The Gypsy Queen

by Samuel Solomon

  She listened to the wind whistle through the trees, hoping it would clear her mind, as it brushed through her hair.

  Draiman headed south for the Lower Reach, taking his time. He expected he would be there before Degonyat, and might see some old friends as well, if his luck was good.

  It couldn’t be that good, could it?

  Up ahead he saw a lone rider, apparently a girl. In fact, it looked like Yana. He decided to track her and stay out of sight for a while. It was not common for a woman to ride through a forest alone. Too many dangers lurked, and most of them would not dare. He prodded his horse forward, staying higher on the slope.

  The girl he tracked was a gypsy, by the looks of it. A bow was laden across her back. He was excited when he saw it- it had to be her. He had tried to seek her out in the west meadows, but she was never alone there, and Draiman was reluctant to seek her out in the city. He did not want to disrupt his own plans.

  The rider he was tracking began to take a strange course, and it did not take long for Draiman to realize that she knew she was being tracked. Yana would know by now, he figured. He directed his horse to intercept her, as they rounded a bend.

  “Yana!” he called out. He did not want her to get scared and flee. They were well into the forest. The girl stopped and looked his direction, as he came closer carefully. “Yana!” he shouted again, waving.

  He came around a small grove of trees, only to find Yana with an arrow drawn and aiming it straight at him.

  “Yana! It’s me, Draiman,” he called out.

  “I know who it is,” she replied, not lowering her aim. “I heard you were around.”

  “It’s good to see you, Yana,” Draiman said, trying to be friendly.

  “What do you want?”

  “Oh, I had been wanting to catch up with you since I heard of your heroic tales! Quite impressive. You are a credit to the Romany.”

  “Why are you following me?”

  “Actually, I am on my way south. I am to meet up with some old friends soon. My tribe did not want to make the trip.”

  “The Ursari have always been a sorry lot,” Yana said, insulting him. Draiman laughed.

  “A sorry lot indeed they are!”

  “You fit in well,” Yana said. She circled her horse around to keep her distance, and for the best position in case she would have to run.

  “Now, don’t be so harsh,” Draiman said. “We are gypsy, just like you.”

  “You are not like me,” Yana said with a scowl. “The Ursari are thieves. It is tribes like yours that give us so much trouble with the gaje.”

  “Not like you? Are you not a thief?” Draiman said. Yana said nothing.

  “Did you not have a hand in the burning of Tatu Castle? Did you not kill men in Kaffa?” Yana was uneasy, and her hands were getting tired of aiming the arrow at him, so she eased it downward, but did not put it away.

  “We stopped slave traders from stealing gypsies!” Yana retorted.

  “So you did,” Draiman said. “So you did... and now, you are with the King of Jedikai?”

  “He is a good man,” Yana said. “A better man than you.”

  “A good killer, I am sure. The black riders have slain many men. He must be good at it by now. The black riders are cowards.” He could see he was getting to her.

  “And you, among them? Yana, the black rider?” he continued. “You should ride with us, Yana. Just like before. You don’t belong with the gaje.”

  “Where I ride is my concern, no one else’s,” Yana said. She could feel the anger rising up in her face. “Last time I rode with vagabonds like you, it was a disaster.”

  “Will you marry the good King?” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. Again, Yana had no reply.

  “If you marry him, you will not decide anything for yourself,” Draiman said. “He will rule over you, and the palace will become your prison.”

  Yana hated him for voicing those thoughts. They were exactly the things she was afraid of. He was doing this on purpose, she realized.

  “If I marry him, I will make love to him and bear him children. I will be queen, and expand the territory, and drive out worthless scoundrels like the Ursari,” she said.

  “You would be nothing but gaje filth,” he said, disgusted. “I am surprised that King Bastion would ever want a common gypsy thief like you anyway. I expect he will come to his senses and eject you from the city like an old pig carcass, before long. The city people do not want you there, Yana. You have enemies there.”

  “I have enemies out here, too- including you,” she said, raising her arrow once more to point at him. Draiman softened his tone.

  “Yana, you don’t belong in the city. You know it yourself. You will drag Bastion down, and make enemies for him. If you care about him, you would do him a favor to leave him. It will never work, and the citizens will not accept him, or you. If you fail, it will be at a terrible price.” Yana could feel her heart breaking at the possible truth Draiman spoke.

  “Be free, Yana. You are far too beautiful not to be free,” Draiman said.

  “I am free to choose my own paths,” Yana said. “None of those paths will ever lead to you.” Yana tried not to show her surprise as she began to see a dim aura around the edges of Draiman’s form. It was black, like an abyss. She felt chills ripple up her spine, and hair stand up on her neck.

  “You will be a gypsy slave to the King. You will never be free.”

  “Begone, Draiman. It would be well for you to never return.”

  Yana whipped her horse into a sprint, and bolted back towards the city. Tears streaked past her temples as she flew through the brush, searching for a good path back to Bastion. She hoped never, ever to see Draiman again. Her intuition told her she likely would anyway.

  She hoped next time, Bastion would be with her.

  She needed him.

  Draiman was content with his work. He had upset her, no doubt, and he could not imagine she would truly choose to stay with Bastion, no matter how great he was. It would not matter what she wanted, when Draiman defeated him. This time, he would not let Yana get away.

  She would make a fine slave, Draiman thought to himself.

  She will be the first one I take.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Yana calmed herself as she approached the gates of the city. She wandered alone on horseback, staying closer. She watched the builders building the towers around the city, embedded into the walls. The primary one, near the gates, was almost finished. She still could not tell what was being built on the west wall, by the meadows. She thought she might ask Obadiah, next time she saw him. It would be a much better talk than the one she had with Draiman.

  She was frustrated that she let Draiman speak to her at all, especially such poisonous words. She reminded herself of things that she knew were true: The black riders were no cowards. She had never seen courage like Tuvia had shown, helping her spring the team from Volga’s cage. Bastion was a good man who set people free, not a slaver. Even his servants served him happily. There was no way Bastion would reject her, not with the way he was with her. There was no way anyone could understand.

  Yana led her horse to the King’s livery. She left Kuta with the young stable hand that she had met on her first time there, and walked to the palace. The merchants and vendors, blacksmiths and horsemen all filled the streets, going about their business. A normal day in the city. Children ran here and there, and the sounds and smells of the city and its people were a sort of comfort to her. Yana wondered, if she were to stay, how long it might take for her to long for the road.

  She walked through the palace, greeting people along the way. She was troubled, and did not want to stop and talk. She made her way to the throne room, and the guard at the door greeted her.

  “The King is meeting with the chief engineer,” the guard said. “Shall I announce you?”

  “Yes please,” Yana said. The guard opened the door, and stepped in.

  “Your majesty, Miss Yana w
ishes an audience.” he said.

  “Send her in,” Bastion said. Yana entered, and looked at Bastion. He was sitting on the throne with a white-haired man she had not met. He looked scholarly and strange.

  “Welcome, Yana,” Bastion said. “We are just finishing our business.” Yana did not say anything, but bowed before them both. Bastion saw the look in her eyes.

  “Excuse us,” he said to the engineer, who got up and gathered his things.

  “Thank you Sire,” he said, and left them alone. The guard shut the door, as always. Yana approached the throne.

  “Bastion,” Yana said, “I love you.” Bastion went to respond, but saw that she was not finished. “I... want to be something good in your life. You deserve good things,” she said.

  “I want to be in your life.”

  “You are the best thing about my life,” Bastion replied.

  “But... what about everything else? Everyone loves you, the kingdom, the palace, everything. I am just a gypsy girl,” Yana said. Bastion could see that she was shaken. Something had happened.

  “What are you trying to say, precious Yana?” he asked.

  “I just want to know... if you love me... will you love me, no matter what?”

  “What has happened, Yana?”

  “I need to know, Bastion. Would you love me, even if I left, and never returned?”

  Bastion stopped to consider the question. It was not one to answer impulsively. Bastion could not bear the thought of her leaving, the thought of never seeing her again. Would he still love her? Would he still love her even in some grievous failure? In old age? In her absence?

  She was not asking to leave, or saying she would. She wanted to know that Bastion’s love for her was something more than a fleeting emotion.

  She wanted to know if he would only love her if she stayed.

  “Yana,” Bastion said, “I will love you for the rest of my days. I have burned you into my heart; your name is etched there. No matter what may come from this life, I will always love you.

  “You will always have a place with me.”

  Yana felt more humbled by his love then she ever had in her life. He spoke with conviction, and she had no doubt it was true. He would not say it otherwise.

  Yana stepped closer, and knelt before the throne, before Bastion. She took his hand and kissed it, and bowed her head.

  “Thank you, my King.”

  ____________________

  The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 19- “anticipation”

  “I have chosen my men, Sire,” Nico announced.

  “How many have you?” Bastion asked.

  “It will be twenty men under my command,” Nico said.

  “Have you begun training?” Otta asked. The three of them had gathered in the throne room to discuss the black riders. The Coronation was only days away, and Bastion was making sure his house was in order.

  “We have been training as ordered, sir,” Nico said.

  “How would you score their progress?” Bastion asked.

  “They are good fighters, Sire,” Nico said. “I chose the best of our forces. We have not yet trained outside the city.”

  “King Bastion,” Otta said, “I recommend that we get them out in the field as soon as possible.”

  “Agreed,” Bastion said. “Nico, I want the men to begin stealth training at night. Every night. Make sure the horses are being trained to step lightly on command.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Nico said.

  “I need scouts and spies in the Kingdom. Spies we can trust,” Otta said. “I would call for groups of four. Practice stealth, and report back any and all activity.”

  “Do you not trust your current spies?” Bastion asked Otta.

  “My current spies are suspect,” Otta said.

  “Why are they suspect?” Bastion asked.

  “Because they are gypsies.”

  “That is not reason enough. Any spy could be suspect.”

  “Pardon me Sire,” Nico said, “but that is not true of the black riders.”

  “Spies are suspect by nature,” Otta said. “Their art is deception. The question is where their true loyalty lies. To that end, Nico is correct. The black riders are committed to the service of the crown of Jedikai.”

  “Unfortunately, the black riders do not have access to some of the circles we must penetrate. I must use others as well. The gypsies are effective spies because they travel and are good at deception.”

  “Good at deceiving even you?” Bastion asked.

  “King Bastion, if one is skilled at discerning lies, he can gain just as much knowledge from being lied to, as he can from the honest truth.”

  “Perhaps you will teach me such discernment one day,” Bastion said.

  “There are many things I can teach you, Sire,” Otta replied. Bastion knew that was likely true, but did not like the way Otta said it. Something was off.

  “If I may inquire,” Nico asked of Otta, “what is the purpose for the urgency of the black riders? The King vanquished the threat.” Bastion and Otta looked at each other.

  “The purpose is two-fold,” Otta said. “First, it is never so easy to defeat your enemy. The slave trade is a many-headed beast. We must be vigilant against it. The moment we think we are invincible, we become most vulnerable of all. We must guard against any retaliation that could come from the King’s victory.”

  “No one could attack the city directly and expect to succeed,” Nico said.

  “Our enemies often multiply, after an attack,” Bastion said. “Otta is right. In this case, a siege would likely fail, of course... but that is not the only way our enemy could harm us- especially the slave traders. If they began to kill or steal villagers around the kingdom, they could still draw us out. That is why we moved to hit them first... but we cannot predict whether they will be wise enough to stay far away, or fool enough to retaliate.”

  “That’s why you want us scouting,” Nico said. “What if we encounter an enemy? Report, or destroy?”

  “Destroy,” Bastion said. “Then report,” he added with a smile. “We hit first, and we hit hard. Without warning, and without discussion.”

  “That is the other reason the black riders will continue to operate,” Otta said. “To strike fear in the hearts of our enemies.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Mille stepped lightly with Yana, as they practiced with the band. The Coronation was near at hand, and they had their song prepared for the party in the Great Hall that would take place the night before. Yana loved dancing with her, and Mille’s idea for their number was great fun for them both. They finished the day’s practice, and sat for a drink of water, as the band members filed out of the room.

  “I can’t wait to do your song with you,” Yana said.

  “You dance so well,” Mille said. “A lot of people are anxious about performing for an audience.”

  “I have been teaching the children of my caravan to dance,” Yana said. “I teach them to belly dance!” Mille laughed with her.

  “How long have you been in the King’s courts, Mille?” Yana asked.

  “I have been performing here for more than four years,” Mille said.

  “Do you ever get to travel?” Yana asked.

  “I have been away from the city only twice, when the King traveled to other kingdoms. Otherwise, I have stayed in Jedikai.”

  “Don’t you ever miss it?”

  “I do miss it, sometimes. But I have many friends here- the girls in the galley, and people I see in the taverns.”

  “How did you ever come to this job?” Yana asked. Mille hung her head as she remembered.

  “I was a slave,” she said. “I was captured by traders. They... beat me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Yana said. “But how did you get here?”

  “It’s alright. I was rescued from the traders.”

  “Rescued?”

  “I was rescued by the black riders,” Mille said. “They brought me to the city, and I gained an audi
ence with the King. I had always been the best storyteller in my clan. The King enjoyed what I did, so he asked me to stay on.”

  “Didn’t you try to get back to your clan?” Yana asked.

  “My clan was gone,” Mille said. “Some were sold off to places I don’t know. Some died.” Yana hung her head too, sorry she had asked. She had never heard of something so sad.

  “I could leave here any time I want,” Mille said, “but since then, I have chosen to stay closer to the King’s gates. I... was afraid to go back out.” Yana nodded. She knew exactly what she meant. She had wandered out too far and into danger. Staying closer to the King’s gates offered her comfort, though she hated to admit it to herself. She was fearless enough to rush into battle, but even then, it had been Bastion that had lent her the courage she needed against those awful men.

  “The King... there are rules. Serving under the King’s rule does not look like freedom... but here, I am free to be a gypsy, and free to not be afraid. Besides- this city needs as much gypsy flavor as I can give it!” Mille said with a laugh.

  “I know that!” Yana said. “The gaje are so dry!”

  “It’s a joy to share with the people here,” Mille said. “I just wish we had a bigger place to play, where all the city could come and watch us perform. The people of Jedikai could use more music and dance in their lives!”

  “And it would help so much, if they could get to know us better. They would not be so harsh and suspicious,” Yana said.

  “If their queen was gypsy, that might help too,” Mille said.

  “Or it could make things worse,” Yana said. “I do not know the wisdom of that. I don’t want to become a problem for the King.”