by Sarah Price
He lit the lantern in the tent while Sahara shut the flap. The lantern glowed orange, creating mystical shadows that danced on the canvas walls. Sahara bent over to pick up her package from the ground, taking it to the wood trunk Nicolae had made for his new wife's belongings. She was about to set it inside when Nicolae noticed the brown wrapping. Breaking the awkward silence, he asked, “What did you buy, S'hara?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Just some material.”
He sat down on the bedding, pulling at one of his black, knee-high leather boots. With a grunt, he dropped one on the ground. He began pulling at the other boot. “I would like to see it.”
Sahara reluctantly opened the wrapping and took out the black material. She turned to show it to him, the other two materials hidden in the packaging. When Nicolae saw it, the muscles in his cheeks twitched. He reached out, snatching the black cloth from her. Confused, he looked up at her, holding it in his hand. “Black? Always the black. You are mourning something, yes?”
Sahara reached for the cloth, but Nicolae held it out of her grasp. “Give it to me. It's mine!”
“Maybe it is bad luck to wear such colors, S’hara.”
“Nicolae, I don’t believe those superstitions. Please now, let me put it away.” When he refused to give it to her, she put her hands on her hips and stared at him, angry. “I had wanted to surprise you. Now you are ruining it.”
He laughed at her, keeping it above her head. When she tried once more to grab it, he pulled her tight against his body. The material fell from his grasp to the ground. He was too strong and she couldn’t free herself. Instead, she relaxed. He rubbed her back and shoulders, his lips brushing against her neck. She could feel his erect groin against her leg. Shutting her eyes, she tried to hold back her emotions for this man. His look, his touch, even his scent infused her with heat and passion. When she tried to be angry with him or tried to deny her feelings, she found it impossible. She was overwhelmed in his presence and even more so in his embrace. It was just too easy to release herself to his control. It was also just as pleasurable to be controlled by him.
So she let him undress her and lead her to their bedding. She didn’t blush at her nakedness, even when he knelt by her side, staring down at her body. She wasn’t ashamed anymore when he touched her or when she responded to his touch. Instead, she shut her eyes and let herself disappear into his world and his soul. His touch was gentle, just barely brushing against her skin. It left her tingling and warm as she anticipated his next touch. When she heard him removing his shirt, she couldn’t hold back and reached out to touch his chest, to trace an imaginary line across his skin. His hand covered hers and he kissed her palm.
“Ah S’hara,” he murmured, releasing her to relieve himself of his remaining clothes. “What you do to me…”
The late afternoon light faded to dusk. The inside of the tent was filled with shadows. Outside, the night became alive with a different type of music. The gadjo were gone and the night belonged to the gypsies. Sahara heard Nicolae moving around the tent. Curiously, she opened one eye and saw he was dressed and ready to leave. Sitting up, she pulled the quilt around her bare chest. “Nicolae? Where are you going?”
He smiled at her, his expression soft. He reached out a hand, helping her to stand. She stood before him, naked, her body pressed against his once again. He leaned down and breathed in her hair. It smelled like the outdoors, fresh and free. He ran his hands down her back, leaving a burning trail on her skin. “The night is young, my bori. I want you to come with me, to dance and to laugh. I want the world to see your beauty in my arms. “
She leaned against him, her heart fluttering inside of her chest. A sigh escaped her lips. He cherished her. He wanted the world to see it. Part of her wanted to keep him to herself, to spend the rest of the night curled up in his arms, her body melting against his. The other part wanted to declare to the world that this was her husband and she was his wife. She wanted to please Nicolae, to see him stare at her with desire and to dance just for him.
Leaning back, she stared into his face and smiled softly, “I will dance for you, my husband. I will dance and I will laugh so that the world can see my love for you.”
The words hung between them. She hid her own surprise at having said it but, a warmth flooded through her as she realized that, indeed, she did love him. He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he lowered his mouth on hers, kissing her with a fierce passion in response to her declaration. His kiss was fiery and told her all that she needed to know. When the kiss ended, he didn’t leave her side but helped her dress, taking a moment to brush back her hair. Neither one spoke but they could both feel the intensity of the emotion between them. Indeed, the world would see their love for each other. It was a passion born from promise but solidify by fate.
It was about six months after she had arrived that they had the dance. It was a celebration of spring, a celebration of life renewed. The girl listened to the music, her heart pounding inside of her chest and her head feeling light. She wanted to dance, she realized. To dance as she had in Europe for the man…the tall man with the dark hair and soulful eyes. The man that she had noticed on the edge of the fires, especially when she noticed that he was watching her just as closely. The girl shut her eyes, returning to that night. It seemed like years ago, many years ago.
“You will join the fires tonight?” a voice asked from the shadows.
The girl turned around. She remained calm, despite being startled, as she faced her “father”. He stood before her, his hair pulled back and his shirt clean from her own hands. He handed her a bottle of liquor. Hesitantly, she took it. “I will not join the fires,” she replied but she drank from the bottle. It burned her throat. Yet, she drank more.
“You will join the fires tonight,” he repeated, only this time it was a statement, not a question. He reached out for the bottle and, as she handed it to him, she felt his hand brush against hers, just lightly, but enough to cause her heart to flutter and her eyes to jumped to his face. He stared at her, expressionless but there was a sparkle in his eyes. She could see it, despite the fading sun.
And she knew that she would be dancing once again.
Chapter Ten
The camp was unusually alive for early afternoon. Town people strolled curiously around the outskirts of the tents. They stared at the gypsies, half out of envy, half out of disgust. The freedom of the gypsies to pick up and leave at any time and go anywhere they desired, stirred strange emotions to the gadjo. As they wandered among the gypsies, the gadjo stared at the wagons, wondering how many miles and towns they carried the free spirited gypsies through. Yet, the nomadic life, although appealing in many ways, angered the gadjo. How dare these gypsies be so carefree and alive when we must be stationary and work in the fields every day? How dare they flaunt their fine horses and colorful clothing when we face poverty every year from drought or crop disease? How dare they celebrate each day anew when our only day to celebrate life and worship our Lord is Sunday?
A couple of young gypsy men performed for a small crowd, juggling torches as the town people applauded. A town girl, probably two years younger than Sahara, stood beside her father, watching one of the gypsy men with a gleam in her eye. The lean gypsy man named Waller realized he had his own special audience. He moved closer to her, aware of the older man standing protectively next to the gypsy's prey. The crowd gasped as Waller spun around between catching the torches. The torches twirled faster in the air, the flames sending thin streams of black smoke in the air. Suddenly, he threw one high in the air as he spun, quickly leaping toward the girl, catching the torch seconds before it would have hit her in the head. The girl jumped back, startled. After she realized what happened, a soft blush covered her cheeks as she moved closer to her father. Sahara smiled to herself, wondering if the girl would be enticed enough by Waller's act to return to the gypsy camp later that evening. She would not be the first young town girl who found hers
elf in the embrace of a young gypsy boy in the shadows of the wagon with only the glow of the campfires to hint at their indiscretion.
A strong hand squeezed her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. “Where have you been, S'hara?” His voice was low and his breath was warm on her neck.
Startled, Sahara jumped, accidentally stepping on Nicolae's foot. She stumbled to the side and would have fallen had not Nicolae reached out with his arm, catching her by the waist. He pulled her close. Steadying herself, Sahara pushed against his bare chest, too aware of his strong muscles under his shirt. She could smell him, the musky, sensual scent of a man who worked hard by day and loved harder by night. Nicolae clutched her thin waist tighter, causing her to gasp against his crushing strength. His dark eyes questioned her as they searched her face. “You left early this morning, yes? To where did you have to go in such a hurry?”
The jugglers caught their torches, realizing their audience's attention was elsewhere. In the past several weeks, the gypsies had grown increasingly curious about the relationship between their future Rom Baro and his gadjo-gypsy wife. It was an unusual relationship, one where the man hardly left the woman’s side. They whispered about the gadjo-gypsy’s hold over Nicolae. Had she bewitched him? The marriage between a man and woman was not based on love but on survival. This marriage was different. They wondered if that was such a good thing and whispered about how it would impact the kumpania.
“I left to bathe, Nicolae.”
He continued to hold her. “You should have awakened me. I should have been there to protect you, yes?”
She laughed. “From what?”
He did not respond but merely brushed her hair back from her face. “You must be careful, my bori. You never know what danger lurks in the shadows for such a beautiful woman.”
“The sun was out and there were no shadows, I assure you,” she teased.
The town people gathered their children around them, watching the young couple. The gypsies were a curiosity to them. Whenever a band came into their town, children played hooky from school to sneak into the camp and watched the gypsy children. Younger women flocked to the gypsies, curious to have their fortunes told. Men came at night to drink the gypsy whiskey and watch the dancing, hoping to bed one of the less reputable gypsy girls. But watching the bewitching black haired gypsy girl in the arms of the handsome gypsy man, their envy of the gypsy carefree life increased as they witnessed a passion that was vibrant and alive in a way that most had never experienced.
He waited to continue until Sahara looked at him. When she did, he reached out to stroke her cheek. The tenderness of his touch sent an unexpected chill down her spine. Gently, he pulled her closer, his one arm wrapped around her neck. “You were lucky this time, yes? Perhaps some day there will be shadows that you do not see.”
“I have enough eyes watching me,” she said lightly. “I doubt any shadows could sneak upon me.”
Much later that evening, Sahara sat obediently by Nicolae's side as they watched the dancing. Dozens of lanterns lit up the camp with a brassy glow. Standing around the edge of the camp, the town people watched the dancing. Sahara wondered where all the gadjo had come from. The night before, only a handful had visited compared to the turnout tonight, she thought. She knew Nicolae must be happy. More people meant more money. The town women would spend their money on fortunes while the men spent it on whiskey and gambling. The younger women might buy a love potion and the younger men might try to buy a girl for the night. To Sahara's surprise, when she glanced at Nicolae, there was a stern, almost angry look on his face. He was staring past the fires and dancing girls. She touched his arm, her fingers gently caressing his muscles. “You shouldn't look so deep in thought. It'll scare the gadjo away.”
Nicolae pushed her hand off his arm, jumping to his feet. “There is something wrong. I must go see. You stay here, S’hara. I sense danger.” Without waiting for her, Nicolae disappeared into the crowds.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sahara was quick to follow him. The further he raced into the crowd, the harder it was for Sahara to follow. The mass of people thickened, everyone facing where Nicolae had disappeared. Something was happening on the other side of the crowd. She could hear angry words being exchanged over the town people's murmuring. Struggling, Sahara managed to shove some people aside, cursing at them as she fought to keep up with Nicolae. One man knocked her down, his elbow smashing into her face. “Damn gypsy!” Her eyes throbbed as she gently touched it.
Getting back on her feet, Sahara glared at her attacker. His back was turned to her as he strained to see over the other people's heads. She broke through the mob, stumbling into the open. Someone grabbed her by the neck, pulling her back. She struggled, twisting her head around and recognized her captor as Emilian. His grip was tight and he blocked the people from Sahara by putting his own large body between her and the crowd. “Be still,” he hissed in her ear as she continued trying to break free. “You'll get someone killed.”
The fight left Sahara as she heard the seriousness behind his words. Her eyes shifted away from Emilian to the middle of the circle. She wondered when he had arrived. His presence had been absent for so long. But she had not dared to ask anyone. No one seemed to notice Emilian or to recognize him when he did sit in the shadows of the campfires. Instead, he was a ghost of a man that floated in and out of the kumpania, always on the periphery but, apparently, always nearby.
Nicolae stood in front of a younger gypsy man, arguing with an older town man. There was a young man, a gypsy, standing by Nicolae’s side. Hiding behind Nicolae, she thought to herself. She didn’t understand why Nicolae was standing between the two men. She could barely make out the gypsy youth’s face. Squinting in the shadows from the campfires and lanterns, Sahara recognized the man Nicolae was protecting as Waller, the dancer from early that afternoon. Looking back at the town man, she noticed the trembling girl. Wasn't she the girl Waller had performed for earlier? The girl clung to the older man, most certainly her father. Her dress was torn at the waist and bodice. There was a large gash on her cheek by her ear, dirt sticking to the blood. Sahara looked back at Locke, her eyes wide and frightened. “What did Waller do, Emilian?”
“Ssh.” Emilian ignored Sahara's question of the obvious.
The crowd gasped as the town man tried to grab Waller. “Let me at him! If you don't, I'll get the sheriff!”
Nicolae's face grew red as he exploded. Pushing the man away, he shoved Waller back. “He is gypsy! He stays with us!”
“Look what he did!” The older man grabbed for his weeping daughter as he shook his finger at Nicolae, tears falling from his own eyes. “Look what he did and call him gypsy! He's animal! Animal!” The man put his arms around his daughter.
Nicolae straightened his frame, standing his full height. He towered over the other men. “And your daughter was here at night under your watchful eye, yes?”
The point was made. A flash of anger crossed the father’s face. It was apparent that the girl had not been chaperoned. How willing was she in the act? Why had she been alone with Waller? The other town men mumbled to each other and shifted their weight, uncomfortable with the logic behind the situation. The father raised his red eyes to meet Nicolae's. “You leave me no choice!” He turned, pulling his daughter with him as he made his way toward his hysterical wife as disappeared into the darkness.
Nicolae watched as the crowd began to follow the man's example. Within minutes, all the gadjo had left. Nicolae whirled around. His face was twisted in such rage, Sahara jumped behind Emilian out of fright. Had he seen her standing there? Had he known that Emilian shielded her? That she had defied him? But his rage was directed at another. “E Martya! I will kill you for you stupidity!” His voice boomed throughout the silent camp. No one spoke as they stared at the shamed Waller, trembling before the future Rom Baro. No one flinched as Nicolae took his anger out on Waller by using his fist. A minute after the beating, Waller lay on the ground, his face bleeding as he
clutched his stomach. “Consider yourself lucky, you foolish shav!”
Sahara whispered, “What did he call him?”
Emilian glanced at her, his own face pale. “Little boy.”
Nicolae turned to the frightened gypsies. Sweat dotted his brow as he stared at their faces. A loud voice spoke behind him. “We have little time.” Without turning, he recognized the voice as his father's. Nicolae felt a trembling hand on his shoulder. “We must pack everything and be out of here at once. What you cannot pack, leave behind. They will be back soon and we must leave before then.”
Nicolae nodded. “It is true. This is too serious, this time. The people will come and they will be angry. Hurry people. We leave at once.”
Sahara turned to ask Emilian a question but he was gone, disappeared into the night once again. The rest of the gypsies hurried in different directions. Within minutes, the canvas tents were being torn down and packed in wagons. The men jerked the material off the wooden post, ripping the stakes up from the ground. The younger boys folded the canvas while the men hurried to the next tent. The married women tried to stay out of the men's way as they piled their family's belongings together. Blankets, cooking utensils, clothing, emptied lanterns. They put what they could in trunks. The younger girls lifted mattresses onto their shoulders, taking them to nearby wagons.
Sahara, recognizing the intensity of the situation, hurried to the tent she shared with Nicolae, not quite sure what she was suppose to do. Unlike Nicolae, Sahara had few belongings. Gathering an armful, she hurried outside, wondering what wagon she should put their things in. She saw a young girl anxiously awaiting an order from her mother who was too busy to notice her. Knowing the mother would never miss the girl's assistance, Sahara called out, “You! Girl!” The girl snapped her head in Sahara's direction then ran over to help her. “What is your name?”
