Gene of Isis mt-1

by Traci Harding

  ‘You look like you could use this.’

  I discovered Cingar was standing beside me, holding out a goblet of wine. ‘I don’t drink,’ I declined, as I had every other time wine had been on offer.

  ‘Sometimes it is best.’ Cingar sat, and offered it to me again.

  I felt as bad as ever I had and I knew a good cup of hot broth would serve me better. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I accepted the goblet from him and took a sip. The red fluid warmed my frosty mood a little and I managed to smile.

  ‘My grandmother has said something to upset you?’ Cingar suggested—I assumed he’d seen us talking.

  I shook my head, afraid to speak, lest I dissolve into tears again. Another sip of wine calmed my erratic emotions and I found my voice. ‘I have a confession to make.’

  ‘To me?’ Cingar was surprised and unsure.

  ‘My real name is Mrs Ashlee Devere.’

  ‘You’re married!’ I heard the devastation in his voice, and yet he had a glimmer of hope that perhaps my husband was deceased. ‘Where is your husband now?’

  ‘In hot pursuit of us, most likely,’ I said in all truthfulness. ‘The Duc de Guise promised to stall him in Orleans as long as he could, but my husband will not be deceived long.’

  ‘Why—’

  ‘Am I running from him?’ I anticipated the captain’s query. ‘Because he lied to me about something very important. Chavi seems to think I have judged him too harshly.’

  ‘Hmmm…’ Cingar was noncommittal, not wanting to say that his grandmother was seldom wrong in her soothsaying. ‘Do you love this man?’ The captain was ready to run off and slay him if I answered in the negative!

  ‘I was falling deeply in love with him before I discovered his deceit. My doubt is more along the lines of, does he really love me?’ I was annoyed when my tears began flowing. I never openly wept in front of anyone, and especially not over a man.

  The captain hugged me comfortingly—never mind his own feelings that had just been crushed by my announcement.

  I brushed away my tears and took a few more sips of wine. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner. I had fancied that you might cast Devere out of my heart…I had no idea that such a scenario would see you banished by your people.’ I looked at the captain who nodded, his expression more serious than usual.

  ‘I was ready to trade my position for a life of travel with you. We all have our fantasies, and a desire to escape a mapped-out life.’ Cingar waved away his dream and my deception. Clearly he knew as well as I did that our romance could never happen, and perhaps he was even a little relieved to have been thwarted. ‘But reality has caught up with us, it seems.’ He kissed my forehead and in those last shadows of daylight we savoured a hug that would never amount to anything more than the comfort between good friends.

  ‘I feel certain that Chavi has picked you a fine wife.’ I attempted to fill the hole that had erupted in my heart by drinking the remaining wine in my goblet.

  The captain took a deep breath and then, resigning himself to hope for the best, he released it. ‘Soon we will both be forced to confront the relationship we have been avoiding.’

  ‘But not tonight,’ I declared with relief.

  ‘No…tonight we are free!’ Cingar sprang to his feet. ‘Let us eat, drink and dance away our cares.’ He then offered me a hand, to help me up, which I accepted and accompanied him back toward the wonderful smells of food cooking.

  It was impossible not to notice that the gypsy camp had doubled in size. When we returned to camp there were twice as many people, caravans and commotion than before.

  ‘What has happened?’ I asked of the captain.

  ‘It looks as if my in-laws might have arrived.’ Cingar squeezed my hand for strength and then let it go before we got too close to the camp. ‘So much for being free this evening.’

  ‘Then your bride is also here!’ I ribbed Cingar by sounding excited and curious.

  ‘Perhaps.’ He seemed unready to face that possibility. ‘What if I hate her?’ He pulled up short, savouring his last opportunity to avoid this whole affair.

  ‘The way I see it…if Chavi is as good a psychic as I credit her to be, then surely neither of us has anything to worry about.’ Did I believe what I was telling him? It didn’t matter. Cingar needed some positive persuasion and it seemed to work.

  ‘An excellent point, Mrs Devere,’ he smiled, appreciatively. ‘Wish me luck.’ He headed into the turbulence that had erupted in his absence.

  I need not have worried about breaking Cingar’s heart. Not an hour after I had broken the news of my marital status to him, he was romancing one of the new arrivals through his heart-capturing talent on the violin. Unfortunately, the girl who had captured his interest was not the captain’s intended—his bride would be arriving on the morrow, once her parents and Chavi had settled on a price for her.

  The woman who had our good captain so enchanted was the younger sister of his bride and her name was Jessenia.

  Even though a female, I could appreciate the beauty of this woman: she was strong and independent, chaste and level-headed. She was doing a marvellous job of appearing to be unimpressed with Cingar’s grandstanding, but I could see how her heart centre flushed with pink light and sparkled at his attentions. It was clear to me that Chavi had a whole new problem on her hands.

  On the subject of new problems, it seemed I had one of my own the next morning when I awoke. My head was pounding and for a moment I had no idea where I was or what I was doing there. ‘Oooh…ouch…’

  Let me congratulate you on your first hangover.

  It was Albray who spoke and yet his voice was very faint, as if he was a vast distance away. I rolled over onto my back to look for him. ‘Albray? Where are you?’

  I’m right in front of you.

  My eyelids really didn’t want to venture too far apart, but I strained the burning eyeballs beneath. All I saw was the inside of the caravan. ‘What am I thinking?’ I saw Albray with my third eye, not my physical eyes, and closing my eyelids to focus my inner eye I perceived my knight, arms folded, staring down at me, unimpressed. ‘You’re very faint,’ I observed.

  I’m not the one who is vague today, he lectured. Please do me the courtesy of removing the stone from your person, so 1 do not have to tolerate YOUR splitting headache.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ I felt guilt and remorse for having drunk so much last night. Watching Cingar romance another, and feeling nothing but happiness for him, had made me feel all the more that Devere had got the better of me again—I still loved him. I slid the stone’s chain from around my left wrist.

  And as I can be of little use to you at present, you may as well dismiss me until you’re feeling more yourself.

  ‘You’re angry with me.’ I hadn’t played the reprimanded child for some time.

  Yes, I am angry with you . .. the caravan is at leisure today. We could have finally had some time to work on your tuition, but no, you had to go and drown your senses in alcohol!

  ‘And you have never done that, I suppose?’ I mumbled in my own defence.

  Albray got down off his high horse and sighed. I just hate to see you make the same mistakes I did.

  ‘Then why didn’t you say something last night?’ My query sparked another. ‘Where were you last night?’

  Scouting, he said.

  ‘Scouting for what?’

  For whom, rather.

  ‘For Devere?’

  Albray gave a vague nod.

  ‘And did you find him?’

  Albray shook his head, but I felt that he was either lying or not telling me the whole truth. Still, he had asked me not to handle the stone, so I couldn’t psychically check—not that my psychic senses were up to the challenge this morning anyway.

  There was a knock on my caravan door. ‘Miss Winston. Are you awake?’

  It was Cingar.

  I looked at Albray who rolled his eyes and again requested to be dismissed.

  I
obliged my knight ahead of opening the door.

  The sun was blinding. I had never known sunlight to be painful. I eventually focused on Cingar, and noted his dejected expression. ‘Is something the matter, captain?’

  ‘I am in love,’ he announced, as if it were the end of the world.

  ‘Jessenia?’ I took a guess, which Cingar confirmed with a grave nod.

  ‘What am I to do?’ he appealed. ‘You must help me.’

  ‘But what can I do?’ I raised a hand to support my throbbing head and shield my eyes from the light.

  ‘You must help me convince my grandmother that she has brought me the wrong sister,’ he said, knowing he had little chance of accomplishing the feat himself.

  ‘How can you know that Chavi is wrong, when you are yet to meet your bride?’ I attempted to reason with him.

  ‘No! It is not possible that I could feel this way for another,’ he insisted passionately. ‘I know you must think me fickle, but I swear to you, I have never felt such fire for a woman that I should wish to forsake all others for the honour of having her for the rest of my days!’

  ‘Shhh!’ I urged him to keep his voice down for the sake of his own cause and my sore head. ‘Why do you think Chavi will listen to me?’

  ‘She has listened to you before,’ he said.

  ‘Only because I had the backing of one of your ancestors,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Could we not seek her advice?’ Cingar suggested, rather excited by the prospect.

  ‘Not as long as I have this headache,’ I advised him.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ Cingar obviously felt responsible. ‘I shall have one of the women fix you an infusion.’

  ‘No alcohol,’ I stipulated.

  ‘I promise.’ Cingar rushed off to see to my needs.

  The remedy proved worse than the ailment. The infusion smelt very uninviting and had a gritty texture and fiery taste! As soon as the brew hit my stomach I ran into the nearby cluster of trees to empty its contents several times over.

  ‘Oh, my,’ I uttered, breathless, as I staggered back to my caravan to wash my face in the tub of cold water there. ‘Well, that’s one way of getting the impurities out of my body.’

  Cingar handed me a cloth with which to wipe my face. ‘Now you must drink this jug of water,’ he prescribed, pouring me a goblet.

  In England, the water would be more lethal than the alcohol, but the gypsies boiled their drinking water, claiming the heat killed any impurities. This had been my reasoning for a good part of my life. The theory explained why broth, herbal infusions and tea made for safe drinking.

  After I had consumed all the water, some bread and fresh fruit I felt distinctly better, although still somewhat seedy.

  I instructed Cingar to wait outside while I spoke to Chiara, as I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position.

  Upon my summons the old gypsy witch appeared and proceeded to thank me in several different languages for the deliverance of her menfolk from prison in Orleans. But when I asked her if she was aware why I had summoned her today, she just chuckled and nodded.

  ‘Do you have any advice for the captain?’

  Chavi is wise. Tell him to trust her judgement.

  ‘But he claims to be in love with Jessenia,’ I said on his behalf. ‘Does his own judgement stand for nothing?’

  It is the breeding that attracts him, the blood that runs in the veins of the family into which he is to marry.

  ‘The genetic makeup of the sisters is bound to be similar.’ I followed her reasoning. ‘So, are you saying that Cingar is lusting after Jessenia only because he recognises his future wife in her?’

  Exactly!

  Terrific! I thought. ‘How am I going to explain that to the captain?’

  I exited my caravan to find Cingar and Chavi fervently debating the issue in question.

  ‘You nearly brought us all to ruin trying to avoid your responsibilities.’ Chavi was waving a finger at her grandson. ‘Time to grow up, Cingar, and stop seeking excuses—’

  ‘Jessenia is not an excuse!’ The captain dropped on one knee before his grandmother, so that she might see his sincerity. ‘I love her.’

  ‘Bah!’ Chavi waved off his declaration. ‘You have known her less than a day. By tonight, the woman I have chosen will hold your heart and none shall ever replace her. I have foreseen it.’

  ‘I don’t care what you have foreseen!’ Cingar was on his feet again and fuming. ‘This time, Chavi, you are wrong.’ Cingar spotted me and sought to enlist my support. ‘Tell her, Miss Winston.’

  I really wanted to support his claim, but could not. ‘Chiara agreed with Chavi, captain. I’m sorry.’

  The look of betrayal on his face broke my heart. ‘Are even the spirits against me?’ Cingar stormed off into his caravan and slammed the door closed.

  Chavi was chuckling at his reaction.

  ‘Young people these days, no trust,’ she uttered in an aside to me, then moved off to see how the wedding preparations were going in the camp next door to ours. ‘Ah!’ She noted the incoming caravan. ‘This will be the bride now. Miss Winston, would you inform my brooding grandson that his presence is required?’ Chavi joined the rest of her family who were eager to meet the new lady who was arriving in the camp next door.

  When I knocked on the captain’s door, he exited carrying a bundle. ‘I’m going to leave,’ he stated. ‘I am tired of having a deluded old woman run my life.’

  ‘Don’t be childish.’ I grabbed the bundle from him and cast it back into his caravan. ‘Of course you’re not! Too many people are depending on you.’

  ‘Don’t you start!’ he protested.

  ‘Look. I think that you owe it to Chavi to at least meet your bride. If you don’t like her then…then you can run away.’ The captain was very reluctant, and I could completely sympathise with his frustration and fear. ‘If you still feel the same way after you meet your bride, then I shall do all within my power to help convince Chavi of her mistake.’

  Cingar smiled as he resigned himself to the agreement. ‘I would very much like to kiss you, Miss Winston.’

  I shook my head. ‘I refuse to allow you to land yourself in trouble at this late stage of the game.’ I rose up onto my toes and kissed his cheek. ‘I wish you peace, love, prosperity and happiness, Cingar, for it is surely what you deserve.’

  ‘Stay by me, please,’ he asked, casting his eyes past our deserted camp to the next.

  ‘As long as need be,’ I replied, accompanying the captain to meet his destiny.

  Both clans were gathered around one of the caravans, and Cingar was cheered by the gathering as he made his appearance. He forced a smile of greeting and was courteous to all his well-wishers.

  The captain went to stand next to Chavi, who introduced him to his prospective father-in-law and mother-in-law, Beval and Carmen, who had been closeted with Chavi all of the previous evening.

  ‘Where is Jessenia?’ Cingar wondered why she was not present.

  ‘We did not think it appropriate that she attend,’ her father replied sternly. Obviously, Jessenia had also protested to the marriage of Cingar to her sister and I felt for them both.

  ‘Time to introduce you to your truly intended.’ Beval directed Cingar’s attention to the closed door of the bridal caravan, whereupon the gathering all began chanting for the bride’s presence.

  The caravan door was flung open and in the doorway stood a plump girl who bore no resemblance to Jessenia whatsoever. She waved at Cingar, smiling sweetly, while the captain looked at his grandmother, horrified. ‘Please,’ he muttered aside to her, ‘you are joking?’

  The bride’s father caught the comment and his face went red in rage before he burst out laughing, as did all the new arrivals and Chavi. ‘Yes, it is a joke.’ Beval slapped his son-in-law’s arm to reassure him, then turned the captain’s head with his hand so that Cingar could note that Jessenia followed the first maiden from the bridal caravan.

  ‘I don’t understand?
’ Cingar was bemused. ‘Are your daughters twins?’

  ‘We have only one daughter, Cingar,’ Beval placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder to express his sincerity, ‘and she has set her heart on you.’

  When Cingar looked at Jessenia and her smile and nod allayed all his fears, my eyes flooded with tears of happiness for them both.

  ‘What did I say?’ Chavi posed to me, as Cingar kissed his intended.

  ‘You are so cruel.’ I voiced my view of her game.

  ‘Not so,’ she defended. ‘I just know my grandson…he will never commit to anything that he does not feel was his own idea.’

  ‘So,’ Beval asked the young couple, ‘shall there be a wedding here tomorrow?’

  The confirmation of the event was unanimous! FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE

  We befriended and bribed many officials between Orleans and Marseilles in order to finally track down the gypsy caravan that we suspected Ashlee was travelling with.

  We had our carriage stop some way from the gypsy camp, behind a cluster of trees, where we contemplated our next move.

  Lord Devere was all for riding straight up to the camp and confronting our dear sister with the truth.

  ‘If she doesn’t see us coming and run off again,’ Mr Devere argued. ‘It has taken so long to find her I don’t want to scare her off before I get a chance to explain myself.’

  ‘Could I make a suggestion?’

  The Devere men had drawn pistols and taken aim before I had even spotted the gypsy fellow who stood peering in our carriage window.

  ‘Please, gentlemen,’ he smiled, warmly. ‘I am to be wed tomorrow and have no desire to die.’

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked, rather well disposed toward the handsome vagabond.

  ‘I am Cingar Choron, the captain of this band,’ he announced.

  ‘Then you know the whereabouts of Miss Ashlee Winston,’ Mr Devere stated, without lowering his pistol.