The Gypsy Queen

by Samuel Solomon

  Bastion was fuming, disappointed that the night had ended that way. Yana was furious, but ranting was not on her mind, as she leaned in to Bastion, into the curve of his body as much as she could. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “Tell me about your mother, Bastion,” Yana said gently, as they rode.

  ______________________

  The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 23- “undiscovered”

  Yana approached her caravan, amongst all the others in the meadows. She weaved and side-stepped through what had become a fairly crowded area. She had never seen so many gypsies congregate in one place. Yana had gotten word that Lyubov was sick, and wanted to go help personally. Two palace guards were assigned to accompany her outside the city. She assumed they were black riders, as well.

  Bastion had insisted that she have guards, and she had argued unsuccessfully. It troubled Yana that he was not more open to discussion of it. She did not want to have guards. She wanted to be free to visit her old friend in the meadows without discussion or permission... or guards. She understood his reasoning. She just didn’t like it.

  She was still grieved from the words they heard spoken the night before. She was annoyed that Bastion had not done anything about it. He did not defend her against them, yet he insisted on defense when she left the city walls. It would not befit a King to tangle in petty arguments, she thought, but still- it didn’t sit right, him saying nothing. It didn’t seem like much of a strategy to her.

  Bastion had told Yana very little of his mother. It did not seem that he knew much of her himself. It was remarkable that he showed so much heart, for a man of his position. He tried to say that it was Yana herself that planted it, when she saved him that first night... but it seemed something more than that.

  Yana greeted and welcomed all the gypsy folk who hailed her, having seen Yana accept the King’s proposal. A gypsy queen was big news, and everyone was eager to offer congratulations. It slowed her progress terribly as she made her way. After countless delays and well-wishes, Yana came upon her own wagon, and Lyubov. Luba, her young protégé, attended her, and greeted Yana warmly.

  “She has been sick for a few days,” Luba said. “She got through the Coronation, but got worse since we got back.” Yana stroked the old woman’s hair as she listened.

  “Pakvora,” Yana said to Lyubov. “Please get well.”

  “Da. Beautiful Yana. Gypsy queen.” Yana fought back tears at the sound of her voice.

  “I got everything she told me to get,” Luba said. “We are giving her the medicines she asks for, but they don’t help.”

  “Lyubov, come into the city. There is a doctor in the palace, maybe he can help,” Yana said.

  “Nyet. I don’t go there again. I die gypsy.” Those words stung, though Lyubov cannot have meant it that way.

  “You will still be a gypsy in the palace, just like me,” Yana said, frustrated. “You need help.”

  “Nyet,” Lyubov said again. “I stay here.” Even in Lyubov’s weak voice, Yana knew better than to argue. But losing Lyubov was something she could not face. She would have to keep trying. She leaned in and kissed Lyubov on her forehead. “Get well, tekla,” she said. She left her side to talk alone with Luba.

  “I will send the palace doctor out here to meet with you. You can show him what you have been doing, and tell him what seems to be wrong. Maybe he will have an idea. Get him to examine her, if Lyubov will let him.”

  “A city doctor?” Luba said. “You think Lyubov will have anything to do with a city doctor?”

  “You must do what you can, Luba,” Yana said. “Be persuasive. Find a way.”

  “You know she is the most stubborn gypsy in all these meadows,” Luba said. “I will do what I can.”

  “Have you looked into your crystal about this?” Yana asked.

  “I will look tonight but... I am afraid.”

  “You don’t have to, Luba,” Yana said. She knew very well that looking into the future can be terrifying more than comforting.

  “I will look,” Luba said. Yana hugged her tightly. “I will be out here as much as I can to help with her,” she said.

  “The others are helping too,” Luba said. “We have enough. It’s just... if she does not get better...” Yana hugged her again. Luba would need just as much support as the ailing woman.

  “We will do what we can do. She knows that we love her,” Yana said.

  “Yana... there are others sick here in the meadows. Just like Lyubov.”

  “Others? How many?”

  “A few. We don’t know why. I am trying the remedies that Lyubov taught me. Soon I will try my own ideas. I have Dimmie and Emilee out gathering some things.”

  “Your own ideas?” Yana asked. “Are you a healer?” Luba did not reply, but reached out gently and lifted Yana’s shirt, pointing at the wound she received in Kaffa. It was well healed.

  “I used my own mixture. I taught Lyubov.”

  “You taught Lyubov?” Yana said, amazed. Luba was gifted, she knew that. Yana trusted her.

  “Trust your heart,” she told Luba. “You will find the right answers.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Otta paced his office steadily. It was not a huge room, but it offered him a place to think, to meet, and to write whatever his job required, which was extensive. Parchment and scrolls were always on his desk, and a great many records were kept in the large chests against the wall. It was not far from the throne room, making it convenient for Otta to serve the King. The door rang out resounding knocks, and Otta answered it.

  “Thank you for seeing us,” the man said. Four men entered the room.

  “Welcome, citizens,” Otta said warmly. He knew his diplomacy might be wasted, but it was worth an effort.

  “Otta, we will be brief,” The first man said. “We are gravely concerned about all the gypsies in and around the city.” Otta nodded, listening.

  “We have been a big part of building this city, with trade and hard work,” the second man said. Otta concurred. He knew they were the most influential money-men outside the palace. They wanted to throw their weight around.

  “We have been getting robbed lately, and the gypsies are to blame,” the first one said.

  “The gypsies? Have any of them been caught?” Otta asked.

  “No one has seen anything yet, but we know it was them,” he answered.

  “How do you know?” Otta said.

  “Please do not insult us with childish discussion. You know the gypsies are thieves and liars,” the first man said.

  “Naturally,” Otta said, “But we cannot enforce our laws against a thief unless we catch him.”

  “I am missing two horses,” the third man complained.

  “And I have had my foodstores raided on two different nights,” the fourth one said.

  “So, have all of you suffered loss?” Otta said. They all nodded.

  “We want the gates closed at night,” the first man said.

  “You want to close the city gates in a time of peace?” Otta said. “That is not our normal protocol.”

  “These are not normal times,” the first man said. “There are more gypsies around than ever. The west meadows are supposed to be for the citizens, not for the gypsies. The King has broken faith with us in favor of those damned gypsy crooks.”

  “Be careful how you speak of the King with me,” Otta cautioned.

  “I thought we were here to speak freely,” the man said. “We know the King will not listen to these complaints because he has chosen a gypsy girl to marry.” His voice oozed with annoyance.

  “You may speak freely,” Otta said, “But remember that the King you complain of has already shown great valor for this city, and is inexperienced in these matters.”

  “We are counting on you to speak to him on our behalf,” the third man said. “He is your nephew; he will listen to you.”

  “I cannot respect a man who would marry a gypsy,” the fourth one said.

  “Even a gypsy who has fought f
or this kingdom, saved the King’s life more than once, and rescued citizens of Jedikai?” Otta retorted. None of them replied.

  “I realize that this is a difficult time, but we must be patient. I will speak to the King about the issues you have presented,” Otta said. “We must step carefully, so that we can get the result we want- the prosperity of the kingdom.”

  “We want the gates closed at night,” the first man said.

  “And you think that will solve everything?” Otta asked.

  “We would like to find out. Something must be done.”

  “If we catch horse thieves, we will hang them according to our laws,” Otta said. “We will enforce the rules and keep the peace. I will talk to the King and see if I can get him to close the gates at night until the issue passes. It may be difficult, as you know- the King does not hold the same contempt for gypsies as many of us do.”

  “We trust you,” the second man said. “We have been doing business with you in the palace for many years. We have done many favors for you.”

  “I know,” Otta said, setting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I shall remind the King of our obligations.”

  “What of this gypsy queen?” the fourth man said. “Can anything be done about her?”

  “I know of your wishes, my friends. I may not be able to dissuade the King from the woman he loves, but perhaps I can use her to our benefit.”

  “If the King does not protect us from theft, we will protect ourselves,” the second man said.

  “Please, be patient, my friends,” Otta continued. “I will make sure your interests are protected.”

  “We would prefer that you were King, Otta,” the first man said.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Yana entered the palace galley, greeting all the girls there, including Mille.

  “Are you working in the galley now?” Yana asked her.

  “I work in here sometimes,” Mille said. “It keeps me busy, and gives me time to think.” Yana needed some time to think, too. She had just asked the palace doctor to go visit Lyubov.

  “I want to help. What are we working on?” Yana asked.

  “We are about to scrub all the floors!” Mille said. “You sure you want to help?”

  “Of course I do,” Yana said with a smile. She was no stranger to hard work, and when doing so alongside friends, she found it to be good fun. Mille tossed her a brush with a laugh, and they got to work. They scrubbed and talked, as Yana let the other girls tell their stories. She didn’t want to tell the King’s business, and she wanted to get her mind off her own.

  Yana scrubbed near the pantry when a man walked in, picking at things on the counter and sampling.

  “Don’t mind me,” Otta said as he popped some berries in his mouth. Yana looked up.

  “Oh, hello, Otta,” Yana said, looking up at him.

  “Yana?” he asked, surprised. “What are you doing in here scrubbing floors?”

  “I am working with my friends,” she said. “How are you?”

  “I am about the King’s business,” Otta said. “As should you be.” Yana wiped her hair back from her face with a forearm.

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “It is not befitting a queen, to be scrubbing floors in a galley,” Otta said, frowning.

  “Even the King’s galley?” Yana said. “Isn’t that the King’s business too?”

  “There are many duties a queen may have. Scrubbing floors is not among them,” he said.

  “Well,” Yana said, “I am not a queen.”

  Otta looked at her with a face of stone.

  “Indeed,” he said, and turned and left the galley.

  Yana finished the floors in the galley, but there was very little chatter. Otta had dampened the mood, and made Yana even more troubled than she had been to begin with. They put their cleaning supplies away, and most of the girls began their work for the evening meal.

  “Don’t you worry about him,” Mille said of Otta, as they washed their hands. “He is a good man.”

  “I don’t know what to think, Mille,” Yana said. “He has been sometimes friendly, and sometimes cold.”

  “He is in a hard time,” Mille said. “He lost his brother, and now his job has many burdens.”

  “Same with Bastion,” Yana said, walking with Mille. “I think he would prefer to go back to just being the Captain, like he was.”

  “The queen bears many burdens too, Yana,” Mille said. “Just as I have made sacrifices here, so will you, when your time comes.”

  “And Otta wonders why I wanted to just scrub floors!” Yana laughed. “I never dreamed I would prefer scrubbing floors to ruling a kingdom!”

  “It is easy enough to do a job like scrubbing,” Mille said. “It is much harder to make decisions that will affect the lives of thousands, or even a decision that will get men killed.” Yana remembered her beloved Bastion as Captain. He had already been making those kinds of tough decisions. Still, he was so tender with her.

  “Mille, what do you know about Bastion’s mother?”

  “I will show you,” Mille said, leading her up a stairway, and then down a hallway Yana had not yet seen. They entered a small and simple room that had only a rocking chair, and a painting.

  “That’s her,” Mille said. Yana looked at the painting. It was a beautiful young woman, wearing the very same crown that Bastion had presented to her at the Coronation. She had eyes that seemed familiar, and the Alexandrite stone in the center of her crown was captured perfectly by the artist. Yana tried to get a feel for what the woman might have been thinking, or what she might have been like.

  “She was a good woman, I am told,” Mille said. “In fact, they say she liked to come work in the kitchen sometimes just like you did.”

  “How did she die?” Yana asked.

  “She got sick. No one was able to help her get well. She lasted a few seasons before she passed.” Yana looked around some more, noticing that the painting itself was facing out the small window in the room, directly west towards the meadows.

  “The King used to come up here alone, to sit with her,” Mille said.

  “What was her name?” Yana asked, looking again at the exquisite painting.

  “Kesali,” Mille said. Yana’s eyes widened.

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” Yana said. Mille smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Maybe.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Otta slipped through town in the late hours of the night. Cloaked in black, he moved expertly toward his destination. He creaked open the old door, and slipped inside. No one was manning the entrance, due to Otta’s own order. Into the King’s passage he went, knowing it by memory. He felt around and pushed open the wall of branches and bushes that normally concealed the outside entrance.

  He emerged into the fields north of the west meadows, and walked through the stones that were scattered everywhere to prevent tracks. He had ordered the black riders to take the night off, and they all seemed grateful for the reward, after their hard training. Otta didn’t care much for their getting rest- he just didn’t want to be spotted himself. After a good long walk through the darkness, he headed for the campfire he knew to be that of the Ursari. He shed his black cloak, and walked into the camp.

  “Oi, Draiman,” Otta called. The men all jumped in surprise; they had not heard or seen him coming.

  “Oi, my good friend,” Draiman replied in kind.

  “Sneakin’ up on us like that is a good way to get killed,” Gunari said.

  “Silence,” Otta said to Draiman’s lackey. He was in a sour mood.

  “You want to get a bite of this meat?” Draiman offered.

  “I think not. What kind of meat is it?” Otta said.

  “It’s horse meat,” Draiman said. “After your boys threw me out of the city, I had to kill something. I thought this would be more delicious than eating a black coward for supper.”

  “I suppose that horse was stolen from the city?” Otta
said.

  “All I know is, the horse was here, and caught me on a bad day. Besides, I didn’t like the way he was lookin’ at me!” Draiman said, roaring into laughter along with the rest of his tribe.

  “We better talk,” Otta said. Draiman took a swig of his drink, and got up to lead Otta into the darkness for privacy. Otta started.

  “I have ordered the men to kill you if you are spotted in the city,” he said. “You have been warned.”

  “Kill me? Why?”

  “I told you not to cause trouble. Instead, you are stealing horses, and then you walk up and provoke the King?”

  “I had to,” Draiman said. “I had things to say.”

  “Then you understand that I had to give the order for your death,” Otta replied. “I am trying to balance the situation. Your stealing horses is a problem. I have ordered you to be untouched outside the city. No harm will come to you unless you enter.”

  “No problem,” Draiman said. “I have the solution to both of our problems.”

  “Solution?” Otta stopped.

  “We are going to make you King of Jedikai,” Draiman said.

  “Me? King?” Otta said, incredulous.

  “Listen,” Draiman continued, “there is an army forming in the Lower Reach. Soon they will march on the city. We will destroy the King, but we will make you the hero that negotiated a truce with the invaders.”

  “I presume this army is from Kaffa?” Otta said.

  “Yes. Bastion brought down this terrible problem with his foolish mission. He should have been wise enough to stay in his own territory.”

  “And now he will have to pay,” Otta said, following the thought.

  “Exactly.”

  “It will never work,” Otta said. “The King will close the gates, and no siege can prevail beyond the city walls.”