Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers (19 page)

She leaned against him, her heart fluttering inside of her chest.  A sigh escaped her lips.  He cherished her. He wanted the world to see it.  Part of her wanted to keep him to herself, to spend the rest of the night curled up in his arms, her body melting against his.  The other part wanted to declare to the world that this was her husband and she was his wife.  She wanted to please Nicolae, to see him stare at her with desire and to dance just for him. 

Leaning back, she stared into his face and smiled softly, “I will dance for you, my husband.  I will dance and I will laugh so that the world can see my love for you.”

The words hung between them.  She hid her own surprise at having said it but, a warmth flooded through her as she realized that, indeed, she did love him. 
He didn’t respond with words.  Instead, he lowered his mouth on hers, kissing her with a fierce passion in response to her declaration.  His kiss was fiery and told her all that she needed to know.  When the kiss ended, he didn’t leave her side but helped her dress, taking a moment to brush back her hair.  Neither one spoke but they could both feel the intensity of the emotion between them.  Indeed, the world would see their love for each other.  It was a passion born from promise but solidify by fate. 




   




It was about six months after she had arrived that they had the dance. It was a celebration of spring, a celebration of life renewed.  The girl listened to the music, her heart pounding inside of her chest and her head feeling light.  She wanted to dance, she realized.  To dance as she had in Europe for the man…the tall man with the dark hair and soulful eyes.  The man that she had noticed on the edge of the fires, especially when she noticed that he was watching her just as closely.  The girl shut her eyes, returning to that night.  It seemed like years ago, many years ago. 

“You will join the fires tonight?” a voice asked from the shadows. 

The girl turned around.  She remained calm, despite being startled, as she faced her “father”.  He stood before her, his hair pulled back and his shirt clean from her own hands.  He handed her a bottle of liquor.  Hesitantly, she took it.  “I will not join the fires,” she replied but she drank from the bottle.  It burned her throat.  Yet, she drank more. 

“You will join the fires tonight,” he repeated, only this time it was a statement, not a question. He reached out for the bottle and, as she handed it to him, she felt his hand brush against hers, just lightly, but enough to cause her heart to flutter and her eyes to jumped to his face.  He stared at her, expressionless but there was a sparkle in his eyes.  She could see it, despite the fading sun. 

And she knew that she would be dancing once again.

The camp was unusually a
live for early afternoon.  Town
people strolled curiously around the outskirts of the t
ents. 
They stared at the gypsies
, half out of envy, half out of
disgust.  The freedom of the gy
psies
to pick up and leave at
any time and go anywhere they de
sired, stirred strange emotions
to the gadjo.  As they wander
ed among the gypsies, the gadjo
stared at the wagons, wonderin
g how many miles and towns they
carried the free spirited gyp
sies through.  Yet, the nomadic
life, although
appealing
in man
y ways, angered the gadjo.  How
dare these gypsies
be so carefree and
alive
when we must be stationary
and work in the fields every d
ay?  How dare they flaunt their
fine horses and colorful clothing
when we face poverty
every year from drought or crop
disease?  How dare they celebrate
each day anew when our only day to celebrate life and worship
our Lord is Sunday?

A couple of young gypsy m
en performed for a small crowd,
juggling torches as the town
people applauded.  A town girl,
probably two years younger than S
ahara, stood beside her father,
watching one of the gypsy men wit
h a gleam in her eye.  The lean
gypsy man named Waller realized he
had his own special audience. 
He moved closer to her, aware of the older man standing protectively next to the gyp
sy's prey.  The crowd gasped as
Waller spun around between cat
ching the torches.  The torches twirled
faster in the air, the flames s
ending thin streams of
black smoke in the air.  Suddenl
y, he threw one high in the air
as he spun, quickly leaping towa
rd the girl, catching the torch
seconds before it would have
hit her in the head.  The girl
jumped back, startled.  After she realized wh
at happened, a soft
blush covered her cheeks as s
he moved closer to her father. 
Sahara smiled to herself, wonderi
ng if the girl would be enticed
enough by Waller's act to retu
rn to the gypsy camp later that
evening. 
She would not be the first young
town girl who found herself in the embrace of a young gypsy boy in the shadows of the wagon with only the glow of the campfires to hint at their indiscretion.

A strong
hand squeezed her shoulder,
interrupting her
thoughts. 
“
Where
have you been, S'hara?
”
His voice was low and his breath was warm on her neck.

Startled, Sahara jumped,
accidentally stepping on
Nicolae
's
foot.  She stumbled to the side an
d would have fallen had not
Nicolae
reached out with his arm, catchi
ng her by the waist.  He pulled
her close.  Steadying herself,
Sahara pushed against his bare
chest, too aware of his strong muscles under his shirt.  She could smell him, the musky, sensual scent of a man who worked hard by day and loved harder by night. 
Nicolae
clutched her thin wai
st tighter, causing her to gasp
against his crushing str
ength.  His dark
eyes
questioned her as they searched
her face. 
“
You left early this
morning, yes?  To where did you have to go in such a hurry?
”

The jugglers caught
their torches, realizing their
audience's attention was elsewher
e.  In the past several weeks, t
he gypsies had
grown
increasingly curious about  the relationship between their future Rom Baro and his gadjo-gypsy wife.  It was an unusual relationship, one where the man hardly left the woman’s side. They whispered about the gadjo-gypsy’s hold over Nicolae.  Had she bewitched him?  The marriage between a man and woman was not based on love but on survival.  This marriage was different.  They wondered if that was such a good thing and whispered about how it would impact the kumpania.

“I left to bathe, Nicolae.”

He continued to hold her.  “You should have
awakened
me. I should have been there to protect you, yes?”

She laughed.  “From what?”

He did not respond but merely brushed her hair back from her face.  “You must be careful, my bori.  You never know what danger lurks in the shadows for such a beautiful woman.”

“The sun was out and there were no shadows, I assure you,” she teased.

The town people gathe
red their children around them,
watching the young couple.
The gypsies were a
curiosity
to
them.  Whenev
er a band came into their town,
children played hooky from sc
hool to sneak into the camp and
watched the gypsy children
.  Younger women flocked to the
gypsies, curious to have their fortunes told.  M
en came at night
to drink the gypsy whiskey and w
atch the dancing, hoping to bed
one of the less reputable
gypsy girls.  But watching the
bewitching black haired gypsy girl
in the arms of the handsome
gypsy
man, their envy of the gypsy carefree life
increased as they w
itnessed a passion that was
vibrant and alive
in a way that most had never experienced.

He waited to continue until
Sahara looked at him.  When she di
d, he reached out to stroke her
cheek.  The tenderness of his touc
h sent an unexpected chill down
her spine.  Gently, he pulled
her closer, his one arm wrapped
around her neck. 
“
You were lucky this time, yes?  Perhaps some day there will be shadows that you do not see.
”
 

“I have enough eyes watching me,” she said lightly. “I doubt any shadows could sneak upon me.”

Much later that evening, Saha
ra sat
obediently
by
Nicolae
's side
as they watched the dancing.  Dozens of lanterns lit up the camp
with a brassy
glow.  Standing a
round the edge of the camp, the
town people watched the dancing.  Sahara wonder
ed where all the
gadjo had come from.  The night
before, only a handful had
visited
compared to the turnout
tonight, she thought.  She knew
Nicolae
must be happy.  More people me
ant more money.  The town women
would spend their money on fortunes
while t
he men
spent it
on whiskey and
gambling.  The younger women
might buy a love potion and the
younger men might try to buy a g
irl for the night.  To Sahara's surprise, when she
glanced at
Nicolae
, there was a stern, almost
angry look on his face.  He was staring past the fires
and
dancing girls.  She touched his ar
m, her fingers gently caressing
his muscles. 
“
You shouldn't
look so deep in thought.  It'll
scare the gadjo away.
”
 

Nicolae
pushed her hand off
his arm, jumping to his feet. 
“
There is something wrong.
   I must go see.  You stay here, S’hara.  I sense danger.”
Without waiting
for her,
Nicolae
disappeared
into the
crowds.

Without a moment’s hesitation,
Sahara was quick to follow
him.  The further he raced into
the crowd, the harder it was for
Sahara to follow.  The mass of
people thickened, everyone fac
ing where
Nicolae
had disappeared. 
Something was happening on th
e other side of the crowd.  She
could hear angry words being e
xchanged over the town people's
murmuring.  Struggling, Saha
ra managed to shove some people
aside, cursing at them as she f
ought to keep up with
Nicolae
.  One
man knocked her down, his elbow smashing
into her face. 
“
Damn
gypsy!
”
  Her eyes throbbed as sh
e gently touched it. 

Getting
back on her feet, Saha
ra glared at her attacker.  His
back was turned to her as he strained to
see over the other
people's heads. She broke through the mob, st
umbling into the open.  Someone
grabbed her by the neck, pu
lling her back.  She struggled,
twisting her head around and rec
ognized her captor as
Emilian
.
  His grip was tight and he blocked the people from Sahara by putting his own large body between her and the crowd. 
“
Be still,
”
he hissed in her
ear as she continued trying to b
reak free. 
“
You'll get someone
killed.
”

The fight left Sahara as s
he heard the seriousness behind
his words.  Her eyes shifted away
from Emilian
to the middle of the
circle. 
She wondered when he had arrived.  His presence had been absent for so long.  But she had not dared to ask anyone.  No one seemed to notice Emilian or to recognize him when he did sit in the shadows of the campfires.  Instead, he was a ghost of a man that floated in and out of the kumpania, always on the periphery but, apparently, always nearby. 

Nicolae
stood in front of a
younger gypsy man, arguing with
an older town man. 
There was a young man, a gypsy, standing by Nicolae’s side.  Hiding behind Nicolae, she thought to herself.  She didn’t understand why Nicolae was standing between the two men.  She could barely make out the gypsy youth’s face. 
Squinting in
the shadows from the
campfires
and lanterns, Sahara recogniz
e
d
the man
Nicolae
was protecting as
Waller, the dancer from early t
hat afternoon.  Looking back at
the town man, she noticed the trembling girl.  Wasn't she the girl Waller had performed for
earlier?  The girl clung to the
older man, most certainly her fat
her.  Her dress was torn at the
waist and bodice.  There was a
large gash on her cheek by her
ear, dirt sticking to the blood
.  Sahara looked back at Locke,
her eyes wide and frightened. 
“
What did Waller do, Emilian
?
”

“
Ssh.
”
 
Emilian
ignored Sahara'
s question of the obvious
.

The crowd gasped as
the town man tried to grab Waller. 
“
Let me at hi
m!  If you don't, I'll get
the sheriff!
”

Nicolae
's face grew red as he e
xploded.  Pushing the man away, he shoved
Waller back. 
“
He is gypsy!  He stays with us!
”

“
Look what he did!
”
  The ol
der man grabbed for his weeping
daughter as he shook his finger at
Nicolae
, tears falling from his
own eyes. 
“
Look what he did and
call him gypsy!  He's animal! 
Animal!
”
  The man put his arms
around his daughter.