Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers (30 page)

Nicolae
met her glare with h
is own.  Once again, Sahara had
humiliated him in front of the ot
her gypsies.  Already there was
talk about whether a man that b
owed to a woman was fit to lead
the kumpania.  His father had bee
n concerned, chastising him for
his weakness when Sahara had burst into the wagon. 
She was making this difficult, too difficult, and creating too many problems for him. 
“
It is not a man's place to tell a woman!
”

“
That's what your brother s
aid fifteen minutes ago when he
told me!
”
 

The mention of
Emilian
anger
ed
Nicolae
.  Always,
Nicolae
thought bitterly, he is try
ing to take away what is mine! 
But
Nicolae
redeemed some satisfac
tion knowing
Emilian
was aware of
Sahara's condition.  Never coul
d, or would,
Emilian
try to steal
her away again.  No man would want a
woman with
child.  No man
could see anything desirable i
n a pregnant woman.  But as
Nicolae
faced his fiery wife, he felt h
is own groin start to burn.  It
frustrated him that he must wait
two months after the child was
born before he could bed her again. 
“
I did not tell you because
it is the way, S'hara!
”
  

Snapping her head forwa
rd, Sahara gushed,
“
That's your father
speaking!  You aren't that cruel,
Nicolae
!
”

Nicolae
's expression remained
cold and heartless. 
“
Perhaps I am,
S'hara.
”

“And to think that
I had fa
ll
en
in-love with you,
”
she snapped.  “Silly fool that I am!” She shoved past him and started
for the tent opening
. 

“You will not leave, S’hara!” he said, his voice low and deep as he grabbed her arm.

“You cannot stop me, Nicolae!”
She yanked her arm free. 
“Besides,” she said, the sarcasm thick in her words.  “Isn’t it mahrime to touch a pregnant woman?” 

She left the tent but Nicolae was close on her heels.  Once outside, Sahara began walking toward away from the camp. 
For a long moment,
Nicolae
didn'
t know what to do.  As usual, a
crowd had gathered, trying to politely keep their dista
nce while
watching the unfolding
scene. 
If he went after her, Nicolae knew that they would believe
that he was to
o weak to lead them.
But if he let her go, she would be lost forever.  He had no doubt that she would disappear, just like her mother had done so long ago. 
Wrestling
within
himself,
Nicolae
finally sighed, igno
ring the gossiping stares as he
followed her, reaching out to touch her arm.  When she turned around, he merely gave a simple node of his head.  “Yes, S’hara, it is mahrime to touch a pregnant gypsy women but it will not be mahrime to touch you.” 
To his
personal pleasure, she
let him take her into his arms.  She clung to him, a sob escaping her throat and tears spilling from her eyes.  The stress and confusion from the past few weeks dissipated for her but, unbeknownst to her, shifted to him.  He held her tightly,
hati
ng himself for weakening to her
every
time.  Just once, he had vo
wed over and over again, I will
stand up against my love for her.
Once again he had failed.  And
he knew it would not be the last time.   


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
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Emilian had heard that his father was to wed Amaya from the other boys.  It was whispered among the people who saw the Rom Baro take her in his arms and kiss her.  It was unprecedented to have such public displays of emotion.  But he was their leader and they were glad to know that he was happy again.  It had been a long year since his wife had died.  But Emilian did not greet the news with so much joy.  It meant that he would have no choice but to marry the baby, Sahara.  She was walking now but still an infant in his eyes.  He could not look at her and see anything other than a baby.  There was no wife there and he did not want to wait.

“I don’t understand Father, “ he complained to his brother.  “He will wed that woman and I her child.  If the two kumpan
ias
will be joined through their marriage, why should I still marry that baby?”

Nicolae shrugged his shoulders.  “That is what was promised.”

Emilian threw a rock as far as he could.  “I don’t want to wait another ten or so years.  I’ll be an old man by then.”

Nicolae laughed.  “Being in your twenties is not that old!”

Emilian turned around and shoved his brother.  Nicolae fell onto the ground.  “Then you marry the baby,” he snapped.  “You wait until you are twenty to marry and be a real man!” He stormed away, his anger and rage blinding his vision until all he saw was black.  His future, he realized, was the same color.  Black.

Sahara stood on the gra
ssy hill, overlooking the giant
fortress.  Her loose hair blew in
her face as she faced the sharp
stinging September wind.  The
grey, fall sky darkened by the
minute, threatening a nasty stor
m.  The darkness created a
foreboding shadow over the fortr
ess.  Shivering, Sahara wrapped
her shawl tighter around herself
and continued to stare uneasily
at the magnificent structure.  Ba
rely could she see over the top
of the fortress' walls.  Severa
l men paced slowly, their heads
just visible.  They carried larg
e rifles
over their shoulders as they walked
. 
Several cannons poke out
of holes in the wall just above
the entrance.  The
fortress
' massiv
e wooden gates frightened her. 
Each perpendicular log reminded h
er that the fortress locked out
danger.  Lock out danger, she th
ought, on my side.  She started
to turn
away.  The wind ripped through her, this time chilling
her to the bone.

The gypsy encampment was q
uieter than usual.  The men had
travelled down to the fort, gambl
ing, trading horses, or selling
their rakiya to the bored soldier
s.  The gypsies had been camped
just above the fort for little u
nder a week.  As had been their
luck recently, heavy fall rain ha
d held them up longer than they
had expected and desired.  The soldiers had welcomed the gypsies as a break in the monotony of thei
r weary lives.  The gypsies had
welcomed the soldiers as a break i
n their bad luck.  For the past
two months, most of the towns had
run the gypsies away, refusing
to attend the nightly slavas o
r trade horses.  Miserably, the
gypsies had travelled during the n
ights, hoping to stumble upon a
town that would
welcome them wit
h eager arms and open pockets. 
Fort Niobrara had answered their prayers.

Sahara pulled her black shawl ov
er her shoulders again as
she neared the camp.  The fires we
re low.  It didn't surprise her
anymore to notice the older wo
men hibernating in their wagons
instead of gossiping around th
e fires.  Only on the nicest of
days did they venture to the river to wa
sh clothing.  It was
getting too cold.  They were
eager to camp for the winter in
north Texas.  But it would take t
hem at least another two months
to get there.  Two months t
hat frightened the gypsies.  On
occasion, Sahara had overheard the gypsies whisper
ing among
themselves that the
Rom Baro
was
never going to get them to the
camp.  The gypsies claimed their
concern was for the children. 
But Sahara knew the older gypsies
were restless and scared of the
cold winter that
lay
ahead.  Already they were gett
ing a taste
of it.

 
“
S'hara!
”
  Sahara stopped wal
king and turned around, smiling
her greeting at
Bossa.
  The
tired woman pulled at her grey
shawl as she hurried towar
d Sahara.  The smile faded from
Sahara's face as
Bossa
pulled at her arm
desperately
.
 
“
You must
come at once!
”
  The urgency of Bossa
's
voice frightened her.  Quickly,
Sahara followed the woman. 
“
What is it?
”

“
The little one!
”

All the gypsy children were
“
little ones
”
.  But Sahara knew
at once the child
Bossa
referred
to.  A small bo
y named Lee had
recently come down with a cold a
s had many of the gypsies.  His
mother, a fine woman named Rubba
that Sahara was quite fond of,
had sent him to bed, bringing him
hot broth and stew to nurse him
back to health.  But to everyone's horror, Lee
's health had
deteriorated.  Sahara hurried a
fter Montesa, curious about the reasons she, a semi-
mahrimed pr
egnant woman, had been called.

“
What is wrong with the shav?
”
Her black skirt snapped in the
wind.  It's getting colder, she thought.  That's what's wrong.

Bossa
glanced over her
shoulder at Sahara.  Sahara's
beauty and courage warmed
Bossa
's insides.  Where there once
may have been envy, there was o
nly admiration now. 
“
His fever has risen.  He does not
resp
ond.  Rubba fears E Martya will
appear soon.
”

“
E Martya!
”
  Shocked, Sahar
a repeated the name.  The angel
of death.  Images conjured in Sa
hara's mind.  In the six months
she had been
Nicolae
's wife, she had
never
“
seen
”
E Martya.  No one had died. 
“
Lee will
recover!
”
  R
esting her hand on her enlarged
stomach, Sahara said a quick prayer before entering the tent. 

The older women sat around a p
ale child dripping with sweat. 
Each woman wore black, their eyes
squeezed tight as their mouths
moved silently in a Romani prayer.  Sahara frowned, wondering why
they were acknowledging
the chi
ld as deceased.  From where she
stood, she could see Lee's chest
rise and fall slowly.  Perhaps
he was alive, but just barely.  T
here were several lanterns lit,
hanging from the post and situate
d on a trunk and table.  Sahara
squinted in the dim light, n
oticing the child was laying on
several blankets and pillows.  His
body shook with sickness.  The
mother, crouched protectively by h
is side, slowly raised her eyes
to Sahara.  The dark pools that ga
zed at the pregnant gadjo-gypsy
were large and sorrowful. 
“
You will pray for him, yes?
”

Sahara frowned.  Prayers woul
d not help this child anymore. 
He was going to die. 
“
No.
”
  The other women gasped, their
prayers broken as they looked up.
 
“Prayers are not always enough,”
Sahara quickly finished. 
“
We
will save him.
”
  She shoved her way t
hrough the crowd of women,
kneeling beside the child.  She
reached beneath the blanket for
his hand.  It was ice cold.  Almost corpse-
like.  Tucking his
hand back under the blanket, Sahar
a looked up at
Bossa
. 
“
Go to
my tent.  Take another with you.  The
mattress.  Bring that to
the
Rom Baro
's wagon.  Lay it inside. 
I want him off the cold, hard ground. 
Hurry!
”

Rubba clutched her hands to
gether to pray silently again. 
Sahara wanted to tell her to gathe
r more blankets but one look at
the distraught mother and she knew Rubba was gone.  Inst
ead,
Sahara looked at Bossa. 
“
Get mo
re blankets.  Bring them to the
Rom Baro
's wagon.  It's too drafty in here for this child.
”
  Her
last statement was more t
o herself than to anyone else. 
Concerned, Sahara touched the b
oy's head.  Certainly his fever
was too high.  She had to lower it somehow. 
“
You!
”
  She pointed
to
a younger woman, perhaps
twenty, named Ingra.  The woman
jumped, startled that Sahara had
acknowledged her. 
“
Stir up the
fires.  I want a large pot of broth made.
”

Ingra stuttered. 
“
But the storm...
”

The growing anger in he
r voice startled Ingra.  Sahara
glanced at the unconscious child.
In her mind, she pretended Lee
was her own unborn child.  If he
was, she thought, no one would
fear a storm.  Instead they would fear my wraith at their
slowness.  Rising to her feet, Sah
ara started toward Ingra. 
“
You
do as I tell you, romni!
”
  Quickly
, the frightened girl raced out
of the tent, frantically cryin
g out in Romani that Sahara was
insane.  

Bossa
and Slena reappeared, breathlessly infor
ming Sahara
they had moved the mattress into t
he
Rom Baro
's wagon.  They eyed
the limp Rubba, hopelessly pr
aying. 
“
Listen to me.
”
  Sahara
waited until they met her gaz
e. 
“
The men aren't here, curse
them.  But we must carry Lee to the
Rom Baro
's.  It'll b
e warmer
and less draft
y from the storm.  You two must
carry him.
”
 

They
nodded eagerly.  Following Sahara's instructions, they car
ried
the boy out of the tent and to
the
Rom Baro
's
wagon
.  Sahara helped
them ease the child onto the mattress, quickly replacing h
is old,
damp blankets with fresh ones.
  Piling as many blankets on as
possible, Sahara ordered
Bossa
and Slena to hang blankets on
the walls. 
Obediently
, they did a
s they were told.  Sahara stood
up, steadying herself against the wall before squeezing p
ast the
women to go outside.  The wind was blowing hard
er now.  Sahara stared into the
sky, wondering when
Nicolae
would re
turn.  Her heart pounded harder
as she thought about the stories
they had heard of recent Indian
attacks.  When the gypsy caravan had pas
sed through the last
town, they had seen Indians
.  The solemn faced Indians had
frightened Sahara.  She had never a
ctually seen an Indian before. 
Their tents staked in the mea
dows and their children playing
while the women cooked struck her as familiar. 
Their lifestyles
were so similar to the gypsies
that, in a way, Sahara felt as
though they were her brethren.  S
everal Indians had stopped what
they were doing, looking up
to watch the gypsies pass.  She
wondered if they knew what the caravan was.  Certain
ly they must
have believed the gypsies to be
more pioneers taking away their
land.  But the
Rom Baro
had ign
ored the red men, directing his
kumpania past the Indian camp.