The Untamable Rogue

by Cathy McAllister

  “Right, off you go then, Graham,” I encouraged myself.

  Carefully I searched the masonry next to my window for the thick main stem of the vine. I only needed to climb a little way because it was not far down to the balcony below. I moved one foot over the other in large sideways strides and began the descent. The vine was shaky, but it held, and soon I safely reached the balcony. Relieved, I leant against the wrought-iron balustrade.

  “OK, Graham. Now you’ve nearly done it!”

  With fresh courage I swung myself over the railing and, holding onto the railing with one hand, I reached out for a branch on the enormous walnut tree. I needed a few attempts before I was able to hold onto the branch and I then pulled it towards me. After breathing deeply once more I took the branch in both hands and let myself fall. The branch creaked as it swung down under my weight – but it did not break. When my feet were not far from the ground I let go and landed with a thud on my bottom. I put my fist into my mouth to suppress a cry of pain.

  After recovering from the impact I picked myself up and crept to the stable. It was very dark but I knew every corner of Blue Hall with my eyes closed. I knew exactly how to get to the little ladder that led to the stable boy’s room and I knew that he always put his clothes out to air at night on the window ledge next to the door. Noiselessly I crept up the steps and took the bundle of clothes.

  In the stable I climbed the ladder to the hay loft, changed my clothes hastily, and hid my women’s clothing under the loose hay. Now wearing trousers and a shirt, and with a battered hat covering my blond locks that were piled up on top of my head, I climbed down again. Unfortunately I had no cash, but in the hat I hid a few pieces of priceless jewellery that I could turn into money.

  With swift movements I saddled the stallion and lead him through the rear entrance that lead directly into a paddock. Here no one would hear the hoof-beats which they would on the cobblestones in front of the stable. I swung into the saddle and dashed away. I did not take the trouble to dismount at the gate to open it, but, without further ado, jumped over it with the horse.

  *

  “Are you really thirsty, too, my dear friend!” I asked, exhausted, patting the black stallion on his mighty neck. “I don’t think we’re being followed yet. – But still we must keep going.”

  Dawn had already broken and Uncle James would soon notice my disappearance. I wanted to make as much headway as possible. I could well imagine that he would immediately begin the hunt. I really did not want to take the risk of being caught by him.

  I looked critically at my appearance in the reflection of the water. I did not even recognise myself in the unaccustomed men’s clothing. To hide my immaculate skin I had smeared a little soot into my face, but I thought that I still looked too feminine. At close hand my disguise would definitely be spotted sooner or later. My eyes, with their long lashes, were too beautiful to be a man’s eyes.

  “Do you think anyone will see through my disguise?” I asked my horse, smoothing down my flat chest sceptically. I had bound my breasts in cloths so that they would be flat and would not show under the men’s clothing. In the over-sized trousers and with my chest flattened I did at least look, figure-wise, like a young lad. If only my face were not so feminine!

  “I think we should carry on.”

  After I had replenished my water supply I mounted the horse to continue the ride.

  For two hours I rode at a careful speed because of the bad conditions of the ground – then I left the forest and galloped across a meadow. Finally I could feel the wind on my cheeks again. The stallion was enjoying the gallop, too, bounding enthusiastically. I tickled the animal’s neck and laughed.

  “Yes, you like that, my dear friend!”

  I spurred the animal on in high spirits. The wind made my eyes water but I took no notice. I was free! Then suddenly the horse stumbled as it stepped into a hole. I flew over its head and my head landed on a stone. Intense pain exploded within my head and then everything went dark.

  Chapter 2

  29th June 1888

  The Sinti horses and their colourful waggons were moving slowly along the dusty street. The travellers were not in a hurry. Some were accompanying the convoy on foot, others were sitting on the waggons or riding on horseback. Children were running from one waggon to another, followed by big shaggy dogs that were barking excitedly. Now and then one could hear the sound of a baby crying. The clatter of the shodhooves mixed with the women’s happy chatting, the shouting from the swarm of children and the occasional shouts from the men.

  It was early in the day and they still had a long way to go. The sun was pleasantly warm at this time of day, but later it would be scorching hot and the travelling folk would set up camp somewhere in a shady spot during the hot midday period and only continue on their way in the afternoon.

  Ivo and Sergio were riding at the head of the convoy. The two brothers were the sons of Santino, the leader of the clan.

  “Look, Ivo!” Sergio suddenly shouted and pointed forward. “Someone’s lying on the side of the path.”

  Sergio spurred his horse on and galloped to the figure lying on the ground, quickly dismounting and kneeling down next to the lifeless body. With expert fingers he felt for a pulse.

  “He’s still breathing!” he shouted to his brother who had also ridden up.

  Ivo spotted the splendid stallion that was grazing a short distance away. He knew about horses and this horse was much too valuable for a rider of such poor appearance. Clearly the lad had stolen it from somewhere and could not deal this noble animal, so he had been thrown off. And rightly so. One had to know how to handle such a horse and Ivo was good with horses, as were most of the Sinti.

  “We must help him,” said Sergio.

  “Leave him there. We’ll take the horse,” said Ivo, approaching the rider-less horse. The stallion was willing to be caught and neighed happily as it was led away.

  In the meantime the others had also arrived at the accident spot and were looking with curiosity at the injured person. A big man with a lot of black hair and a matching moustache emerged from the crowd and walked up to Sergio.

  “Is he alive?” asked the man in a booming voice.

  “Yes, father. The pulse is normal. He fell onto his head, I think.” answered Sergio.

  He took the stranger’s hat off to look for a possible injury, and he froze – long, blond hair sprang from the hat.

  “A woman!” he cried in amazement, and the people came closer, curious.

  People pushed to get a good look and conjectures were made: a woman in men’s clothing riding a valuable horse – this presented them with a riddle and the Sinti loved riddles.

  “Make way! Back with you all!” barkedSantino, and the people moved back a little, reluctantly, and straight away they began to push one another about and force their way forwards once more. The leader examined the young woman and rolled her onto her back.

  An old woman climbed with amazing speed from one of the waggons and the crowd respectfully made way for her. Her eyes were blind but she moved unerringly to the person lying on the ground.

  “She is destiny. We must take her with us,” murmured the old woman decisively.

  Excited murmuring arose. They did not like to have strangers in the camp but this woman was respected by all and what she said was of great significance. She was the wise woman – a seer.

  “Whose destiny?” asked Santino indignantly, not at all happy with the situation.

  The old woman was his mother-in-law and he did have respect for her but that did not mean that he wanted to take this strange young woman with them. It would definitely cause them trouble. Who knew what this girl had been up to? It was possible that she was being hunted down.

  “I don’t know yet, but it would be bad for the clan to leave her here. The forefathers are whispering this to me: she is destiny!” answered the old woman decisively.

  Santino scratched his chin and looked sceptically at the strange young w
oman in the men’s clothing. He did not feel wholly comfortable with the situation but he did not dare contradict the old woman. More than once he had discovered that it was better to listen to what she said. In the end he sighed submissively.

  “OK then. Put her onto a waggon, then let’s move on. We want to go a bit further before midday,” he finally ordered in a surly fashion.

  Chapter 3

  Something damp and cold was touching my cheek. I threw my eyes open and looked into the face of a hairy monster.

  “Help! ” I screamed in horror. The beast’s teeth were long and pointed and just a few inches away from my face.

  “She’s awake!” sounded a pleasant male voice. “Off with you, Atoll! You can see that you’re frightening her.”

  My eyes fell on the man who had appeared in the doorway. He looked foreign, and very attractive. He seemed to be my age. His raven black hair was short apart from the long, thin ponytail on the right-hand side. The hazel eyes, framed by thick black lashes, looked at me amiably and a smile appeared on his lips as he looked at me with interest. Instinctively I returned his smile, even if a little timidly.

  I looked around, somewhat uncertainly. The hairy monster turned out to be an enormous dog with shaggy grey fur. I had already seen such dogs. It was an Irish Wolfhound.

  “Don’t be afraid. Atoll won’t hurt you. He just wanted to look at you. – We’ve all been worried. You’ve been unconscious for two days. ”

  Two days? I sat up in shock, but lay down straight away, groaning. My head ached horribly and the sudden movement had made me dizzy. There was a throbbing behind my temples and stars were dancing before my eyes.

  “Two days?” I asked in confusion.

  What could have happened? The last thing that I could remember was that I had fled from my uncle on my father’s stallion. So how in God’s name had I come here? What had happened?

  “Yes. Two days. – How are you feeling? Are you still in pain?”

  He sat down on a chair next to the bed and looked at me intensely. He seemed to be genuinely concerned.

  I held my head, groaning.

  “My head hurts. – What happened?”

  “We don’t know exactly. We found you on the side of the road two days ago. – It looked as if you’d fallen from your horse and hit your head. Grandmother Aneta took care of you. She is a wise woman and knows about medicine.”

  “Where am I? – What is the …?” I looked around the room again. “… a waggon?” I guessed.

  “Yes. This is Grandmother Aneta’s waggon. We are Sinti travellers. My name is Sergio. May I ask who you are?”

  ‘Gypsies!’ sprang into my head, and I was horrified. I had heard a lot about the travellers and it had not been at all good. People said that they were all thieves and swindlers, and sometimes murderers, too. But this man at my sick bed did not look dangerous. His features were open and friendly. I could not read any malice in his face. I did not appear to be in any immediate danger. At any rate I had not been murdered, in fact it seemed that I had been rescued. So where was this Grandmother Aneta?

  “I … my name is Elizabeth. But usually people call me Liz.”

  At least I still knew who I was. I had heard about people who had completely lost their memory and did not even remember their own name. I actually felt somewhat relieved.

  “Liz. The name suits you.”

  He looked at me pleasantly but also a little sceptically. It was clear that he did not know what to make of me. For a while he was silent, with his head slightly at an angle, as if he needed to think about my strange appearance.

  “What have been up to?” he finally asked directly.

  “Been up to?” I replied in astonishment, and looked at him blankly.

  Then I looked at the men’s clothing – my things lying tidily on a chest, and I understood what he must be thinking. No decent woman would ride around in such a get-up, and, what’s more – alone. Moreover my clothing was poor, yet my horse was of noble blood, which would be recognised immediately by a gypsy. People did say that they possessed a special intuition when it came to horses.

  “I haven’t been up to anything, if you mean theft or murder. I … I’m running away from my guardian. He wanted to force me to …” I faltered. How much should I, could I, tell him?

  “… to marry him?” he helped me along.

  I simply nodded. I felt a little uncomfortable. This Sergio was friendly, but could I really know what was going on in the minds of these uncivilised people? I had nothing with me that they could steal apart from the little bit of jewellery, if they had not already found that, as well as my horse and – my virginity.

  “He definitely won’t look for you amongst us, and besides, we don’t let anyone into the camp if we don’t want to. You’re safe here. Rest first and regain your strength. I’ll get you something to eat and drink. I must tell Santino that you’re awake. He will want to speak with you, but don’t worry – he sometimes appears to be more gruff than he really is. Anyway Grandmother Aneta is your ally and he would never dare oppose her. She could put a curse on him.”

  A curse? Yes, I had heard that gypsies sometime cursed people who then always had misfortune or even died. This Grandmother Aneta must be very powerful. Hopefully she was really on my side. I did not wish to be at odds with a witch.

  When Sergio had left I looked around the waggon. It was simply furnished, but clean and practical. Perhaps these gypsies were not as bad as people made out. I was actually a person who did not take notice of prejudices. After all, people had also spoken about me because, at twenty, I was still unmarried. It was not that there had not been suitors. It was just that something had clicked inside me and I had set my mind on only marrying for love. Fortunately my father had understood me and never really put any pressure on me. Only my mother had kept on telling me, in recent months, that it really was time for me to take a husband.

  I carefully weighed up the arguments for and against staying with the Sinti. It was impossible to carry on riding around dressed as a man. I no longer trusted my disguise. On the other hand, as a woman travelling alone, I faced many dangers. It was possibly safer to travel in the company of these people, and Sergio was right – my uncle would not find me here.

  After a while Sergio reappeared in the caravan and he brought me a roasted rabbit leg and braised wild onions with all sorts of herbs, as well as a jug of fresh water. As the smell of the food hit me I realised for the first time how hungry I was. I carefully sat up in by bed and began to eat. I did not worry about whether I was slurping or whether it was particularly unladylike to lick my fingers. I was starving and the food was delicious. I felt as if I had never in my life eaten anything as delicious as this.

  “Santino will be with you soon. If you wish, I’ll stay with you.”

  I looked up from my food. This Santino seemed to be a dangerous man. It certainly would not be bad to have someone there that I could at least trust a little. I did feel as if I could trust this young man.

  “Yes, please. I would like to have you here.” I therefore said and looked with concern at the door.

  “Don’t worry. He won’t bite you. He bears the responsibility for the clan and that’s why he has to be sure that we will not be threatened with danger because of you. Grandmother Aneta has said that you are destiny. She says that you must stay here with us, so he will take her advice to heart.”

  That consoled me a little. It seemed to me that this old woman had a lot of influence. I had become very curious about Grandmother Aneta.

  I scraped the last onions out of the bowl with the spoon and washed them down with a big gulp of water. I had hardly finished my meal when a large man with an impressive moustache appeared at the door. He looked harsh. His bushy eyebrows enhanced this impression all the more. I suddenly felt the need to disappear into thin air. He had nothing of the unpleasant and underhanded aura of my uncle – to me he looked more like a Berserker from the old Norse legends. I had read about them. His presenc
e seemed to fill the whole waggon. I felt unpleasantly small and helpless.

  “Father, this is Liz,” said Sergio.

  Father? – This was Sergio’s father? How could such a friendly man have a father like this? I was amazed. I had expected all sorts, but not this.

  Santino came closer and Sergio respectfully left the chair for him. The leader of the clan sat down and looked at me intensely, which made me anxious. His eyes seemed to be able to look right into my very soul. His expression remained unchanged. It was impossible to say what he was thinking. This man really instilled one with fear. Perhaps there was some truth in the stories about robbery, murder and rape. Sergio could be an exception, but I would not put anything passed this sinister barbarian. Santino was silent for what seemed an eternity, then he suddenly leant forward and, involuntarily, I moved back on my bed.

  “So, your name is Liz,” stated Santino. “How come you’re travelling in men’s clothing? What have you done wrong, huh?”

  I swallowed nervously and looked uncertainly at Sergio. He smiled at me encouragingly and nodded. He did not seem to be particularly concerned. Perhaps his father seemed worse than he was, I thought hopefully.

  “I’ve run away,” I began in a quiet voice.

  “What from? Or who from?” asked Santino.

  “From … from my guardian.”

  “A woman has to obey – first her parents or her guardian, and later a husband,” ranted Santino and looked at me disapprovingly.

  “And I did. But then he tried to … he wanted to force me …,” I burst into tears.

  Forgotten was the fear of this wild gypsy. What could he do to me? Nothing could be worse than what would happen to me at home.

  “Then he’s a characterless weakling. A man who can only handle a woman with violence is a weakling. A Sinti knows how to handle his women without force.” Santino asserted angrily.

  “Yes, the way you handle Mama,” Sergio interrupted, laughing, and received a witheringly look.