The Gypsy Queen

by Samuel Solomon

  “That’s where you come in,” Draiman said, excited. “You just make sure that they don’t close the gates. With your help, this army can march right in and set things right. It will be over in a day.”

  “Maybe less than that,” Otta said.

  “And you will be King.”

  “What’s in it for you?” Otta asked.

  “Just a bit of the King’s wealth should do. Gaining the throne will be costly for you, of course.”

  “And what of my enemies? Those loyal to the King? What would happen to them?” Otta asked, encouraging Draiman to explain everything.

  “That’s the best part! We’ll take your enemies away and sell them as slaves on the far side of the Black Sea!” Draiman laughed at the irony.

  “If we succeed,” Otta said, “I want you and the Moldavians from Kaffa to leave the kingdom of Jedikai, and never return.”

  “Certainly,” Draiman said. “We would have to. Then you will be the King who keeps your people safe. For now, just keep things going normally. I will alert you when the army is ready to move.”

  “And here I thought you were just a spy,” Otta said, sounding impressed.

  “This plan will work, and you will be a fine King,” Draiman said. “Trust me.”

  “Trust a gypsy?” Otta said, as they laughed together.

  _________________________

  The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 24- “secrets”

  Yana sat with Luba, on the flat tower roof where she had made love to Bastion. Yana had asked her to come into the city for the night, so they could be alone. Emilee and Jaelle were looking after Lyubov down in the meadows, as Yana and Luba overlooked them. Their fire roared hot, in the pit she had set up. Luba lit up two candles, and pulled out her little crystal ball.

  She set the ball into the garment she brought, a favorite scarf that Lyubov often wore. She polished it, and set it between them as they faced each other. A candle on each side, they both looked intently at the ball.

  “I will do something different tonight,” Luba said. She took the candle on her right, and dripped one drop of wax on the corner of the scarf. She set it down, and did the same thing with the other candle, on the opposite corner. She squeezed each wax drop with her fingers, and then squeezed the corners together, and set the garment back down. Yana looked closely at the ball, but only in curiosity. Luba was the only one skilled enough to do it properly. Luba lifted the ball into her lap by the waxy edges, and then looked into it, gliding her fingers across it, concentrating on old Lyubov.

  Yana looked on, as the ball seemed to dim. It seemed like it was getting darker, turning black. It frightened Yana- she had never seen that happen before- but Luba was calm as she continued. Luba’s face seemed to take on the countenance of the old woman, gentle and stern... and ageless.

  “I see secrets,” Luba said.

  “What secrets?” Yana asked, hoping not to be disruptive.

  “I don’t know what secrets,” Luba said. “There are more than one.” She continued, gliding her hands over the glassy surface.

  “Who has secrets?” Yana asked. Luba looked into the crystal patiently.

  “We are surrounded by them,” Luba said. “See how dark the crystal is?”

  “What does it mean?” Yana asked. Luba looked up, her eyes shining with darkness against the flicker of the fire.

  “These secrets are alive,” Luba said. “They are not dead and past.”

  “Are they dangerous?” Yana asked.

  “Yes.”

  Luba wrapped up the ball. She had not found what she was looking for.

  “Does Lyubov have a secret?” Yana asked, trying to understand. They had been trying to gain insight for their old friend.

  “Yes,” Luba said. “You have a secret too.” Yana hung her head.

  “Yes. I do,” she said. “Too many secrets.”

  “Tell me,” Luba said. Yana looked at the young girl who was much like a sister to her. They had traveled many a mile together.

  “I do not know if I can be queen,” Yana said. “I love Bastion, I do love that man.”

  “Being a queen is much more than just loving a man,” Luba said.

  “I left that boy here nine years ago,” Yana said. “I was in love with him even then, but there was nothing I could do. I had to go.”

  “Why?” Luba said.

  “Because he is not a gypsy,” Yana said. “He is a fine man, the best of men- but there are rules here. Structure. I don’t know if I like it.”

  “You will sacrifice, if you stay,” Luba said.

  “I have so much joy when I am with Bastion,” Yana said, “but there is a cost. A terrible cost. A price I do not think I can afford.”

  “There will be a cost to leave him, now,” Luba said.

  “Yes. It broke my heart nine years ago, and it will break nine times worse, if I left now. Nine hundred times worse.”

  “He wants you to stay,” Luba said. “He wants to keep you.”

  “Keep?” Yana said, considering it. “I cannot be kept.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “No. It is a secret, as you said. Tell me,” Yana asked her young friend, “how can I be a gypsy, and also a queen? How can I stay in a city when my heart cries out for the road?”

  “How can you leave a man you cannot live without?” Luba asked.

  “I can live without him,” Yana said. “I have these nine years.”

  “Do you want a life without him?” Luba asked. Yana thought of the lonely nights, longing for him, in their cave. She thought of the joy of making love to him there, feeling his aura, his touch, his presence.

  “No. I do not want a life without him.”

  “Here,” Luba said. “I want to see you.” Yana was reluctant, having been disturbed by the darkened crystal ball, and the secrets it alluded to. Still, she complied. Luba took the shawl Yana was wearing, the red and gold one that her friends had made for her to match Bastion’s mantle. Luba went through the same steps as before, with the drops of wax, and cradled the ball in her lap, looking into it. Yana looked on, in her endless curiosity. Her eyes grew wide, as the ball seemed to illuminate. She looked at the fire, but it wasn’t the fire. The light was inside the ball. It was beautiful, a light blue at first, then shifting to red and gold, like a chameleon blending into the colors of the shawl. Luba grew a gentle smile.

  “I see so much of you,” Luba said. “I am so glad to be your friend.”

  “You are more sister than friend,” Yana said.

  “Touch the crystal,” Luba said, not taking her eyes off it. Yana reached out and touched it, setting her palm against the side.

  “Healing,” Luba said.

  “Healing?”

  “I have never seen it so lovely,” Luba said. “I see healing.”

  “But I am healed,” Yana said, speaking of her wound.

  “You are torn, Yana. You have been torn. But healing is coming to you.” It was little comfort to Yana, who still faced every struggle that had mounted... but the sound of Luba’s voice was seductive.

  “Healing for me?” Yana asked. She wanted to hear it again.

  “Healing for you. The most beautiful I have ever seen.”

  “What about for Lyubov?” Yana said. “She is the one who needs healing.”

  “Everyone needs healing, Yana,” Luba said.

  “And everyone has secrets,” Yana responded. Yana looked out on the dark horizon, thinking. Quickly, she searched through her things, and pulled out her telescope. She pointed it in the direction she had been looking. She could see nothing but darkness amidst a campfire or two in the distance. She looked as closely as she could through the lens, but got nothing else.

  “What did you see?” Luba asked, putting away her crystal ball.

  “I thought I saw,” Yana paused, thinking. “Nothing.” She put the telescope away, and pulled her harp out from its bag.

  “May I play for you, little sister?” Yana asked. Luba smiled. Listening to Yana play her
harp was one of her favorite things. They both looked out, in the direction Yana had been looking a moment ago. The long, mournful howl of a wolf crept across Yana’s skin in chills, as they heard it. Yana closed her eyes, and dreamt herself a wolf, running where she pleased, letting out her own soulful cry, as she began to play her harp. She pulled the strings deftly, both girls getting lost in the sound. She played the strings of her own heart with every note, every vibration. The girls stayed there well into the night, listening to the sounds of nature at night, talking, laughing, and telling stories as simple gypsy girls.

  Yana wished her life was simple that night, like it used to be.

  Yana went into the King’s chambers that night, to her lover, after Luba headed back. Bastion had been drifting off to sleep, but she woke him with kisses. She dared not speak, lest she reveal her sadness. She made love to him, and opened herself to him, trying so hard to burn him into her memory. She looked upon him as his aura glimmered faintly, even in her own ecstasies. She loved Bastion deeply and dearly, and spoke her heart to him as they moved together, without a word. She let him do as he willed, and partake of her as he wished. She closed her eyes.

  She dared not look him in the eye. She knew he would see her fear.

  She was afraid of the pain. She could already feel it.

  The heartbreak of having to say goodbye.

  Again.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Yana walked the palace halls once more, trailing her fingers along the elaborate trim. Her bare feet enjoyed the cool stone beneath her, as she looked around at everything. It was remarkable that she had even set foot in this grand building, let alone finding herself betrothed to the King that ruled it. Yana tried to talk to herself silently as she went. She tried to reason why she should not stay, telling herself that her emotions could not be trusted, could not last. The only thing she had trusted in life was herself.

  She trusted Bastion... but she trusted him so much that she knew he would never leave his station as King. She could never ask such a thing of him, and dared not- for him to choose his job over her would be crushing. Bastion had said that they would not fail, when he proposed to marry her- but perhaps he had not accounted for the gypsy blood that was calling her away. It seemed he had also not accounted for the opposition from the citizens. He had tried hard to make her a hero, and bring harmony, but the harsh words they heard at the party belied his every effort.

  Bastion had said they would be invincible, but the words rang hollow as she remembered them. They might always love each other, but she could not put her hope in a fantasy. Yana hoped to speak with him after his day was finished. She hoped he would be able to convince her, and persuade her to stay. At the same time, she hoped he would let her go.

  She hoped he would not ask of her what she could not give.

  She was not able to say no to him.

  Yana found herself at the doors to the throne room. No guard was in attendance, and Bastion had business in the city. She lifted the heavy beam and let herself in. She shut the door behind her, but as she did, she heard the beam fall back into its slot. She pushed on the door, and it held fast. She was locked in! Yana knew she should not be in the throne room alone, but there she was anyway. So many damned rules, she thought. She decided to look around.

  She went to the enclave built into the wall, where the two crowns rested. She looked at them a while. The crown of the King, and the crown of the queen, side by side. They were fantastic.

  Yet, even for all their exceptional beauty, they were circles made of metal, just like shackles. The jewels could not hide their nature. They were intended for honor, not for shame, but they were bonds just the same. Yana reached in and stroked the alexandrite stones in the two crowns. She was glad she had given hers to Bastion. She was still mystified for the stone in the queen’s crown. She wanted to ask Lyubov about it.

  Yana stepped back, and ran her hands through the periwinkle. The planters were huge, and the plants were healthy. Their smell was mild and pleasant... a lowly plant, but still inviting. Many meadows she had walked, through little flowers just like these.

  The door creaked, and Yana heard the beam being lifted. Instinctively, she reacted by hiding behind the big planters. She wiggled back into them as far as she could.

  “I know, Otta!” Bastion’s voice rang out into the chamber. Otta followed him in.

  “We have obligations,” Otta said. “We cannot ignore them.” Yana heard the door shut, and tried to peek out. She could see nothing. The only voices in the room seemed to be Bastion and Otta.

  “The citizens that prosper this kingdom are upset,” Otta said, “They will undermine your Kingship if you do not win them over.”

  “And how should I win them over?” Bastion demanded. “Supplicate to them? Am I not the King?”

  “They hate the gypsies,” Otta said. “Perhaps it is time to clear out the west meadows and send them on their way.”

  “Cave in to their pressure? When I don’t agree? They will lose all respect for me. Then they will try to push me around even more. I will not have it.”

  “What would you do, then?” Otta asked.

  “I could start closing the city gates at night,” Bastion said. “Would that satisfy them?”

  “No, no,” Otta replied. “That would insult the gypsies and alarm the citizens needlessly.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about the gypsies.”

  “I care about the greatest good, King Bastion. I care about this kingdom being run properly. I care about order!” he retorted.

  “Order?!” Bastion shot back. “I can bring order by putting those pompous bastards in their place!”

  “And risk mutiny,” Otta finished.

  “How many kings have faced rebellion?” Bastion said. “All of them! I will face it, but I will not fear it!”

  “You are so much like your father,” Otta said. “So stubborn.” Otta walked closer to where Yana was hiding. The authority in Bastion’s voice was passionate to the point of intimidating. Yana’s fear of Bastion swelled as she remembered how mighty and powerful he was as Captain. His power excited her, even as it terrified her.

  “What of Yana?” Otta said. “You have caused great unrest by choosing a gypsy as your queen.”

  “Damn them! Damn the unrest! I would just as well plunge a dagger into every one of them in the dark!” Bastion raged. Yana trembled at the sound.

  “You are not a black rider anymore. You are the King. And black riders don’t ride against their own citizens.”

  “The same citizens that would undermine me for choosing the finest woman in the kingdom I could possibly choose?”

  “They do not see the choice so wisely,” Otta said.

  “Then they are fools.”

  “Fools they may be,” Otta conceded, “but they are powerful fools.” Otta was growing weary of Bastion’s refusal to listen.

  “They would not be the first powerful fools who I will have killed in their sleep,” Bastion said. “But I would rather wake them, so they know why their blood escapes them as they die.” The fury and murder in Bastion’s voice chilled Yana to the bone.

  “You would kill respected citizens of Jedikai, just to defend a gypsy woman?” Otta said.

  “She is not a ‘gypsy woman’,” Bastion said. “She is a woman. The gypsies are people, just like any other.”

  “With due respect, my good King,” Otta said, “The gypsies have a reputation for theft and mayhem, and you know it. Your queen is no exception. On top of that, she is a woman, which brings its own set of troubles. You know it. Your father knew it, too.”

  “Stop bringing my father into this!” Bastion said.

  “And what of the rumors of Yana herself?” Otta asked. “Did you not tell me that the gypsy man in the parade suggested that she was bad news?”

  “You know that flea-ridden gypsy filth holds no stock with me.”

  “Yes, well, that gypsy filth knows Yana,” Otta said. “They have some kind of hist
ory.” Bastion was furious.

  “Would you have me eject her from the city? Call everything off?” Otta did not respond, but stayed silent. His silence spoke volumes.

  “Maybe it’s you I should eject from the city, Uncle Otta!”

  “I am trying to help you, my King,” Otta said. “We must not be rash.”

  “Are you my advocate, or do you represent my enemies?” Bastion demanded.

  “I am your advocate,” Otta said. “I am loyal to the kingdom.”

  “Are you loyal to me?” Bastion asked directly.

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

  Bastion paced the throne room like a caged lion.

  “Then find a solution,” Bastion ordered.

  “I assure you, I am working on a solution,” Otta said. “Forgive me, Sire, but we are supposed to meet with Obadiah shortly.”

  “Let us be off then,” Bastion said. “He will have some insight.” They left the throne room with haste, leaving the door ajar.

  Yana sat alone, in shock.

  She made for the door, when they had gone, and looked around the throne room one more time. She expected she would not see it again. She shut the door, and the thick beam swung down into place firmly.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Yana waited in the King’s chamber, apprehensive beyond measure. Her things were gathered and packed. She desired to sneak out, sneak away, but she could not. She owed Bastion the respect to face him. She was saddened that things had fallen apart so quickly, but it was better this way. Even Draiman had said that her failure would be ruinous for the gypsies. It would be a disaster for Yana to stay, and cause Bastion to fail. He had tried to assure Yana that they would not fail. Yana at least needed to make sure that he would not, even at her own terrible cost. She was in the biggest mess of her life, without a doubt, and she wanted out of it. The evening sun had set, when Bastion finally came in.