Valentine – a history of social economics by Geoffrey Speechly

   

Photo: Liz Obadina

It was the 14^th of Fevrier 486 AD in the Massif Central of France, a region mountainous and rich in rivers and streams. In its very heart lay two ridges of steep hills, known to the locals as the Tines for their similarity to the tines of the eating forks which had just come into fashion as civilisation or more properly urbanisation crept into the light of day. Between them ran a pure stream, almost a river, serving all the needs of the Society of the Mountains, nearly forty people, men, women and children, both Franks and Celts.

That fateful day their chief had called them together and they stood, silent, awaiting his words. Then “Les Romains sont vaincus!” he cried, and for the benefit of the Celts among them “We’ve sent those Roman buggers off!” A wild exhalation of cheers and screams broke out “some men kissed women, other men hugged men, and the children looked about them in exited curiosity. Suddenly one of them, a tiny lad of only dix – sorry, ten – cried in that piercing tone which parents know so well “ Look – regardez- la-there!”

Round the corner of the valley limped a tall, dark-skinned man, clad in the remnants of a Roman soldier’s uniform. Though exhausted, it was clear that he was a fine muscular fellow and recognising straightway who was the chief, he went to him and knelt before him. “M’sieu, je vous..” With a gesture, the chief stopped him. “From your first words your accent tells me you are not Roman – whence are you from?” Humbly the soldier admitted that he was an African, conscripted from Carthage many years ago. Now all he wanted was to live in peace, marry and raise many fine children, and...he hesitated... “I have something which if you put in your drinking water, will help your families to prosper, a secret which I have kept from my home...” his voice faltered then regained a volume to be heard by all “An AfroDisiac”.

His face fell as he was met by a bewildered silence. The chief beckoned him to approach and to whisper an explanation. “But how..?” he asked. The reply “ Just give the freedom of one, or, two, or more of your maidens, and... “Chief Malthus had been worried by the demographic progress of his tribe. The wild life of the region had deprived them of their best hunters, and two dozen nubile young women were manless and frustrated.  Can you really?  “ he asked and came the reply “Give me your maids and I will see they are laids”. To couper a long histoire short, the brave ex-Roman placed his secret formula in the waters of the stream and on the same day in twelve months the tribe’s population had increased exponentially. Though a technically incorrect version of the phrase which commemorates this happy event is celebrated in the Anglo-saxon countries, to this day, in France the virtues of the   valley in the mountains are remembered at every wedding  as a cry of good fortune for the couple “Val en Tine” . Adieu, mes amis, adieu.

(First Published in a Hightown Writers Anthology A Book of Delights 2016)