Norm
MalThe True History of Valentine’s Day.
Wolfy in one of his cross-dressing moments.
There’s no doubt about the ancient Romans. Back when Rome was populated by shepherds and sheep, the blokes running the country decided to get one of the gods to look after the shepherds and sheep at night. So who did they choose? Lupercus. The wolf god. It’d be like getting a convicted rapist to look after a convent of virgins. But that’s the ancient Romans for you.
It was only a matter of time before something happened. Early on the morning of February 14, 270AD, Lupercus, or Wolfy as he was known locally, decided to have a bit of a snack. Now gods have different appetites to humans, so a bit of a pre-breakfast snack for Wolfy meant a whole mob of sheep. And even gods make a fair bit of noise biting sheep’s heads off and munching on flesh and bone, so naturally the shepherdess, Valentine, woke up. Needless to say, she wasn’t very impressed. It meant she’d lose her job. And it’s not like there was any dole or government handouts. So that meant she’d be broke, and wouldn’t be able to afford a dowry. No-one would marry her and she’d end up a bitter old spinster. And it’s not like blogging was invented to give her an outlet for her angst.
She gave Wolfy a fair old smack in the snout, and told him in no uncertain terms what his actions had meant to her future or non-future. Now Wolfy had been watching over the sheep and shepherds and shepherdesses for quite a while, and considered Valentine was a bit of a sort. And since he was a god, albeit a wolf god, he wasn’t restricted to sheep. He’d even thought about laying with her in her sleep before the hunger pangs kicked in, and blaming it on a neighbourhood wolf. But that would mean waking her up to check on her menstrual cycle. He was a Roman wolf god, not a Greek one.
The death of Valentine's Boss.
So Wolfy came up with a plan. It meant that Valentine would have to go out with Wolfy for a year and pretend to be his wife, but it was better than being unemployed. “Go and tell your boss Lupercus has spoken,” Wolfy said. “And that he’s decided that once a year on 14 February each year, he’s going to marry a shepherdess, and have a nuptial feast of lamb to celebrate the occasion.”
So Valentine went and told her boss. He wasn’t very happy about losing all his sheep and his shepherdess so he went to complain to the authorities. They fed him to the lions, and sold his property at auction to a farmer with lots of sheep.
Then they went to Valentine. They took presents for both her and Wolfy – they just stole a few flowers along the way, and chucked them in a basket. One of them scribbled a poem and gave that to her as well. It wasn’t much but it did rhyme. ‘Valentine. Be mine all mine. I love you. More than I ever loved a ewe.’ Wolfy threw the flowers and poem away after they left. “Rubbish,” he said. “It reminds me of the crap they’re going to write in a couple of thousand years time.”
While they were there, they asked Valentine if Wolfy had any further instructions. Which he did. Wolfy told his new bride to tell the authorities that each year on the 14th of February, all the shepherdesses in the district had to assemble in the city square at midnight and romp around naked. In his wolf-god wisdom, he’d pick the one he thought most suitable for someone with such refinement and taste as himself.
Of course, huge crowds of single men (and a few married ones who managed to sneak out while their wives were asleep) graced the occasion the following year. After Wolfy had picked the shepherdess he wanted for the following year, they got to try their luck with the leftovers. By this time it was almost dawn. And they say foxes are cunning. Things got a bit out of hand, and a few blokes were dismembered but apart from that a fun night was had by all.
Things get a bit out of hand at the first Valentine's Day festival.
Like most festivals, this one had to have a name. There were quite a few suggestions. Deflowering Day was popular but eventually rejected. Wolfy Day got a couple of mentions, but eventually they settled on Valentine’s Day. And bugger me, it’s lasted all these years.
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Mal
Normally I would consider writing an article on Valentine's Day a waste of commercial time, but that's the beauty of writing for Orble. There's no money in it, so it doesn't qualify as a commercial venture. Just an utter and complete waste of time itself.
U-Turn & Re-Turn.
Mal.