The Untamable Rogue (10 page)

L
ife on the
camp had already become such a part of me that my old life moved into the back of my mind more and more. By now most members of the clan treated me as one of their people and Grandmother Aneta taught me more and more about herbs and healing methods. I regarded, very highly, the old lady who possessed a sharp understanding.

“Stretch out your hand, child,” said the old gypsy.

She had opened a bottle in which she had, with my help, put the comfrey roots in brandy. The liquid had become almost black and was emitting an aromatic smell as Grandmother Aneta waved the bottle around.

I did as she said and stretched out my hand. Grandmother Aneta poured some of the liquid into the palm of my hand.

“Tell me what that feels like?”

I looked at the old woman a little puzzled. I had no idea what she was expecting. I knew, however, that the old woman never did or said anything without a reason.

“Rub it in and then tell me what the tincture feels like!”

I rubbed the liquid between my hands as the old woman had told me to do. So that I could concentrate better I had closed my eyes. The aromatic smell and the evaporating alcohol filled my nostrils.

“And?” probed Grandmother Aneta.

“It feels … somehow oily,” I said.

The old woman roared in agreement.

“And? Carry on!”

“Hm, cool – but no, now it’s getting warm.” I opened my eyes again and looked with interest at Grandmother Aneta. She was nodding and closing the bottle carefully.

“Hm. The tincture increases the circulation. That’s why it’s good to use on tired feet. That’s where one of its names comes from – boneset or knitbone, too. Some people also call it slippery-root,” she explained, and she put the bottle back in its place on the shelf.

“You put it on my foot, too, didn’t you?”

The old woman nodded again and was about to reply but then stopped and listened.

“What is it?” I asked, and listened, too. There was nothing to be heard and precisely that was the strange thing. Children could not be heard, nor women chatting, nor men in discussion nor yapping dogs. Everything was absolutely silent. Goose bumps spread over my body.

Grandmother Aneta did not reply, but a quiet smile spread over her face. She had the facial expression of a cat that had caught a mouse in a trap.

“Go out, then you’ll see what it is,” was all that she said.

By now I was used to the old lady knowing and noticing more than anyone else, so I did not carry on wondering, but left the waggon as she had told me to do. Outside I saw that everyone had stopped what they were doing and were all looking in one direction. When my eyes met the destination of the numerous gazes my heart leapt – Ivo – he was returning. So had the month already passed? I had lost any sense of time since being with the Sintis. Spellbound and with trembling knees I watched him as he moved his waggon into position. Since the disastrous day when I had been tended to in his waggon I had not set eyes upon him. I had avoided going near his caravan so that I did not have to meet him – although a part of me, contrary to decency, was still yearning for this wild man.

Suddenly Ivo raised his head and looked directly at me. Time seemed to stand still for several seconds and our looks melted together. My knees became weak and there were fluttering in my belly. Our movements were frozen, and the whole camp, too, seemed to hold its breath. Everything around me faded into the background and was no longer part of the world that only belonged to me and Ivo. I could hear my own heavy breathing and my heart was beating loudly in my chest. His gaze moved like a caress over me and the beginnings of a smile appeared on his face, taking a little of the sharpness from his angular features and causing a painful ache in my lower abdomen. With every single cell in my body I desired this man.

The magic of this moment was destroyed abruptly as a picture-perfect young woman, about whom I only knew that she was called Jelonka, stepped into this intimate world and demanded Ivo’s attention. He turned to look at the young gypsy and I felt as if my heart had been torn out of my body. With tears in my eyes I watched as Jelonka threw herself around Ivo’s neck and kissed him passionately. How could I have been so stupid? For a moment I had had the naïve feeling that he would feel the way I felt. I had had the irrational feeling that he had returned home – to me! But of course it was a fantasy. This man was a lady-killer and I was a stupid, naïve girl. Sobbing, I tore myself away from the sight and hurried back into the waggon.

Grandmother Aneta was lying on her bed as I barged into the waggon. The old woman had her blind eyes closed and the curtain that divided the healing woman’s sleeping area from the rest of the waggon was half open. I lay down on my own bed and closed my colourfully embroidered curtain. Suppressing my sobbing with difficulty, I lay curled up on my side and cried hot tears. I could not explain my pain to myself, could not understand why I longed for him with every fibre in my body. He had nearly dishonoured me without taking into consideration the fact that my future would have been ruined. I should hate him, curse his black soul, but instead of that I wanted him to do unutterable things to me: things that a young woman from a good background should not even think about.

“Valuable things are born of blood and pain.” Grandmother Aneta’s voice was suddenly heard to say.

I sniffed quietly. Whatever did the old woman mean by that? I did not dare ask, so I remained silent.

B
linded by tears
, Jelonka ran through the forest until her sides hurt and she had to stop, gasping for air. Still sobbing, she sat down on a boulder, overgrown with moss and lichen. Gradually her wildly pounding heart calmed down and the stream of tears almost stopped. She breathed in deeply and wiped the salty wetness from her eyes and off her cheeks. The initial pain was replaced by a dull sense of hopelessness. She knew exactly what had just happened: Ivo was in love with this little madam. After this colourless creature had turned away, Ivo had roughly pushed Jelonka away from him.

“What’s this nonsense about!” he had snapped at her and turned away from her angrily, then he had looked down at
her
and the expression on his face had spoken volumes. It was this stranger that he longed for, not Jelonka. He would never take her as his wife – Jelonka was now painfully aware of this. That made her situation complicated – hopeless!

The snapping of branches made her look around. Her face smiled painfully when she saw Sergio coming towards her.

Sergio sat down next to her on the stone and looked at her with concern. Even when they were children he had always been the one who had consoled her when she had hurt herself or if someone had made her angry.

“Is everything OK with you?” he asked sympathetically.

Jelonka sighed and remained silent. She did not know how to explain her sadness in words.

“I saw you run away and I was worried,” Sergio probed again.

Jelonka started to cry again. Sergio took her in his arms to console her and cradled her like a small child.

“There, there. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“It is!” sobbed Jelonka. “It is … it’s hopeless!”

“Has it got something to do with my wretched brother?” Sergio asked.

Jelonka nodded, distressed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Sergio empathetically.

Jelonka breathed in deeply a few times and cleared her throat before she blurted out: “I … I’m pregnant!”

“By Ivo?” asked Sergio, visibly horrified.

“Yes.”

“And … what does he have to say about this?” asked Sergio.

“He doesn’t know,” stated the Jelonka.

“Why aren’t you telling him? If he’s the father then he must carry the responsibility.”

He looked searchingly at Jelonka. 

“Or don’t you want him any longer? – I mean, I could understand that. Ivo is not exactly the sort of man that one can imagine as a faithfully caring father and husband.”

“I thought – I wanted him – but now …” Jelonka’s voice sounded despairing.

“So what’s happened?”

“He won’t love me. He …”

“Ivo doesn’t love anyone. He’s …”

“No!” interrupted Jelonka. “It’s not that. He – I think he loves the fair-haired girl, this …”

“Liz?” blurted Sergio in disbelief.

Jelonka nodded.

“Yes, I mean her,” she said and looked hard at Sergio. “Why are you so horrified by that? Do you love her, too?”

Sergio had become pale. He did not appear to be listening to her any more.

“… what’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Jelonka’s voice finally got through to him.

“It … it’s OK,” Sergio tried to assure her, unconvincingly. 

“So you love her, too!” stated Jelonka dryly. It was unbelievable that all the men that meant something to her had suddenly fallen in love with a stranger: a woman that was unattainable for any Sinti, who came from a completely different world.

“Well, yes, I’ve fallen in love with her – yes. – It looks as if we both have the same problem. I love Liz. You love Ivo. – And those two …”

For a while they were both silent, then Sergio took Jelonka’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently.

“It’s best if we sleep on it for a few nights, then talk again and see what we should do. What do you think about that?” he suggested.

Jelonka was still deeply hurt but she then realised that rational action was needed and in this condition, controlled by her emotions, she was not in a position to act. A plan was needed. A plan that would definitely work!

“Under no circumstances should we talk to the two of them about it now. You’re right, we’ll sleep on it for a few days. With a bit of distance one can see some things more clearly. It has done me a lot of good talking to you. I can’t believe that you and Ivo … that you’re brothers. You are so nice and … oh, I’m saying stupid things!”

“Thank you!”

Jelonka looked at Sergio, clueless. 

“What for?”

“For thinking that I’m nice. I like you, too. Our chat has helped me, too. – Come on! Let’s go back, it’s getting dark.”