You're a farmer in the fertile lands of the Po valley. Your children have died from some sort of plague, and you're expected to move on as you're only a farmer. The aristocrats are the only ones that matter. You love your wife oh so dearly, and you would break if anything happened to her. You've survived the plague, surely things could only get better? As you think about those silly thoughts, a harsh cry splits the air. A foreign tongue pervades the valley, and you hurry into your master's house. Many are killed, among them your farm master, who was caught returning to his home. Seeing that the raid was over, you and your comely wife step out of the abode. A straggler catches your sweetheart in the bosom as he heads to join his comrades. Her toga is stained an evil crimson as you sob at her wilting body. Why did this happen to you? Why did she have to die? How could it get any worse? Several years later, you work under a new master. He has new clothes, new hair, and a new language. All you can think of is how his people murdered your sweet beloved. Why would God let this happen? But, what do you know, you're just a farmer.

if my wife was so ugly that she didnt even get carried away as a warbride i would not care if she died

@neodanubian honesty appreciated, but I'm strongly against that.

i would simply replace her with a spare wife

that's the spirit