The Gypsy Queen

by Samuel Solomon

  “Greetings, Draiman,” Bastion said as they shook.

  “Oi, King of Jedikai,” Draiman said. He hung back slightly, letting Bastion’s attention shift away. Yana wanted desperately for the wagon to get moving. After Bastion looked away, Draiman leaned back in towards her, speaking in hushed tones.

  “When you fail as queen, you will ruin Jedikai for all gypsies,” he said. It was not a threatening tone he used. It was a helpful one.

  “You should run. You will ruin your dear King, and then ruin us all,” he said. “One way or another, you will be a gypsy slave. He will reject you when you don’t obey.” Yana tugged on Bastion again, needing his help.

  “Draiman here says we won’t make it,” Yana said, unable to say it any other way. Bastion’s demeanor changed quickly, as he pulled Yana away and set himself between them.

  “If you make trouble for this kingdom, you won’t live to see the sunrise,” he said. “Believe it.”

  “Oh yes,” Draiman said, “the black riders. The black cowards. I am not too worried about them. Besides, with this damn gypsy thief you are marrying, I’d say your kingdom will have more trouble than it can stand without any help from me.”

  “Your own trouble is upon you,” Bastion said. Nico stood behind Draiman, and jerked him away from the King.

  “Enjoy your prison, Yana!” he shouted, as he was hauled away.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Nico and the three men with him pulled him away from the parade as the wagon finished its circuit and delivered its passengers to the palace. They forced Draiman away through several streets, into an alley between buildings. Once they had privacy, Nico punched him hard in the stomach. Draiman fell to his knees, where his men landed several more blows.

  “Leave Jedikai and never return,” Nico said, as Draiman gasped for breath on his hands and knees.

  “The black cowards,” Draiman said with contempt. “We finally meet.”

  “If we meet again, you won’t even know it,” Nico said.

  “You can’t kill me,” Draiman said. “Your master won’t let you. You do what you’re told.” Nico kicked him in the midsection.

  “This is your last day in Jedikai,” Nico said. Draiman dragged himself to his feet, dusting himself off and catching his breath.

  “Do you know who I am?” Draiman said, indignant. Nico smiled and nodded.

  “We know who you are,” he said. “A dead man.” Draiman was suddenly scared. The looks on their faces said that each of them wanted very much to murder him right that instant. He was surrounded by four assassins with blades in their hands, and no defense. He wanted to scoff at them, but decided it unwise. They would get theirs soon enough, he thought.

  “I will leave peacefully, of course.” Draiman said, putting on an affable smile. “Enjoy your new King.” Draiman turned to head for the city gates, only to get shoved, stumbling forward. Draiman was enraged, but he knew that he had pushed them far enough. He did not retaliate.

  Two of Nico’s men accompanied Draiman to the city gates, which was not far from where they had confronted him. Pook and Gumi had come down from their lookout, as they had seen the King’s guards approaching with the gypsy man.

  “This man is never to enter these gates again,” one of Nico’s men told the gatekeepers. “If you should see him enter, alert the watchmen at once.”

  “Yes sir,” they both said, taking a good look at him to make sure. The two men ejected Draiman from the city, watching him veer off to his right, towards the west meadows.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Nico entered the King’s stables in a hurry. The parade was finished and he had been seeing to the conclusion, making sure the crowds dispersed properly. Tension was the feel of the streets, and he had his men on high alert. He passed by the horses, and all the feed and tack, and opened a heavy door. It was always locked, except when there were men on the other side. The rest of the black riders greeted him silently, as they usually did. Silence and stealth wasn’t just a strategy, it was a habit for them. A lifestyle. The new riders were coming along well, and had earned a short break in their training.

  Otta came in the door shortly after Nico, and it was shut and locked. Armor and weapons dominated the chamber. It was the war room of the black riders, and no one else outside their group could enter- not even the stable hands.

  “Report,” Otta said.

  “We ejected a gypsy today from the city,” Nico said.

  “Yes, I saw it.”

  “He did not act like a normal gypsy. Apparently, he knows Yana.”

  “Yes. I know he does,” Otta said.

  “Do you know him?” Nico asked.

  “I do. He is one of my spies,” Otta said.

  “That’s why he was not afraid to run his mouth,” Nico said. “But he apparently upset the King, and Yana, too.”

  “I will deal with him,” Otta said.

  “I have never seen such disrespect for the King, and he did not fear to insult the black riders, even in our midst,” Nico said. “I request permission to end him tonight.”

  “No,” Otta said. “I need him right now. He is not a threat to the kingdom, and his information is vital.”

  “Captain,” one of the new riders said, “I think I have seen that gypsy when I was scouting.” Otta interrupted him.

  “We are in a delicate time,” he told them all. “You are all sworn to secrets. It is the heart of what we do. It is why we succeed. It is what saves lives. You must all say nothing to anyone outside this group, and this room. Anything you know, or suspect, I want you to report to Nico, but do not act. Our strategy will be based on information. We will move, when the time comes. Be ready.”

  “Sir,” one of the riders said. “What if that gypsy comes into the city again?”

  “His name is Draiman,” Otta said. “If he comes into the city, kill him. Otherwise he must be left alone. Understood?” All the men in the room uttered their agreement.

  “What reports do we have from the scouts?” Nico asked.

  “The west meadows have been trouble free,” Nathaniel said. “Nothing much down Sardica road.”

  “The north mountains through to Jofranka are clear. We have not seen anything remarkable except the swollen rivers,” one of the group leaders said.

  “There is activity in the Lower Reach,” the next one spoke up.

  “Where?” Otta said, already guessing the answer.

  “Tatu Castle. There are large numbers of foreign men there, though we don’t know their purpose.”

  “That’s where I saw him,” the man whom Otta interrupted said. “I am not sure, but I think this ‘Draiman’ was in the Lower Reach around that Castle.”

  “Nico, I want you to head up the group that goes to the Lower Reach and report to me directly what you find out.” Nico nodded, and then turned to the rest of the men. He was still angry.

  “If any of you see Draiman inside the city walls, cut him open,” Nico said. “A week’s wages for the man who succeeds. Outside the city, scout him as much as you can, if you see him.”

  The meeting ended, and the men left the armory locked down tight. They scattered as they were trained to do, as they went into the streets of the city.

  Otta headed back to the palace, fuming about Draiman. He had been instructed not to cause trouble, yet nearly got killed for harassing Yana and the King. Otta still needed him, but he did not tolerate deviation.

  He would have to meet with Draiman quickly. He would have to warn him to stay out of the city, to protect him...

  and he wanted very much to know what the hell was going on at Tatu.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Welcome!” Obadiah said, greeting Bastion and Yana warmly. They entered in to his large home, where the citizens present all applauded them warmly before Obadiah could even announce them. Obadiah had a grand house, given that he was the master builder of Jedikai. He was not the most wealthy, given some of the traders, but the wealthy folks were certainly in attendance. Oba
diah had been a long time friend of the royal family, and he loved to have them over for more informal events.

  Bastion had black riders with them for security, but they were dressed as normal party-goers. Bastion wore his red and gold mantle, and Yana wore her matching shawl.

  “Come in, have a drink!” Obadiah exhorted them.

  “Thank you,” Bastion said, and led Yana with him to the kitchen. Yana noticed they were getting a lot of stares, just like when she had first attended an event in the Great Hall. It would just be something she would have to get used to in the city, she figured. The looks were mostly accompanied by smiles, and after all- when the King and queen attend a party, Yana was savvy enough to play the game.

  “I have saved my best wine for your visit, Sire,” Obadiah said, pouring them glasses himself. Bastion would have encouraged him to just call him Bastion, like when he was a boy... but in the mixed crowd, it would be inappropriate.

  “You are too kind, my friend,” Bastion said, taking the two glasses from him and handing one to Yana.

  “Thank you Obadiah,” Yana said. “Your home is wonderful. It is a pleasure to be able to come see it.” Yana could not stop looking around. It was no palace, but the architecture and décor were extraordinary.

  “Well, I built the walls, but it’s this young lady here that gets the credit for making them not so ugly!” He pulled an older woman snugly to his side. “This is my wife, Gayle.” Yana came around the counter between them to greet her happily.

  “It is such a pleasure to meet you,” Yana said. “I hear that you have both known Bastion a long time.” Gayle embraced Yana as a daughter.

  “We have known him since he was a cute little baby,” she teased, winking at Bastion. “That means we have all the dirt on him,” she added with a hint of mischief. Yana could tell she was going to like Gayle.

  “Dirt?” Bastion said, incredulous. “There’s no dirt on me! I have been a perfect saint all this time!” Bastion said it fully indignant, as they all burst into laughter.

  “Ohhh no,” Yana said. “I’m sure there’s plenty of dirt on you.”

  “Has he told you about the time he stole rum from the King’s galley and set the livery on fire?” Gayle asked. Yana gasped in mock disapproval, looking at him.

  “Speculation!” Bastion said in defense. “No one saw anything!” They all laughed again. Yana took a good sip of wine. Obadiah was right, it was quite excellent. She was enjoying seeing Bastion in his element, with his friends.

  “We have known of you since you saved Bastion as a small boy,” Obadiah said. “We never got to meet you, but he spoke of you many times after that.”

  “He did?” Yana said, surprised.

  “For the longest time, he wouldn’t shut up about you!” Gayle agreed. “He was just a boy, but you made an impression on him, no doubt.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” Yana said. “If you talked to old Lyubov, in my caravan, she’d probably tell you I was just as bad, talking about Bastion.”

  “We’d love to meet her sometime,” Gayle said.

  “Then she’d spill the dirt on me too! I can’t be having that!” Yana laughed.

  “Tell me,” Gayle said, “why didn’t you ever come to visit the Prince after that? I know he would have loved to see you again.” Yana hung her head just a little, at the tough question.

  “Fact is,” she said, “I was in love with that darling boy,” She looked at Bastion. “I couldn’t bear it. It broke my heart, saying goodbye.” Bastion looked at her with loving eyes. He pulled her in and kissed her sweetly.

  “I’ve been in love with this little gypsy as well, since then,” the King said, heightening his volume. “If finding love is the dream of Kings, then it is my dream come true, to have this amazing girl next to me.” Yana looked at him with gratitude. She could feel her boldness so well next to him. She had always been a sort of leader among her caravan, and an entertainer occasionally, but she had felt so out of place in the city. She was starting to get a better feel for it.

  “Come,” Gayle said, “I’ll introduce you to everyone. We have all been so eager to meet you!”

  “Wait!” Obadiah said. “More wine,” pouring Yana a fresh glass.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Yana said, heading off with Gayle.

  “How are you doing, Bastion?” Obadiah asked, motioning for him to come outside. They walked out onto his patio, taking in the cool night air.

  “I am doing well,” Bastion said. “I have managed to aggravate a lot of citizens, and inspire many more.”

  “Sounds like a great start!” Obadiah said. “Just remember, for whatever people say about gypsies, good or bad, your support will come from the well-being of the kingdom. If people have a few chickens in the yard, and a few coins in their purse, and can sleep well at night, their complaints will only amount to whining. And it doesn’t befit a King to worry about whiners.”

  “Agreed,” Bastion said. “My father dealt with the same issues, his whole life. I hope I can handle it as well as he did.”

  “If you can weather the stormy first days of your Kingship, you’ll find it gets easier. You are the topic of the day... but eventually they will find other things to talk about, and you can just do your job,” Obadiah replied. “How is Yana handling everything so far?”

  “She is such a strong girl,” Bastion said. “I know she will make a great queen, if she can weather these first days as well as I hope.” Obadiah lit up his carved stone pipe, smeared to a deep brown from years of use.

  “You love her,” he said.

  “Yes. I believe if others take the time to get to know her, they will love her too.”

  “Many people already do, thanks to you. But of course, there are always those who will frown on gypsies, no matter if there are good people among them, or bad apples amongst themselves.”

  “We encountered a gypsy man today, at the parade. Someone who knew Yana. He was insulting to us both. We will not see him in the city again, but it would seem that there are gypsies that don’t approve of our engagement, as well as the citizens.”

  “You just do what you know to do, and stand fast,” Obadiah said, setting his giant hand on Bastion’s shoulder. “Those of us who support you will work just as hard for the harmony you spoke of. We want it too.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Obadiah said. In the absence of his father, he was grateful for the old builder’s support. Especially since Otta seemed so distant. Now that the Coronation was past, he would try to sort things out with his uncle soon. Obadiah puffed on his big pipe a while, as they discussed the project in the west meadows, and matters of the city.

  “Let’s go in and win over the hearts of your loyal subjects!” Obadiah said, as he rapped his spent pipe against his knuckles.

  “I’m sure Yana is going to make that an easy task,” Bastion said, heading back in.

  Gayle worked the room with Yana confidently, introducing her to the various men and women in attendance. Yana was gracious, as she was always curious about people, and many of them responded with grace and kindness. Some of them asked her of her stories as a gypsy, and as a black rider, fighting alongside Bastion. Yana gave them as much as she could, without giving them much at all. Her favorite moments being when she set fire to the slave traders’ castle, and the way Bastion saved her from drowning in the Black Sea.

  Many of them had seen her dance in the Great Hall, being friends of the palace. The men raved about it, and one of the women mentioned how wonderfully she had played the harp on her first night there. Yana’s intuition was giving her alarm, underneath all the pleasantries. She could tell that some of them genuinely liked her, but she could tell that many of them did not, offering fake smiles, and faint praise. Yana pretended not to notice, so as to not cause a problem... but it was a problem.

  She sipped her wine and had another glass, feeling the warm effects. She was careful with her words, so as not to offend or be unseemly. Still, she had to bite her tongue, as she could sens
e the disapproval of some, even with Bastion by her side. They seemed to disapprove of them both. Yana did not like such fakery, and would rather slash them verbally or fight them outright, then to allow it. Yana was many things, but a politician wasn’t one of them. The more sharp words came to the tip of her tongue, the more she knew to stay quiet and defer to Bastion. That wine wasn’t treating her too well.

  “I need some air,” she said, and Bastion happily led her out to the patio, just the two of them. Gayle brought them some water, a welcome relief from the wine, and they sat together, finally nearing the day’s end.

  “We’ll go soon,” Bastion said.

  “I don’t know how you can stand some of these people,” Yana said. “They are not friendly, even though they try to pretend.”

  “Most of them are good for the city, even if they don’t agree with the King,” Bastion said. “Having critics is unavoidable. Including,” Bastion added, “the man from the float today.”

  “Ugh,” Yana said. “I just don’t,” Yana cut off, interrupted. People were talking above them, from an upper balcony.

  “I just don’t know why he would choose some gypsy whore,” a woman said amongst discussion.

  “He passed over my daughter for a vagrant,” a man said.

  “They ought to hang every gypsy out there,” another voice said. “The west meadows are for us, not them.”

  “The King doesn’t know what he is doing,” another said. “I wish we still had his father in charge.”

  “He wasn’t any better! You remember the wench he chose for queen,” they said.

  “That’s probably where he gets it.”

  Yana’s heart broke for Bastion, and raged with fury at the words they overheard above them. She looked him in the eyes, as he looked at her.

  “I am sorry you heard that,” Bastion said. “Forget them.” He got up, and led her back through the house. He bid Obadiah a brief farewell, and left in the company of his security team, climbing into the small royal carriage for the short trip back to the palace.