Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers (42 page)

After they had made love again, they fell asleep, oblivious
to the
music and dancing outside.
Their sleep was peaceful,
their legs entwined and their arm
s tossed lazily over each other
with the blankets tossed aside.  T
hey shared their dreams of each
other and their child.  They dr
eamed of the many more children
they wanted and how their life woul
d be
years down the road.

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The Rom Baro stood with Nicolae and the girl, Miquela.  He could see the bruises and see the damage that had been done.  The girl continued to weep, afraid for her own future.  No man wanted a woman who was dirty and spoiled.  Emilian had made certain of that by forcing himself onto her.  Would she be mahrimed or sent away?  The tears streamed down her face, her eyes downcast and staring only at the ground beneath her feet. 

Nicolae stood by her side, his own heart broken.  He could not take this woman but he did not wish to desert her, either.  “I will stand by her, father,” he finally said.  “I cannot see her sent away for a crime in which she is the victim.”
Nicolae spoke the words but he was un
certain what that
actually
meant.  Such a thing had never happened before in the kumpan
ia
.  There was no precedence.

“It will have to be known,” the Rom Baro
said slowly to the couple before him. 
There was a pain in his eyes. 
“Emilian is undeserving of a w
ife.  I have suspected that since…” His words trailed off and he thought back to Amaya.  It was painful to think of her and the loss of the child.  He shook his head and turned back to Nicolae.  “But y
ou
,” he said slowly.  “You
will have to wait to
see.
”
T
he Rom Baro
lowered his voice until he was speaking in just a
whisper.  “If he has made her with child, you cannot have questions about who is the father.
  There can be no question about the leader of the kumpan
ia
.
”

Nicolae frowned.  “I don’t understand.”

The Rom Baro laid his hand on Nicolae’s shoulder but he hung his head low from his shoulder.  “You will be the future Rom Baro, Nicol
ae.  You will lead the kumpania
when I have passed.”

“Father?”

“Emilian has crossed a line that cannot be undone.  He is dead to me, Nicolae.  And you are my true and only son.” The Rom Baro looked at the girl who still stood weeping, her nightshift torn and small specks of blood covering the front.  In the quiet, she finally raised her eyes.  The Rom Baro reached a hand out to gently brush a tear from her cheek.  “Emilian will be mahrime forever for what he has done to your bride.”

She was the first to hear the noise.  It was too dark for such a commotion.  Sahara sat up in the bed, clutching the blankets around her bare body.  She looked down at
Nicolae
.  In the darkness, she could barely make out his silhouette.  He was sleeping.  After such a long ride, how could he not sleep?  She thought better about disturbing him and quickly rose to her feet, searching for her clothing in the darkness.  She could hear the soft breathing of Lea from her blankets.  Reassured that her loved ones were sleeping soundly, Sahara pulled back the tent canvas and went outside.

It was dark and she stepped away from the tent.  They had been camped on the outskirts of the campsite.  She walked through the darkness toward the center of the camp.  When she got there, w
hat she saw amazed her.  Half of the tents were gone and several of the wagons were missing.  The moon lit up the
campsite and she could see that many of the people had prepared to leave during the night and under the guise of the slava.  But the noise that she heard now disturbed her.  It was the wheels of the wagons pulling away under cover of darkness. It was the sound of dissent, of unhappy people turning their backs on the Rom Baro and leaving in the middle of the night.  The kumpania was no longer one but split amongst each other.

“You will come with us, S’hara,” a voice said from behind.

She spun around, startled by Emilian’s presence.  He had snuck upon her, as if waiting for her to emerge.  “Emilian!” she said.
The pieces came together and she realized what had happened.  Nicolae’s return had come one day too late and the people were leaving with Emilian. 
“You cannot do this!”

He laughed.  “I can because the people will it, S’hara.  And you are my rightful wife. You will come with us and, together, we will lead the people.”

“I will follow no one but my husband,” she replied, her heart beating inside of her chest but her face stoic and strong. 

He walked toward her.  “I am your true husband.” His voice was low and his
temperament
calm.  Too calm.  It unnerved her and she backed away.  “It was your mother who stole you away, S’hara. She stole my right to wed.  Now, I will reclaim it.”

“I am already married, Emilian.  You cannot marry your brother’s wife.”

“Ah, but you are wrong, S’hara.”  For every step that she took backward, he took one forward.  The distance between them was closing.  “You see, there is a gypsy custom that a man may wed his dead brother’s wife.”

“Emilian!” she gasped. 

“And you will soon be a widow, S’hara.”  As he spoke, she saw the orange glow from behind him, the sparks of a fire on the far side of the tent that she shared with Nicolae.  It burned brighter as she watched and she knew that, within seconds, it would be engulfed in flames and Nicolae would be dead before he even awoke.

“No!” she screamed. 
She started to run toward the tent but Emilian grabbed her before she could pass.  “Lea!” she cried out.  “Nicolae!”

“They will be gone before you can save them, S’hara.”  He held her tight, despite her struggle. 

She could hear people behind her.  Those who had not packed to leave under cover of darkness had been awoken by her scream.  They came from their tents and wagons, rubbing sleep from their eyes in disbelief.  They saw the flames engulfing the Rom Baro’s tent.  The dry canvas crackled beneath the flames.  It was too late to save anyone inside, although a few men tried to run toward the blazing inferno.  It burned bright and it burned loud, roaring in the night as it destroyed everything in its grasp. 

“Nicolae!” she screamed again, her knees giving out with the weight of the burden. 
She turned to the rest of the people who were slowly gathering around her.  “Save him!  You must save him!  Save my baby!”  But no one moved forward.  They watched her.  They watched the flames.  Their eyes were wide with disbelief and fear.  When Sahara knew that all was lost and no one would try to save Nicolae or Lea, s
he collapsed, the life seeping from her body as she watched her life burn away.  It was impossible, she thought.  And she wept, the tears flowing from her eyes and blinding her vision. 

The people crowded around, staring at the burning tent before turning their gaze to Emilian.  He tried his best to force Sahara to stand but she was sobbing at his feet, her legs refusing to support her weight.
Finally, he let her lie on the grass and he turned to face the people.
“The Rom Baro is gone!” he shouted.  “As he abandoned you in life, he is abandoning you by death!”
The crowd grew and remained silent.
They stared at him, their faces blank with disbelief.
“I am your Rom Baro now!” Emilian shouted.  “You will join the rest of us or stay here to die with no food, no supplies, and no leader.”

Sahara was in shock.  Nothing made sense.  Just an hour ago, she had been in Nicolae’s arms.  Just an hour ago, their future was laid out.  Now, she couldn’t comprehend the world around her.  The sight of the fire, the sound of the blaze, the smell of the smoke. It wasn’t real.  She tried to shake her head, to wake from the nightmare.  Wake up, she told herself.  Wake up and get the baby, she screamed inside of her head.  But reality loomed around her and she knew that she was not asleep.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, trying to guide her back to her feet.  “S’hara, you must come now.  You will feel better in the morning,” he said softly.

Sahara repeated the words in her head.  Better in the morning? And she knew.  She knew that everything Nicolae had told her was true.  He was dangerous.  He was uncaring and unkind.  His soul was a dead as he had been to the people.  But somehow, he had re-emerged, a rebirth of sorts, to take over the minds of a few when Nicolae had been looking the other way.  He had, indeed, risen from the dead and was now attempting to lead the people away. 

“No,” she whispered. 

“S’hara?”

She raised her eyes to look at him.  “I said no.  I will die here with Nicolae and Lea. I will never go with you.”

She felt him jerk her to her feet, his hand clasped tightly around her arm.  She struggled to pull away but he was stronger than her.  He began to drag her toward the waiting caravan.  As best as she could, she mustered the strength to fight back.  She would not go with this man, she vowed to herself.  She would stay with her husband and baby.  She would will herself to die here for she had nothing left to live. 

“Emilian!” a voice called out from behind them. 
“Let go of my wife!”

Nicolae stood behind them.  He was dirty and full of soot from smoke.  His white shirt was soiled.  His eyes never left Emilian’s face, not once looking at Sahara.  She cried out loud and lunged forward, trying to go to him.  Emilian jerked her back toward him, never loosening his hold.  Nicolae did not react.  Instead, he continued to ignore her.  He was focused on one thing: ending the war between he and his brother at last. 

“It is impossible!” Emilian hissed.

“Y
es,
if I had been in the
tent when you started the fire, it would have been impossible to survive!
” Nicolae replied
, his voice calm and even
.  He took a step forward.  “But I was awoken by S’hara leaving and heard you behind the tent.  You always were bad at hiding your tracks from your crimes, Emilian.”  He reached behind his back, his hand hidden from sight.  “Now, I tell you for the last time…let go of my wife.”
  He stretched out his free hand, his eyes still on Emilian as he said, “S’hara, come to me now.”

She tried to move away, tears clouding her vision.  Everything felt surreal and she sobbed.  “Lea?”

“S’hara, Duda has Lea.  She needs you to tend to our baby,” he said without emotion. But Emilian pulled Sahara closer to him, using her as a shield.  “Emilian, one of us will not leave this fight alive.  There is no reason to harm Sahara, yes?”

Emilian hesitated.  The battle had been coming for years, true.  But if he released Sahara, he knew that he no longer had the upper hand.  Indeed, by Nicolae surviving, he had lost a key point in the battle.  The wagons that awaited him, eager to retreat toward the north, had already backtracked.  Many of those families were now gathering, watching the results of the decade-long battle between brothe
rs. Those who had chosen to align themselves with Nicolae
were already crowded around, knowing better than to jump to their leader’s defense but terrified of what might happen should he lose.

“She will live, Nicolae,” Emilian finally said.  “But she will live as my wife, not yours.”

“You gave her to me, years ago!” Nicolae took a step forward, cautious and slow.   “You were so eager to wed that you didn’t want to wait for an infant to grow into your bride.”

“You lie!”

“You chased them away, both Amaya and S’hara.”  Nicolae continued his advance.  “It was you, Emilian.  You broke our father’s heart and then, with S’hara gone, no one else would marry you because she was still alive. So you had to take my own bride on our wedding night.”

Sahara’s eyes widened, her heart racing in her chest.  She tried to surge forward but Emilian’s grip with too tight.  “Let me go, Emilian,” she sobbed.  “Please…”

“You took my bride, you soiled her with your seed, and she died,” Nicolae continued.  “And then you were mahrimed.”

“It
was not my child!”

“You raped her on her wedding night. She died as a result.  You forfeited your rights
to a wife and to being Rom Baro
, Emilian,” Nicolae said.  “You cannot regain what you have lost.”

“It’s a lie,” he hissed, his eyes large and wild.  “It was your lie that caused my mahrime!” But the trepidation in his voice gave away the truth. 

“S’hara,” Nicolae commanded
.  “You must go to our daughter now.”

A cry escaped her throat.  Emilian refused to release his hold on her.  She tried to turn around, seeking his face for mercy.  “Please Emilian, let me go to my daughter,” she cried.  “She needs me.”

Emilian hesitated.  “If I let you go, S’hara, you’ll never come back,” he whispered.

“I will come back,” she r
eplied, her voice just as soft and
tears streaming down her face.  “Just let me go to my daughter. Without her, I will die,” she said.  She saw a flicker of
compassion on his face and she seized the moment.  She reached out and touched his face, diverting his eyes from Nicolae to her own face. 
“Without her, you cannot have me
.
I will kiss you as my promise.”  She shut her eyes and raised her face toward him. 

For a moment, she held her breath but then, as she had hoped, he lowered his lips onto hers, the embrace of a lifetime, one that he had waited for and the one that she had dreaded.  But in that moment, that solitary moment,
he let his guard down and, as she had hoped,
Sahara heard Nicolae move.  It was his moment
, perhaps the only one that he would get to have the upper hand.
Nicolae lunged forward, shoving Sahara out of the way and the battle began.  Sahara found herself in the dirt, her back to the two men. 
A pain shot through her ankle and she cried out as she tried to roll over, tried to see what was happening behind her.  But, before she could sit up or even try to stand, she felt hands on her arms and someone was dragging her away.  “No!” she screamed, struggling until she realized that they were dragging her to safety. 

The men were fighting.  She could hear that much.  But, in the darkness, she could barely make out what was happening.  The crowd of gypsies expanded, allowing the men to finish their business.  Years of pent up resentment and anger
were unleashed as
the men fought. 
Sahara cried softly, thankful for the arms around her shoulders.  She clung to Duda who held her, letting the tears fall freely from her eyes.  Over Duda’s shoulder, she could see that Finny held Lea who, miraculously, slept in the woman’s arms, unaware of the commotion around her.  The relief of seeing her child alive and unharmed brought a new wave of sobs.  It was surreal and she was having difficulty
comprehending
everything that was happening around her. 

The sky was beginning to lighten as night turned to early morning dusk, the sky painted the softest of blues, a sharp contrast with the black hours of darkness.  Nicolae continued to struggle with Emilian but he lost his footing and fell to the ground. 
The crowd gasped
and Sahara cried out, her eyes wild as she beseeched the people, “Help him!  Please!”  But no one made a move toward the opening.  The gypsies knew that the fight had to be between the two men.  Intervention was not an option. 

Nicolae struggled to regain his footing. 
Immediately, Emilian was on top of him, reaching for a nearby rock.  He lifted it above his head, ready to drop it and end the decade old battle.  But his movement was too slow and Nicolae rolled to the side, escaping the blow and a sure death.  He reached out his hand, grasping at the ground as if seeking something.  He struggled, dodging the blows from Emilian while
looking for
something, anything to help him win the battle. Sahara strained to see what he sought but, between the darkness and her tears, she could not.