The Gypsy Queen

by Samuel Solomon

  “Welcome Yana,” she said. “All of us are so happy that you made it back!” Yana tried to hurry and swallow the bite she had stuffed in her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she said through more than a few crumbs.

  “You and the King are heroes of Jedikai!” she beamed. Yana smiled as she stuffed another bite. She had not realized how hungry she was. Her and the King, she thought. That sounded strange. It was not long ago that she had been just a gypsy on a hillside, no one important.

  “Can I ask you a question, Yana?” the servant girl asked.

  “Of course,” Yana asked.

  “Are you with the new King? Will you marry him and be queen?” Mmmph! Yana choked on her pastry. She struggled to clear her throat to speak.

  “Me? Marry a King?” she said in disbelief. “I am only a gypsy,” she said.

  “The King does not have to marry royalty,” the girl replied eagerly. “He could choose you!” Yana laughed. “He could? But why in the world would I ever choose him?”

  The servant girl looked at her like it was the stupidest question she had ever heard. It had not even occurred to her that a girl would even question it. Yana decided to clarify.

  “I... I travel. I am not the homecoming kind,” she said.

  “But he’s the King.”

  “Yes. He is wonderful,” Yana agreed. “But I do not know if I could spend all my life in his courts.”

  “Well, we want you to be queen!” she said, the looks on the other girls’ faces who had gathered all showed agreement.

  “I imagine that not everyone in Jedikai wants that,” she said, considering it. “Gypsies have always had trouble with city folk.”

  “Not here, you don’t,” the girl said. “We would love to serve you!” Yana had never heard anyone say such a thing to her before.

  “Do you not hate serving in the palace, serving others?”

  “Serving the King...” she said, “The King was a good man, we have always been happy to serve him. To serve the new King.. King Bastion...” her eyes sparkled with imagination. “Serving him would be an honor.”

  Yana gasped. “Then maybe it’s you who should marry him!” The galley girls all giggled relentlessly at that.

  Mille spoke up. “It’s clear that the one he wants is you, Yana.”

  “Bosh. I would probably be a terrible queen,” Yana joked.

  “He loves you, Yana. That’s what we think,” Mille said, tones of agreement chiming in. The servant girl grinned, excited.

  “Oh Yana,” she asked, “do you love him too?”

  “Are you in love with King Bastion?” Mille said.

  Yana blushed and looked down. She looked up, unable to speak, her eyes betraying an obvious truth. Yana certainly did love that darling boy, once upon a time... and she certainly did love King Bastion, now. The galley girls’ mouths all dropped open, and they began cheering and teasing, as Yana’s lack of an answer was answer enough.

  “Join the crew!” the servant girl shouted.

  They all loved him.

  Mille led Yana back to Bastion’s chambers, at her request. The door was closed, and neither of them wanted to part ways. They walked instead to a nearby balcony that overlooked the streets west of the palace.

  “Look,” Yana pointed down. “There are gypsies in the city!” Mille looked down. Sure enough, there were. That was not entirely remarkable, as it was not unheard of.

  “There’s lots of gypsies!” Yana added. The fact that there were so many made it notable. It was dark, but the music she could hear was everywhere, telling their tale.

  “There have been many more in the city, since the news of your quest. Many more people have welcomed them in, after hearing that you saved King Bastion, and his men.”

  “He saved me too,” Yana replied.

  “Kushti baxt,” Mille said. Yana was going to agree, but stopped cold.

  “Good luck,” Yana translated. “You are a gypsy!” Mille smiled as big as she could. She was indeed. Yana looked closer, looking into her eyes.

  “And we have met before,” she said. “Haven’t we?”

  “Yes, you have,” Bastion said, walking up to them both.

  “Where have we met before?” Yana asked, trying hard to think. Mille gave a demure smile, held one finger over her lips, and departed without a word.

  “You scared her away!” she teased Bastion. Yana had been having such a fun time with Mille that that she had nearly forgotten the difficult day. Bastion’s face reminded her.

  “May I sleep in your chamber tonight?” she asked.

  “You may,” he said, leading her to it. They entered and closed the huge door. Yana was drawn to the small firepit on the balcony, which held a fire already roaring hot. His servants must have started it for him, she figured. Bastion poured some wine, and they had wine and cheeses together. Yana found them both to be divine.

  “The city seems to be alive with gypsies, Bastion,” Yana said as they ate. “They were everywhere out there.”

  “Yes,” said Bastion. “They are celebrating our victory. Some of the captives were villagers here in the kingdom, and all of them are happy to be home. Writing songs of Yana, the gypsy warrior.”

  “Why do they think I am a hero?” she asked.

  “I told them that you were. I gave permission for the citizens and captives to discuss your efforts freely.”

  “You did not ask me,” she said. “Why would you give that permission?”

  “Look down below,” he answered. “See the gypsies in the streets, dancing with the villagers and citizens?” Yana had her answer.

  “You did it to help relations with your people and mine. So that the city would welcome us,” she said. That was a nice move.

  “Yes. But I confess, I did it for selfish reasons, too.”

  “Selfish?”

  “I did it so that they would welcome you,” he said.

  “How is that selfish?” she asked, the answer dawning on her even as she said it. “Ohhhh....” she trailed off. He wanted her to be welcome with the people of Jedikai...

  just in case she might want to stay.

  Bastion pulled out a package, and handed it to Yana. She recognized it with joy. She took it from him, and pulled her harp out. She had played it for him at the fire, before the dance. She was so happy to have it here. She took to it and began playing softly. She hoped it would lend Bastion comfort, just as it comforted her. Bastion pulled over a large drum, and set it between his legs, as they sat by the fire.

  “Tonight,” he said, taking a sip of wine, “we celebrate like gypsies too.” He began to thump the drum, deep loud bass in the center, sharper snaps around the edges. Yana played assuredly, and matched her speed on the harpstrings with the beat of Bastion’s djembe drum.

  Yana thought it must have been the best music she had ever heard.

  They slept soundly that night, Yana pressing in to the curve of his body, just as she had the night she found him, and since then.

  She was no longer certain who was protecting who...

  _____________________

  The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 16- “Stone”

  Degonyat presided over the slave auction in Kaffa. It was going slow, since he had less stock. Too many older people, too. His buyers liked them young. The auctioneer was shouting and hollering numbers, as the traders poked and pushed the woebegone slaves. They were always at their worst during the sale. Some of them panicked or cried, and that was always a nuisance. It didn’t affect their prices too much, since the traders knew it was normal, but if any of them became too rebellious, they were less desirable and would not fetch as high a price. It was an art, Degonyat believed, beating them just enough to make them viable at auction, and not rebel- but not so much as to make them appear worthless or overly-wounded. He prided himself in getting just the right combination.

  Today, however, the auction was not foremost in his mind. It only served to anger him, reminding him of the invasion perpetrated by the black riders of
Jedikai, as Volga and his fresh stock of slaves were absent. Degonyat could not let such an invasion go unpunished, and he had to find a way to shut down the black riders for good. They could put him, and even most of Kaffa, out of business. They were ruthless, no doubt. He saw what short work they made of eleven men.

  “Bari,” he called out to his right-hand man. “How are you coming along?”

  “We have over two hundred men assembled, and we have begun what training we can.”

  “Only two hundred?”

  “I know you asked for four hundred, but it is no small task to find that many,” Bari said. “Some left for Nikomedia.” Degonyat frowned, his huge eyebrows furrowed together like one thick shrub.

  “How many more can we get?” Degonyat asked.

  “I will get some more when the next ship comes in from Trebizond,” Bari said. “But it will still leave us short of the four hundred.”

  “I thought so. I want you to see how many you can recruit from the ships, and then I want you to use slaves.”

  “Slaves?”

  “Yes, slaves!” he said, exasperated. “I want you to go to all the slaves we have after this auction, and see who wants to fight.

  “Tell them that I will release them. I will guarantee their freedom, if they help us fight in Jedikai.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Yana walked out of the city alone, waving to the gatekeepers as she went. She saw the main gate, set off to the right of the entrance. She had barely noticed it before, but she had always been on horseback. The gate was massive, as high as the city walls, and looked heavy. Dark wood planks tightly set together, on metal wheels with a wide, flat surface. Yana had never seen the gate actually close before. Maybe they only did that when there was a threat, she thought. Her curiosity made her want to watch it open and close, and see how it worked.

  The gate was imposing, and Yana felt like it had tales to tell. Those old gatekeepers she had enchanted probably had a few stories too. She walked past, realizing that the gate had more than one function. It would keep an enemy at bay, and protect the citizens well enough... but it would also imprison them, unable to leave. Yana liked the gate open.

  She exited the city and headed to her right, to the west meadows. She had wanted to come see her friends sooner, but the death of the King prompted her to tend to Bastion first. She did not want to leave him alone, on a day like that. She had mixed feelings about it- she loved him dearly... but she felt like the more time they spent, and the more tender moments, the more difficult it might make things when she had to go. It was too late anyway, she realized- to say goodbye to Bastion would be excruciating, no matter how or when.

  Her thoughts swirled into a new set of questions. Could she, perhaps, stay with Bastion? Could she abandon her travels, to be with him? It was cruel luck, that he would become King, chaining him to the city. She would rather take him with her, to destinations yet unknown. It was unlikely before, and now it was impossible. Even more unlikely, was the thought of her as some sort of queen. Queen of Jedikai? Her? The only appeal was a chance to be with the man she loved, a man like no other... and man whose equal she knew she would never meet. How could she just walk away from him? She was drawn to him like a magnet, and could not picture telling him goodbye. What she wanted was quite the opposite. In fact, what frustrated her the most, she realized, is that she simply did not know what she wanted more. She had no desire to choose.

  She wanted the impossible.

  She wanted both.

  Yana walked into the caravans camped in the west meadows. She saw men fixing their wagons and shoeing horses with blacksmiths that were clearly city folk that had come out. She saw gypsy women eagerly weaving baskets that they would surely sell or trade in the city. Music was everywhere, some faint and some close. Smells of fires cooking and incense burning faded in and out with the breeze.

  City folk were among the camps, just as well as the gypsies had been aplenty on the streets of Jedikai as she made her way out. It was a sight she would have never expected to see, and it warmed her heart to see it. She owed Bastion her gratitude. He really was a brilliant man, she thought. He will make a good King. With that, her thoughts wandered back to the ridiculous idea of her being his queen. Yana pulled back her scarf, exposing her face to the sun.

  “Yana!” a man shouted over the chatter of noise and voices. Everyone stopped and looked at him, and then around. Everyone turned their attention to her. Yana! Her name was shouted countless times in ragged unison. People dropped their activities and congregated around her, asking questions and speaking to her so that she could not even begin to respond. She smiled and engaged them.

  “Oi!” she shouted. “Oi!!” the people shouted back. They reached out for her to touch her, and she reached out with her hands to try to acknowledge everyone. These were her beloved people, the gypsies, and she was overjoyed to be with them. She had never felt as welcomed and loved as she did walking into the meadows, at that moment. Yana loved her solitude, too... but not today.

  New music burst forth as news that Yana was among them spread. Children bounded around her, cheering her, squealing her name and dancing. She certainly had not intended all this. She wished Bastion had been able to come celebrate with her. He could only promise he would try to come later. The kingdom needed him.

  “Yana!” Luba rushed up to her, and Yana scooped her up, despite the fact that she was not that much bigger. She swung her around in a circle, laughing and shouting. “I knew you would come back!” Luba shouted.

  “Of course I would come back!”

  “Come with me! I will show you to your wagon! Everyone will want to see you!” Luba said. Yana took her hand and let Luba tug her along through the maze of wagons and fires and people, even as they continued to surround her and celebrate her.

  “Yana!” the people of her caravan rejoiced. She had never heard her own name spoken so many times. Everyone knew her, it seemed. The children ran up- Dimmie, Emilee, followed by Kizzy and Nadya, the girls she had saved from the forest fire, and Jaelle. The one she saved from the dungeon. No doubt their gypsy tales of Yana’s bravery had resounded through the meadows and beyond. She did not seek to be any sort of legend. She just wanted to help her friends. Emilee flung herself at Yana, to hug her as tight as she could. Yana tried to return the embrace, but winced, as it pulled at her side. The knife wound was still nagging.

  “What is it?” Emilee pulled back, concerned.

  “Well, it’s just.... this wound. I need a fresh dressing.”

  “You got hurt? How did you get hurt?” Emilee asked. Yana had no intention of recounting her fight with Volga.

  “I just got hurt in the fighting,” she said. “It’s alright.”

  “Yana’s hurt!” Emilee shouted, trying to push everyone back and dismiss them. “She got hurt fighting the traders!” The crowd reacted with amazement and sympathy, as Emilee led her to her wagon.

  “My vardo,” she said, stroking the surface of the rail. It seemed like she had not seen her own wagon in ages. The rough edges and faded red paint greeted her like an old, dear friend. The only home she really knew.

  “I’ve been taking care of everything for you,” Jaelle said. “Kuta is grazing well here in the meadows.”

  Kuta, Yana thought. Her strong, faithful horse. She stroked her hand along the mare’s side, and kissed the horse’s face. Kuta was every bit as pleased to see her too, as she nuzzled Yana back and stepped her feet in place as though the horse wanted to dance as much as the other gypsies.

  “Thank you, Jaelle,” Yana said. She was so grateful. “Are you well?”

  “I am well,” Jaelle said, “thanks to you.” Yana realized all the gratitude needed to be pointed somewhere else. “I was only able to do what I did because of the King,” she said. “It was Bastion who led the way,” she said louder, so that everyone in earshot would hear.

  “It was the King,” she said. “He defeated the traders!”

  “But Yana,” Jaelle said, “yo
u rode with the black riders. You pulled me from that dungeon. I will owe you for all my life.”

  “Travel well,” Yana said. “That is all I would ask you to do in return.” Jaelle hugged her, and Yana felt her throat tighten, and tears well up. Jaelle had been there when Yana was younger, struggling alone. She was glad to see her once more, and glad she was still the beautiful gypsy girl she remembered. The horror of the dungeon was not evident in her eyes.

  “Yana,” her name now ringing in her own ears. Lyubov came up to her, walking slowly, as well as she could.

  “Lyubov!” Yana was thrilled to see her. “I love you!” she said, wrapping her arms enthusiastically around her dear old friend.

  “Da,” Lyubov said. “Da. I miss you, tekla,” she said, patting Yana on her shoulders affectionately. Oh, it was so good to see them all, Yana thought her heart would just burst. She put her hand on her side, as the pain of her battle pulsed, not too far from her happy heart.

  “What’s dis?” Lyubov asked, never missing a thing.

  “I got hurt,” Yana said.

  “You sit,” the old woman said without hesitation. “Luba, you get herbs and oils.” Luba knew them perfectly, an excellent student of Lyubov’s arts. She brought the requested items back swiftly. Yana lifted her shirt so Lyubov could tend to her. The old woman’s hands worked quickly. She pulled and wiped the redness, making it sting.

  “You don’t fear,” Lyubov said. “It will heal soon.” It was looking better, but it was an angry wound. Lyubov looked her in the eyes.