The Gypsy Queen

by Samuel Solomon

  Listening to Yana play her little harp was her favorite music, and Yana would play it to say thanks, and maybe get a little comfort from it too. She set it in her lap, and began to stroke the little strings gently. Her mother had taught her to play when she was barely old enough to walk, and though the only songs she knew were those she invented, her music always attracted anyone who could hear.

  She closed her eyes and played her heart out, not just playing a little tune, but pouring out all her feelings, as long as she pleased. She could hear others, as they were coming closer to hear her play. She played and played, her music almost sounding like a soulful journey, a strident run, an invitation to celebrate.

  When Yana finally finished, and opened her eyes, there he was.

  Bastion. Sitting amongst the others.

  Chills caressed her skin. She had known he was close. He didn’t speak, as the last notes she had played still hung in the air. She realized she was indeed happy to see him.

  She also realized that everyone else who had gathered were now staring, wondering who this stranger was, sitting in their midst. They were naturally suspicious of outsiders; many of them had caused them harm from time to time. They looked to Yana.

  “Oi, Yana,” Bastion said finally. She smiled at him, unable to hide the smile in her heart.

  “Bastion,” she acknowledged with a nod. He remembered. The small crowd in their midst was both relieved, seeing that this was someone who was obviously acquainted with Yana... but also apprehensive.

  They had heard the name Bastion before too.

  Suddenly, drums popped into rhythm in the distance, and Luba perked up immediately. They were gypsy drums. This was the beat of the dance. She looked at Yana.

  “It’s the dance, Yana! The dance!” exclaimed Luba.

  “Well, by all means, go dance if it pleases you!” Yana replied. Maybe they would disperse, and she could speak with Bastion alone. She had a lot of questions, and the look on his face said that he did too.

  Others began to get up and head towards the drums.

  Emilee rushed up to them. “It’s the dance!” she announced. “Come dance, Yana!”

  “You dance,” Yana replied, though she realized that the drums and the energy coursing through her as she sat looking at Bastion, the young boy, now a man, that she had not seen in years... the drums did call to her. She wanted to dance. It was the dance she had been teaching Luba and Emilee and some others.

  “Come on, Yana, come on,” the girls urged, Emilee tugging on Yana’s shoulder. Suddenly all Yana’s confusion, apprehension, and uncertainty left her, and she remembered herself. Proud, powerful, and utterly full of mischief. Damn right she was going to dance! She looked Bastion in the eye, and tilted her head, motioning for him to follow. Bastion knew well enough not to speak, and stood up, to come along and see the dance.

  Yana knew that Bastion was trouble, to be sure... but there would be no doubt in his mind now-

  Yana was pure trouble too.

  __________________________________

  The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 3- “Reach”

  The drums thumped succinctly, enticing the gypsies to the sound. Three old men played off to the side of a fire, likely the biggest one in the camp. Two wagons were aligned at an angle, nearly touching each other. Tapestries were draped in front of them both, almost touching as well. The people came to sit by the fire, as the anticipation built. Yana had run on ahead of Bastion with the girls, and disappeared into the camp in the direction of the drums, saying nothing.

  Bastion strolled that way too, taking in the smells and sounds of the gypsy camp. He had never forgot his time with them. He sat amongst the others, as they spoke and whispered to each other. The drums beat faithfully, and Bastion’s favorite- the djembe, led them. A big hollow thump it made, if you struck the center, and a higher pitch on the edges. He had one in his private quarters that he was known to play during times alone. He tuned in to his surroundings, and let his senses indulge. His stomach leapt just a bit as the girls emerged from behind the tapestries. It was Emilee first, and then Luba. They had castanets in their hands that they clicked along with the beat. Their hips began to sway, yanking and pulling the skirts that struggled to keep hold.

  Bastion could barely imagine seeing Yana dance this way before she promptly emerged too. Moving in unison with the young girls, she moved into the center of them. Bastion had heard of this dance- the belly dance. He was speechless as he took in the sight of Yana moving this way, moving with rhythm, her hips singing a song of their own. She wore a veil, and looked over at Bastion for a split second, and winked just as she spun with her companions. Devastating. Bastion could only marvel at how happy he was to see her. He had so much to say, and so much to ask... but for now, he just took in the glorious sight of Yana in her dance. She was unforgettable, for him... and this moment was a new favorite amongst the other moments he had burned into his memory of her.

  The steps of the dance allowed Yana to step quite closely to Bastion, and she let her bare stomach tighten right before him within her movements, yet pretended to ignore Bastion as she did it. Emilee, finally, allowed her dance to wind herself down to one knee, followed by Luba, and then Yana, perfectly behind them. The drummers looking on watched for their cue, and wrapped up their last few beats as the girls finished. Yana cast her eyes to the ground, just as she had taught the girls to do along with her. The crowd cheered and clapped, and the music struck back up again, this time just the drums, and someone playing the flute along with them.

  Yana got up from her dance and hugged Emilee and Luba. “Kushti nevo!” she encouraged them in Romany. She couldn’t remember a time they had danced so well, and she was pleased. The look on Bastion’s face was worth a satchel full of gold! She left the scene, as the young girls stayed to dance with others, and Yana headed back for her wagon. Bastion headed for her as she went.

  “Yana,” Bastion said, as they approached the wagon, “your dance was lovely.” Yana smiled at him.

  “Thank you,” she said gracefully.

  “Will you come sit with me a while?” he asked.

  “Aye. We will find a fire,” Yana said. She wrapped herself with a cloak that was more suitable for the cool spring night. They wandered over to a fire on the fringe of the camp. No one was tending it at that moment, so they sat next to it. Bastion stoked the fire a bit, and added wood to it, bringing back a host of memories...

  Bastion had been rescued by Yana, as a youth, and was cared for by the gypsies. He had been unconscious for two days after being struck by lightning, and they had stayed in a cave Yana found after the storm. The gypsies tended Bastion’s burns with herbs and oils, after they found them, and he had healed well, save for a faint scar on his chest.

  He traveled with them a while, because he had already been a good distance from the kingdom, and the gypsies traveled even further with him before they realized who he was.

  Heir to the throne.

  Bastion’s father was the King of the great city of Jedikai, and the surrounding kingdom. That made Bastion a prince, but he had always tried to shirk that label. He took his place in the palace, and loved his work serving his father the King. He just didn’t feel like a prince. He was Captain within their small army, and that suited him just fine.

  The gypsies had delivered him back to the kingdom as a child, but not before they had shared their music and their lives with him a while. Yana became swift friends with him. He was older than she, and bigger, but she had dragged him through the mud to safety that first night, and had been his immediate caretaker following it, taught and guided by Lyubov. The music and community of the gypsies held a special place in his heart ever since. They showed him great kindness, especially Yana.

  They stoked fires together for those few short weeks, and were inseparable. Yana had been aching at the loss of her parents, and Bastion was in no hurry to leave her. The fire tonight reminded him of that, and the silence that lingered a while between them this night intim
ated that both of them were reflecting back on those times. It was difficult for Yana, as she had lost her parents, and Bastion always reminded her of that... and then she had lost Bastion as well, when he returned home.

  They sat next to each other rather close at the fire, knowing it would help them speak quietly, and not be overheard.

  Bastion spoke first. “I believe a thanks is in order,” he said.

  Yana played dumb. “A thanks? For the dance? That will do for now, but the next one’s going to cost you,” she said.

  Bastion nodded. “The dance was exceptional, Yana,” he replied. “But I do believe you may have saved my life again.”

  “I’m not that good of a dancer,” she joked.

  “What in the lands were you doing there in the gulley, Yana?” he asked.

  “I spotted you. I tracked you,” she replied. “I couldn’t help it. I knew it was you, even in the dark.”

  Bastion nodded. They had looked each other in the eyes unmistakably, before she had fled. She looked him in the eyes once more.

  “I am glad you survived,” she said.

  Bastion nodded again. “As am I,” he said, smiling. “I do not know if we would have fared so well without your intervention, Yana,” he continued.

  Yana looked away. “You shouldn’t be here, Bastion,” she said.

  “And you should not have been in that gulley, Yana, but here we are anyway,” Bastion replied.

  “Why don’t you go back to your kingdom and your army?” she asked. “Why follow me? You left us. Why not let us be?”

  “I have my reasons,” Bastion said. “But mostly, I just wanted to see you.”

  Yana frowned. Bastion had left her, left the gypsies, and though she knew it was the only way it could be, she still didn’t like it. If he wanted to see her, why didn’t he come around for so long?

  “I rather doubt that, Bastion,” she said.

  “I have had to let you be, Yana. It has pained me, but I had no choice. In fact, it was you that left,” he added.

  “I am a gypsy,” she said. “It is our way.”

  “I know that well, Yana.” It seemed cruel, her way. He knew it wasn’t, really, or at least he tried to tell himself that. He was stuck in the business of his kingdom, his people, and she was well set with her travels, and that was that. Bastion let her go her way, for it was the only choice he had. It seemed better to accept that than to try and make it otherwise.

  To make matters worse, there was a rift between their peoples. An uneasy alliance existed, but the people in the kingdom didn’t trust gypsies, and the gypsies mistrusted the city folk right back. They feared each other, and derided each other sometimes. The city folk often discriminated against them and treated them poorly, calling them ‘dirty’, though many gypsies were decent to do business with- trading goods, telling fortunes, carnivals, and helping with harvests.

  “It is good to see you once more, Yana. I am happy to see you,” Bastion said.

  “It is good to see you too, Bastion,” she replied. Just then, that feeling washed over her lightly, the same one she had when she pressed in with him in the uproots of that tree. It felt like a magnet. It felt safe.

  “You seem so different now,” Yana said. She wasn’t angry at him, but she knew of his ‘business’ in the kingdom. “You were such a darling boy,” she added.

  “You are just as I remember you, Yana,” Bastion replied fondly.

  “Bastion,” Yana said, “Things are not as they once were. I fear the path you travel. I fear it for my people,” she said.

  Bastion stopped to consider her a moment, as she was now. The last time he had seen her was a poor circumstance. There had been a hanging three summers ago. A horse thief finally caught. It was grim enough, but the thief was a gypsy, and Bastion was grieved when his eyes met with Yana’s in the gathering of people who witnessed it. Killing was a grim business, and Yana had just taken part in one as well, in the gulley last night with Bastion.

  Yana was a striking contradiction. She had the demeanor of a fearless warrior, unafraid of any challenge, adventure, or threat... and yet, she was a girl even still, a young woman now, and her heart was still obvious. She was a peaceful woman. She loved nature, and she loved her people. She did not love war, nor the death that accompanied it. She was certainly a survivor, as persevering the harshness of life gave her a hard strength. He was so pleased to see her simple beauty tonight, playing her harp and dancing with the children. That was the Yana he knew.

  “I fear for your people too, Yana,” Bastion said.

  She cocked her head at him. “What do you mean?”

  “There have been kidnappings. Some from the cities, and some gypsies too. It is the only way to explain it,” he said. Yana nodded.

  “Aye. There have been people missing lately. I have heard stories. But who is to say that it is more than coincidence?”

  “The Moldavians you put arrows into,” Bastion replied. “We have information that they are stealing villagers and selling them into the slave trade in the Lower Reach.”

  Yana paused. What could that mean? What would it mean to her and her caravan? Her people? Then her thoughts came together.

  “This is why you followed me,” she stated. “Did you come to warn me?”

  “Worse,” he said. “I came to ask you to join me.”

  Yana was shocked. She hadn’t seen that coming. “I think I’ve helped far too much already,” she replied. “I am a gypsy, not a warrior.” She tried to recount the stories of the black riders she had heard of, that all connected to him. “I sprang two arrows for you, but my arrows are not for men. They are for rabbits.”

  “Yana, I know you are a good tracker,” Bastion said.

  “How would you know such things?” she scoffed. “You know nothing of me!”

  He gave her a devious grin. “It is my business to know such things, Yana. It is known that you are a leader of gypsies. You are known in the city, and the villages.”

  “That means nothing!” she said. “The city folk only know that I can dance and play!”

  Bastion took a deep breath. “I have looked in on you, Yana. I have never forgotten about you. I could never forget you.”

  I should have known, Yana thought to herself. She had inquired of him from time to time, but always tried to mask her interest by inquiring of news in the kingdom, not of him specifically. Just like the pendulum of feelings she had felt since she helped him in the gulley... she both missed him terribly and wanted to see him, and also needed to avoid him however she could. There was no avoiding him tonight, so she did the one thing left to her that she desired, and leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder as they sat by the fire. As naturally as though they were still children, he leaned into her as well, and they sat there a while, warming each other and watching the fire burn.

  Yana had fallen in love with her darling boy, Bastion, that first night in the cold rain. She loved him still.

  They had been but children, and she tried to forget... but as she leaned into him, she could still feel the glow, the electricity that she felt that night. She had left him behind with great heartache, much like she had to abandon her search for her parents. She felt sorrow with him, because of that connection, but also, because they simply could never be together. They were too young, and lived in different worlds. They hadn’t even been near Bastion’s kingdom since two winters ago, and she had purposefully avoided his region most times. There was a great meadow to the west of the city, though, with rivers and berries that gypsies were often attracted to, and it was the only reason she had encountered him now.

  They sat quietly for quite some time, as the fire dwindled to the embers, Yana’s favorite part. It was silly, but the reddish-gold glow of them always reminded her of Bastion. Finally, Yana spoke.

  “It’s true that I am a tracker, Bastion,” she said. “The best,” she added with a glimmer of ego. “But I could never go with you. I could not ride with the black riders. I could never be that.�
�� Bastion did not reply, letting her continue.

  “Your way is to war, to the city, and that is not my path,” she said. “I hate the city for keeping you. I don’t like to see you as a warrior. You’d make a far better gypsy,” she said.

  Bastion smiled as their hair mingled and their faces pressed just a bit. He had been born a prince; such a suggestion was unthinkable. “Since I followed you from the gulley, I have thought how much help you could be to our cause. Your skills, and everything. But I confess that I am selfish- I would have you come help just so I could be near you, so I could see you again. I know it’s not right; you are not a warrior. But our cause...” he trailed off... “Our cause is protection. We work and fight to protect our people, just as you would fight to protect your own.”

  “I fought to protect you, Bastion,” Yana whispered. He put his arm around her.

  “Thank you, Yana.” Then he continued, “I can best protect you by keeping you away from my warriors, not by causing you to join... but that means keeping you away from me as well.” The sadness of that statement hung in the air. He wished he hadn’t said it that way... but that’s how it was.

  “Tomorrow I will travel back to the city, and your caravan can go on its way, as always,” he said.

  Yana felt a deep, familiar pang of sadness. Tomorrow he would say goodbye to her once more. She would say goodbye to him. Suddenly she felt a strong instinct that made her think that she mustn’t let him go alone, because he would need her protection, but that was silly. She helped him the one time, but she was no warrior or soldier, just a gypsy girl, and he had soldiers. Still, she thought of him in danger on his missions and wanted to rush to help, just like the night they met, and the night that had just passed. No matter her instinct for him, goodbye was the only way.