Gypsy Trail

by West, Nicole Leigh

  “I think you’ve done the right thing, Margaret, her husband wouldn’t approve of any of us right now.” Dane raised a pointed brow at the housekeeper and her hands flew to her cheeks.

  “I’m not judging you, Margaret, we’re all happy here as we are. But we knew it was going to come to an end.” Dane stood and held his hand out to Claudia. “We have to face the inevitable, sweet one, and for that, there are things you need to know.”

  Somewhere, in the back of her head, Claudia had been waiting for this moment. The untold story lurking behind all the fun and hilarity and newfound warmth of family, could not, after all, remain hidden forever. But I wish it would.

  Dane led her down to the camp to his wagon. He pulled out an old, wooden chest, its ornately carved latches rusty and stiff. “These are letters from your mother, to me. You can read them, Claudia, and decide for yourself how you wish to think of us.”

  Claudia gasped. “How long have you been getting letters from her?” Claudia herself had only received four or five a year for as long as she could remember; and then they were full of nothing but frivolous society gossip she’d never understood.

  “Some from the year you were born and one a few years ago, finally telling me where to find you. My father always kept a post office box, in London. Really, it’s the only permanent address we were ever capable of. I didn’t check it for months, possibly over a year even, and that was the year of your birth. You can’t imagine how devastated I was Claudia, finding out about you and not being able to see you right away.”

  “But…I don’t understand any of this.”

  “I know. I know. It’s complicated, as life is, at times. All we can do is try and get through the hard times — and look forward to the good ones.”

  Dane hugged her, then held her at arm’s length, searching her eyes, giving her encouragement through his gaze alone.

  He left her alone in the wagon, and her hands trembled as she opened the first letter.

  September 29th, 1994

  Dane,

  Our daughter, Claudia Jane Spencer, was born on the 1st of June at two o’clock in the morning. She entered the world with her dark eyes open, quiet and curious. I shan’t bore you now with the details of my pregnancy, or my marriage. I know how much, just this news alone, will shock you.

  Suffice it to say I am not entirely miserable, I am fed, clothed and housed as befits my upbringing and as soon as I am recovered, I will enter society as the wife of a well-respected politician. I will be showered with money and fame. That is, if the constant political turmoil doesn’t destroy us all.

  I have news you will not like. Edward hated Claudia on sight. Had she been fair, she may have passed for our daughter. But she is not. She is as dark as you are dark, with huge black eyes and a head full of marvellous black hair already.

  He is furious and will not hold her; in fact, he barely even looks at her. We were hoping she would look like his child and be accepted as such. Now I know the reason I wasn’t allowed out of the country house in Yorkshire. He was waiting and keeping his options open. I almost admire his deceiving ways, he is so very clever.

  When she is of an age deemed old enough by him, she will be sent away to a family property, out of the country. Edward will provide for her food and clothing and education, with my father’s money. But she cannot be part of our lives, as our child. Edward’s career would suffer for it and we must not risk the loss of his popularity with the public.

  It is worse than that, Dane. I am not to tell you of her whereabouts. She will be kept inside until she is grown old enough to seek employment of her own, away from the eyes of London society, away from you. We will then accept her as a distant relative and ensure a decent life for her.

  Edward is full of rage. He would kill you with his bare hands if he saw you, and despite his hatred for the daughter that should have been his, he will not have her further tarnished by being in your presence, ever.

  I once loved you, Dane, but I was a child. A silly, bored child too neglected and ignored by those around me to resist your gypsy charms. I used to love watching you run from your tiny wagon at the back of the estate, excited from a night of musical shows, wanting to share it with me.

  Your family gave us laughter and loyalty. Your father gave my father faith in the human race. My family saved yours from poverty, then, you and I killed their relationship. The birth of Claudia has killed him. Tarnished his bloodline. Now she too, is to be ignored.

  I know you must think me cold, awful even in my acceptance of this. But I am what I am and you knew that also. You fell in love with someone not of your kind. Do not blame me entirely for the consequences. I write this letter simply as a courtesy, I know how you must have worried. I hope it finds you somewhere on your travels throughout the world.

  Sincerely,

  Grace Spencer

  Claudia clenched the yellowed piece of paper so tightly her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t bear to read the other one postmarked the same year. How could she do this to me? To Dane? Picking it up in both hands, she tore it to shreds, watching the words float towards the floor, never to be read again. She opened the latest one, crispy white and folded neatly.

  December 4th, 2004

  Dane,

  You must never write me at the manor or anywhere again. The luck with which I’ve intercepted your letter is truly exceptional. Had Edward found it, I would have been made to pay dearly for your desperation.

  His temper has only increased with time and you are, in his mind, his archenemy. Not only did he have to compete with you, a mere servant, for my attention as a child, he now must deal with a child you fathered. He would shoot you on sight. Or hire someone to do so. Do not take this lightly; he has the power and connections to have you killed. He is a dangerous man.

  Please bear that in mind, for I have decided to tell you where your daughter is. I have not laid eyes on her myself for many years and I find myself growing sentimental. Please do not ever tell her of her parentage; it will not help her when she must come to re-join society with our wealthy associations and their old-fashioned views on class and parentage. It will be hard enough for her when she learns the truth of what must be done. But, I suspect she already feels like an orphan, the lie should not be too terrible for her to tell.

  We must do everything we can to marry her into a decent family or obtain appropriate employment for her and if you are to see her, you must abide by this also. You cannot provide her with anything. Do not risk her future to appease your own feelings. I certainly have not.

  She is in the Czech Republic, a small town called Lednice, at one of my grandfather’s estates. You must understand that she has been kept inside and sheltered from the world, least she turn out like me; unable to resist temptation. I will not inform the caretakers there of you. You must approach the situation as you see fit.

  If you do not heed my warnings, however, you are risking your very life.

  Sincerely,

  Grace Spencer.

  Claudia swiped at the tears and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the hurt. It had been so long since she’d seen her mother; the revelations in the letters shouldn’t surprise or bother her. They wouldn’t, they can’t. She’d found her family and it didn’t include the cold hearted woman in far way England. It never had.

  Clank.

  Outside, metal crashed against metal, very near the wagon, very loud. The letter dropped from her hands, floating to the ground like a white dove’s feather, oddly contradicting the words on the page.

  “Claudia!” Brishan screamed her name. Claudia leapt from the seat, her hand resting over her pounding heart, and flung the door open to a world now dark with the onset of night.

  The air rushed by her face as black clad men ran towards the middle of the camp. She pressed herself into the shadows of the doorway, breathless as more hooded men hurtled through the trees on horseback, emptying cans of foul smelling liquid all over the grass. The hiss of matches striking sounded unnaturally
loud and flames sparked near the wheels of the caravans.

  Brishan barrelled into the wall; as if his legs had been moving so fast he couldn’t stop them without doing so. He doubled over, gasping for air and staring up at her, eyes wild and frantic as he scanned either side of the wagon. His hands gripped her waist and lifted her high. Suddenly her hair covered her face, the strands sticking to her mouth as he threw her over his shoulder and started to run.

  She pummelled her fists over his back. “No! Brishan, put me down! What’s going on? I have to help. I’m not going to the house unless you tell me where Dane is.” Her heart clenched at the thought of what her father had been through, of what Grace’s letters meant. And now this — his camp under attack. I will not lose him now.

  “Claudia, listen to me, don’t you think he’d just want you safe inside? It would kill him if anything happened to you. Shut up and calm yourself.”

  His harsh tone shocked her into stillness. She fought against the twinge of hurt, his insensitive words pricking her like barbed wire. But he’s right. What can I do? Fight the intruders with my own puny hands? She heard the gypsy women screaming, screaming as they followed Brishan’s crazy pace towards the chateau, screaming for their children to hurry, screaming back at the men frantically putting out fires with blankets.

  The screams even echoed far into the valley as families escaped through the trees with rearing horses.

  Margaret and Lenny, along with the new, burly gatekeeper, waited by the kitchen door. Brishan lowered her to the ground and told them all to hurry inside. Lenny gripped Claudia’s arm, in readiness for a fight, but the urge to fight was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by a fear so strong she felt her legs turn to led. Taking short, sharp breaths, she watched Brishan sprint back to the camp. Flames seemed to rear up around him and she slumped to the ground, clutching her stomach.

  “There’s nothing we can do now, Miss, we’ve called the authorities. You know those gypsies are the strongest bunch of people I’ve ever come across. I know they’ll be all right. I know it. Your father’s not going to leave you after all these years of trying to find you; not without a fight.” Lenny knelt beside her, gnarled old fingers timidly patting her shoulder.

  Claudia looked up at him, immediately ashamed of her outburst. “You’re right, Lenny. I am not helping them by turning into a sobbing mess.”

  “That’s more like it, Miss. Now, come into the kitchen. Me and Margaret are making food. When this is over, I dare say there’ll be many mouths to feed.”

  Lenny wasn’t wrong. Hours after the police left, and the fire had died down because there was nothing left to burn, Claudia heard shuffling footsteps outside. One by one, family by family, gypsies were ushered into the house, given warm drinks and food, and placed by the fire to recover.

  Claudia helped as many people as she could, running between hungry mouths and the back door, anxiously waiting to see the familiar shapes of Dane, Brishan and Oriana.

  She tapped her hand against the doorframe until her fingers bruised. Where are they?

  Two soot-covered children ran up to her, gripping her legs and yelling out for their mother. She took them inside by the fire, anxiously searching the faces there, waiting for one of the distraught women to show that she knew the lost babies. They couldn’t have been more than four years old. She sank to the ground, pulling the warm little bodies into her own.

  She must have fallen asleep; it was silent now as she lay alongside exhausted bodies strewn across the floor. The children, now perched on her lap, breathed softly and the fire had burnt itself down to crackling embers.

  She placed their little heads on a rug and walked quietly to the kitchen door. The smell of fire singed her nose and smoke lingered in the air, its thick tendrils weaving towards the sky. Silhouetted against the ruined campsite, Brishan and Dane rested their heads on their knees, facing each other and talking in low, mumbled tones. Claudia ran to them, stumbling on her feet, knocking over a misplaced, ceramic bowl so that it rolled along the cement with a deafening clang.

  Dane turned, his head swivelling almost too quick on his neck. Soot covered his cheeks and long tear marks wove through the blackness. Brishan stood, stretching his body as if it would barely obey the instruction to walk. He knelt at her feet, grasping her hips and pushing his face into her stomach. She wove her hands into his long, matted hair and stared over his head at her father.

  “She’s gone, Claudia. Oriana. She’s gone.” Dane’s voice, husky and deep, sliced through the thick air.

  Claudia felt her chest constrict. “But…but Selina and Eamon are inside, they said she was with you,” Claudia said, standing dumbly now with her mouth open.

  “She was. Until I started putting out fires. Seconds, Claudia, I only took my eyes from her for seconds.” Dane stared absently towards the forest. “I can only think…someone…” His voice cracked and he put his head to his knees.

  Brishan stood, looking into her eyes, brushing her hair from her face. “We think she’s been taken by the raiders. There were rumours, in town, of groups searching the borders, kidnapping women to sell into prostitution in Russia and Germany. And then, there are always those whose aim in life is to rid society of the Romany — and there are many of the old blood among us.” Brishan’s voice, hard and cold, was at odds with the tears streaming down his face.

  “Oh my God. But why? I don’t understand.” Claudia rushed to Dane’s side, reaching for his hand.

  He pulled it away sharply. “It’s the way of humanity sometimes, Claudia, discriminating against those they don’t understand. This is not the first time we’ve been targeted and it won’t be the last. I’m sorry, Claudia, sorry this has happened to you. To all of us.” He caught her hand in his own, his face softening with the touch. “I have to find Oriana. Can you take me to your horse? Now, even in the dark? Many of the attackers came by horseback, through the forests. Cars are too easily traced.” He seemed to speak to himself for a moment, but when he looked back at her, pure agony poured from his eyes. “I need to follow their path.”

  Claudia felt desperate to help, but desperate to make him stay, safe with her, at the same time. She took a deep breath, knowing instinctively what she must do and what she might sacrifice in doing it. The neighbouring property wasn’t far away, she was sure she could find it in the dark. They could sneak into the stable and take the horse. Of course they could.

  She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  They ran through the night, side by side, breath mingling with the cold air in puffs of white. Brishan held her hand, pulling her with him, helping her when she stumbled. The paddocks were obstacle courses of felled trees, ditches and sharp rocks, reaching out to stab her shins and pierce her shoes. She focused on the shoes, forcing the panic away, concentrating on her steps so she didn’t slow them down.

  The neighbouring mansion and stables were silent and dark. They edged around the wooden building, towards the great Kladruber, calm and peaceful in his stall. Dane stared at the horse, the one she’d sat on for months as she was led in quiet circles around the garden. He whispered in its ear, leading it out with tenderness as Brishan came forward with a rope halter and lead rein. They began to retrace their steps to the chateau, the Kladruber showing the whites of his eyes and prancing with his head held high.

  “Shh. There, there, my powerful friend.” Dane stopped, speaking again in soft, smooth tones. He rubbed the indentations above the horse’s eyes with his thumbs and, in moments, the large eyes stilled, the Roman nose-shaped head lowered, and they could walk again.

  Claudia rushed ahead, into the kitchen, gathering supplies for Dane; some clean clothes and any food she could shove into a backpack. Holding her breath now, she hurried outside. Dane stood in the moonlight, horse by his side. The acrid smell of burning rubber filled the air, there were still tyres alight. Claudia fought back tears and handed him the bag, wanting to beg him to stay, but knowing his heart shattered with each second lost.

  Dane s
tared at her, buzzing with energy now as he prepared for the journey. “I promise I’ll be back, sweet one. Be strong. Believe that all will be well.” He looked down, tugging on the rein to steady the eager Kladruber. “I saw some of the men ride down into the valley, towards Mikulov. I’ll search there first, in the surrounding properties. If I’m too late, I’ll find their trail and hunt them down, whatever country they’ve taken her to.” Again, he seemed to speak to himself.

  He touched her cheek. “I truly didn’t think the need to leave you again would come. But there’ll be lessons for us all to learn, there always is.” He hugged her to him, so tightly her ribs threatened to break.

  Finally, he released her, holding her at arm’s length and letting her see the pain in his eyes. For the first time, Claudia noticed the deep crevice between his brows, the lines crossing his forehead and the grey stubble scattered over his jaw. He spoke no more words, but pulled Brishan to him, gripping him around the shoulders, before turning towards the horse. The Kladruber waited, snorting and swishing his tail.

  Dane mounted without sound. He didn’t look back as he raced towards the forest.

  Brishan, holding her hand again, tugged her inside. Selina and Eamon stood by the door, the Irish man holding his wife as she sobbed. Brishan lifted Claudia’s hand to his mouth to kiss her fingers, letting them go one by one as he moved closer to his parents. They enfolded him in their arms, relieved tears mixing with their panic. Claudia was out of her depth, trying so desperately to help but feeling too inexperienced to know how, almost collapsing with the pain of watching Dane ride away.

  She heard a man clear his throat. Lenny stood in front of her, tears pooling in his eyes. Claudia covered her mouth with both hands…she didn’t dare shout out.

  Lenny’s scrawny arms encircled her, camphor ointment from somewhere beneath his flannelette shirt hit her nose and she sank into his comforting embrace.

  He stroked her hair and led her out to the front garden, to the swinging chair near the lavender bush, just as the sun peeked over the horizon. After a short while, Brishan took his place and the old man walked inside, head bowed with tiredness, ready to feed the lost and lonely people waking from a real nightmare.