Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers (13 page)

It didn’t surprise her when the loud wails of death overcame the group.  Her heart was closed, isolated from the sorrow.  The man approached his two sons but said nothing.  Instead, he placed a shaking hand on their shoulders, his eyes looking toward the horizon and not their faces.  The older boy clenched his teeth, anger flashing across his face.  The younger boy took a deep breath, his chest heaving while he fought back tears. The man walked away and disappeared from the crowd, leaving the noise of the wailing women to tend to the dead.

The girl watched all of this, a distant stranger…a silent observer.  Yet, deep down, she knew that this would change everything.  She knew that with death came rebirth…and she wasn’t certain where she would fit into the changing tide to come.

Someone nudged her shoulder.
 
“
Wake up, S'hara.  Wake up.
”
 
Opening her eyes, Sahara saw a youn
g gypsy girl leaning over her. 
Her long, black hair hung in tangl
es over her shoulders.  A piece of her hair
draped through a large
gold hoop she wore in her ear. 
Her face, smeared with dirt, looked tired and worn
out.  Yet,
Sahara guessed her to be no mor
e than fifteen years. 
“
S'hara,
you must get up.  We are moving.
”
The girl stepped away from the
bed, waiting impatiently for Saha
ra to arise.  Already the other
gypsies were tearing apart camp, ready to travel f
urther down the
road now that the abaiv cere
mony had been performed and the
marriage
consummated
. 

Suppressing
a yawn, Sahara sl
owly sat up.  As she moved, she
fe
lt the tight skin on her side.  It burned
.  Clenching her teeth as she
fought the pain, she pulled the q
uilt around her bare chest.  It hardly surprised her
that
Nicolae
was gone.  Why should he stick
around now, she thought bitterly. 
“
Moving?  Where to?
”

Indifferently, the girl shrugged. 
“
The next campsite.
”

A sigh escaped Sahara's throat.  She had fall
en asleep a few
hours before dawn.  But Sahara
could tell by the little light that seeped
through the canvas that the sun hadn't been given a
full chance to rise.  Tired and
not quite awake, Sahara rubbed
her eyes.  Looking around the tent, she realized so
meone had
already taken the trunk and chair
while she slept.  At least they
had the decency not to wake me, s
he thought. 
“
I have no clothes
to wear.
”
 

“
I brought you some, see?
”

The girl handed Sahara a
black skirt.  Taking it, Sahara
examined it carefully.  The ankle
length,
full-bottomed
skirt was
made from a soft cloth, pro
bably cotton.  Sahara stood up,
slipping the skirt on in front
of the strange gypsy girl.  The
girl did not notice as she laid
a delicate and silky red blouse
on the rumpled quilt.  When Sahar
a turned around and saw it, she
quickly snatched it up. 
“
My
God!  This is so...
”
  Shocked,
Sahara looked at the girl. 
“
So
red!  I can't wear this!  Only
prostitutes wear red!
”
  The gir
l merely shrugged her shoulders
again. Dropping the red blouse
back onto the quilt, the gypsy
girl turned and left the tent. 

Staring at the empty space w
here the girl had stood, Sahara
cursed under her breath.
  Her eyes moved to
the blouse
lying
beside her. 
Curiously, Sahara's fingers
reached out, stroking the sleek
fabric.  She had never touche
d something to luxurious to her
fingers. 
It was soft and sheer, so light to the touch.  It breathed air and would keep her cool.  But the color!  She had never seen any woman wear something of such a vibrant color. 
After a long minute,
Sahara picked the blouse up and
held it against her che
st.  Indecent as it was, Sahara
reluctantly slid it over her head,
knowing the gypsy girl was not
coming back with more
fashion options
.  Besides, she thought, perhaps it would
do
Nicolae
some
good to be embarrassed to see his new wife dressed like a whore.

Standing in the shadow of th
e tent, Sahara looked around at
what had been the gypsies' camp
only the night before.  Most of
the tents were already torn d
own and in the process of being
stored in the wagons.  The me
n were naked from the waist up,
sweat glistening on their brown b
acks.  The women hurried about,
packing their cooking utensils and
folding clean clothing, washed
in a nearby river the previ
ous day.  A couple of the older
teenage boys lounged near the hor
ses.  One tall boy with several
gold earrings in his left ear rea
ched out lazily and scratched a dirty
white mare under the mane.
When the horse reared, the boy
fell backwards.  The other boys laughed as he picked himself up
from the ground.  Wiping
the dirt
off his pants, the boy spat at
his peers. 

“
You dare laugh at me?  A son of the Kuneshti vista?
”

One of the smaller boys laug
hed again. 
“
Locke, you are not
a knifer!  But I would bet yo
u are from the Khulare vista.
”

Again, the boys laughed and turne
d their backs on the outsider. 
Sahara watched anxiously as
Locke reached into his boot and
pulled out a knife.  The anger in
his face warned Sahara to keep
far enough away and not get inv
olved.  Without the smaller boy
knowing, Locke approached him fro
m behind as the group continued
sneering.  Sahara held her bre
ath as Locke swung his arm out,
slashing at the back of the ridiculer's neck.  To the smaller
boy's horror, his long, black ha
ir to fall to the ground.
He raised his hand to his bare
neck.

“
Perhaps, Greggor, you will
watch who you call a Khulare in
the future.
”
  Greggor's friends
started forward but stopped
abruptly when Locke waved his kn
ife in their faces.  He smiled,
one of his front teeth missing.
“
I wouldn't try it.  I am more
apt with a knife than you are with
your hands.  You would be wise
to remember that.
”
  Walking backwa
rds in a crouched position,
Locke continued to swing the kni
fe in front of him protectively
until he was far enough away to tu
rn and run for safety.  Several
of the boys started to foll
ow him, anxious to appear brave
although they were truly cowards.  Greg
gor cursed
out loud
,
watching as Locke outdistanced the boys chasing him. 

Nervously, Sahara's hand drifted
to her neck, fingering the
necklace
Nicolae
had given her a
s she watched the boys suddenly
disperse from their group. 
Emilian
stood in the shadow of one
of
the few remaining tents, a w
itness to the entire scene.  He
looked over to where Sahara stoo
d.  Slowly, he approached her. 
In the daylight,
Emilian
w
as twice as handsome as she had
suspected.  His skin glowed
a golden bronze.  In the gentle
breeze, his wavy black hair brus
hed against his bare neck.  She
wondered why he was not wearin
g any gold like the other gypsy
men.  He wore leather breeches, q
uite unlike the trousers of the
other gypsy men.  The dirty white blouse he wore was damp from
sweat.  Almost as if he read
her mind,
Emilian
glanced down at
Sahara's apparel. 
“
I see they have found you suitable clothing.
”

Ignoring his comment, Sahara asked,
“
When are we leaving?
”

“
I imagine soon.
”
   His v
oice, so deep and husky, sent a
shiver down her spine.  But it was
his eyes that frightened her. 
They were just as dark as her
own,
his
boring
deep
into her
soul
. 
“
You are
ready
to move now, yes
?
”

Unnerved by his steady gaze,
Sahara shrugged her shoulders. 
“
I have nothing to pack but myself.
”

Emilian
looked around at the busy men, packing t
he remaining
tents.  Several people had notice
d
Emilian
's unexpected appearance
in the middle of camp.  Certain
ly by now, his brother knew and
would be on his way to intervene. 
“
And
Nicolae
?  He is where?
”

Her voice was edged with bitterness. 
“
Why would I know?
”

Studying the expressi
on on her face,
Emilian
smiled to
himself. 
“
He is your husband, no?
”

Sahara's mouth dropped. 
“
Yo
u knew?  Why didn't you tell me
last night?
”

“
You didn't know?
”
 
He seemed equally surprised.

Her anger building, Sahara li
fted her chin
. 
“
I'm not gypsy,
Emilian
.  Everyone
here knows tha
t!  What I thought was a simple
ceremony to make me accept
ed by your people was a wedding
ceremony.  How was I to know?
“

“
But you are gypsy, Sahara.
”
H
is words were direct and strong.  
“
You are…
”

“
S'hara!  I have been looking
for you!
”
 
Nicolae
appeared behind
his older brother and walked to
Sahara.  If he had heard their
conversation, he gave no indication
.  Placing his hands on her
shoulders, he turned her away fr
om
Emilian
.  He spoke tenderly to
her, his voice soft and ki
nd as he caressed her shoulders
underneath the silky red blouse
. 
“
You must come with me.  The
time is nearing when we will leave.  I do n
ot want you lost and
left behind
, my bori
.
”
  Gently, he started to lead her away. 

The
brilliant
red blouse had
not humiliated
Nicolae
but his rude
behavior caused a blush from
embarrassment to color Sahara's
cheeks.  Shaking her shoulder free from his touch, Sahara a
ngrily
reprimanded
her husband. 
“
I was
talking with
Emilian
,
Nicolae
.
”
  She
turned around, ready to ask
Emilian
what his remark about her being
gypsy meant.  Where
Emilian
had st
ood, the ground was empty.  She
looked around, but he was gone. 
“
Where...
?
”
  Confused,
she looked
up at
Nicolae
. 
“
I don't understand.
  He was just there!  Why would
he have left?
”