The Heather Moon

by King, Susan

  "I am grateful, Grandfather," she said. "You and Grandmother have always been kind to me, have always loved me. My mother would be glad to know that I have been cared for by both families."

  He looked away. "The Romany do not give up their precious children easily," he said. "When your father took you, we hoped you would return to us, not only in the summers, but someday to marry a Romanichal and stay with our band."

  She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I am not certain that is best for me," she said. "I am happy to spend time both with the Romany and with my father, as I have always done. Marriage—to anyone, Romany or Scot—would change that."

  "Life changes," he said. "Life moves, as the Romany do, from place to place. It is time, now, for you to move on. Time for you to wed." He paused. "I have decided to tell Baptiste Lallo that you will be his bride."

  Tamsin's heart plummeted. "I have not agreed to that! I do not want to wed him!"

  He held up his hand to silence her. "He would be good to you. Baptiste has lost his wife. He needs a woman to tend his fire and his children, and to give him what a man needs from a wife. And I want his guarantee that there will be no more trouble between our bands."

  Tamsin shook her head. "It is wrong to use me to buy peace for this band."

  "I decide what is right for your marriage. The Romany people have lost the goodwill of both the English and the Scottish crowns. Our bands must support one another with better loyalty."

  "I cannot do this. I will not."

  "No Romanichi refuses her elders as you do," he said sternly. "Soon you will stand in the heart circle with Baptiste and say a vow to take him as your husband. And you will go with him to his wagon. Baptiste has agreed to join his band to mine. Tchalai, I do what is best for you, and for all of us."

  "This is not best for me!"

  "Your father has given you too much freedom. You are a Romany, born among us. I let you go with Armstrong to learn your gadjo roots. I thought if you knew their ways, their language, you would be safe from the persecution our people suffer. But I always planned that you would come back to the Romany."

  "I am Scottish as well as Romany. I do not want to marry this Romanichal."

  He watched her. "Would you marry a Scot?"

  "My mother did," she said. "You allowed it."

  "That one... ran away with Archie," he said, which Tamsin knew. "But he earned my respect. He loved that one." He narrowed his eyes. "Your grandmother says you wish to wed the Scottish rya. Is this true? Has he made a marriage promise to you, as those gadjo men said last night? Is that why you refuse my wishes?"

  She looked away. "He would not want such as me."

  "Nona says he does want you. Your grandmother likes this man. I do not trust most gadjo men, but I think he is a good one, like his father. Like Archie." He frowned at her. "Do you want this man?"

  She stood silently for a long moment. She could hardly explain to her grandfather that in the last few days, she felt as if her heart had been caught fast and sure, by a simple act of fate. As if she had no control, no say in the matter, she felt drawn inexorably to William Scott. She had begun to want him with all of her foolish heart.

  "I would rather wed him than Baptiste," she said cautiously.

  John Faw rubbed at his chin, frowning. "What would your father say about this Scottish man? Does he know him? Would he approve of him as a husband?"

  "He knows him." She paused. "And he would approve."

  "Tchalai," he said thoughtfully. "I am your elder and the leader of this tribe. I will give you a choice. You may choose Baptiste, or the rya."

  She stared at him. "Choose?" she echoed.

  "You shame your grandmother and me if you refuse Baptiste and stay among us unwed. You must take a husband, and soon."

  "That is no choice. I do not want to wed anyone!"

  He threw up his hands. "I should banish you for your impudence and disobedience!"

  "Banish me?" she repeated. The Romany punishment of exile was a serious one. Although she did not believe that her grandfather meant that, she felt hurt by the suggestion.

  He sighed. "I will do that if I must. Obey me," he said. "Bring happiness to your grandparents. Marry one of these men. It is a fair offer I give you."

  She shook her head. "You do not understand—"

  "If you love this rya, then I will let you go with him." He looked down. "I will grant this in memory of your mother," he said. "She... would want your happiness."

  She knew what it cost him to say those words, and her heart went out to him for the effort. But she saw that he imposed yet another rule upon her even as he tried to be lenient.

  He looked at her. "It is time for you to settle with a home and family. Make your decision."

  Her heart pounded. She could not easily yield to such authority. She had too much of the independent spirit of which John Faw thought so little. Nor could she agree to marry either man. One was unthinkable, the other unattainable.

  "I cannot do this," she said quietly.

  "What will you do? Live in your father's stone tower? The gadjo life will not bring you happiness, for you are a wanderer in your heart, like the Romany." He looked past her. "Nona! Come here and tell the girl to listen to me!"

  Her grandmother came down the wagon steps and hurried toward them, skirts swinging, coins and chains jangling. She halted between her husband and granddaughter.

  "I have heard enough from inside the wagon," she said. "The whole camp hears this, though they look away to give us privacy!"

  "Tell her she must choose her husband," John Faw said.

  "The Scotsman wants her," Nona said. "I have seen it in his eyes. Husband, you must offer him a horse. Two horses. He has a big stone house and land, and much gold. What does Baptiste have but two crying children and a cooking fire to be tended?"

  "If she marries into the Romany, she can settle the dispute between the Faws and the Lallos," he said.

  "The rya is a good man," Nona said. "Rich and beautiful. The Romany would benefit from one of ours married to such a man."

  "Please," Tamsin said. "Leave the matter be."

  "Show me your palm, Tchalai." Nona grabbed Tamsin's right hand, spreading the palm open. "I have looked here many times, but let us look again. See, girl. Your heart line is etched and slanted—you hide a sensitive nature behind your boldness."

  Tamsin nodded. She too had examined the lines in her own palm, and knew what was there. John Faw leaned close, peering with interest at her hand while Nona spoke.

  "Ah, but love and good fortune await you... you are capable of great, deep love. See, the heart line is strong, and curves down. A caring, loving heart." She examined the tips of Tamsin's fingers. "But here, see—how much doubt you must conquer before you can find your happiness. Many lessons. If you are not ready for those tasks, the rewards of love will not come to you."

  "My fortune is to be alone. I have seen that for myself."

  Nona shook her head. "You are afraid to see the joy that is here for you. Look at this thin line"—Nona tapped the swell of flesh below Tamsin's thumb—"see how it runs alongside the life line. That is a special mark, Tchalai, the line that tells of a love that is fated to be, like a twin of your heart."

  Tamsin leaned forward. "It is faint and broken. I thought it was just a meaningless line."

  "It is faint and broken because you deny your own heart,"

  Nona said. "You insist no one wants you. But you must find this man chosen by fate to be your love. Your heart needs to find this man."

  "Chosen by fate?" Stunned, Tamsin stared at her grandmother. She had looked at her own palm often, but she had not recognized the line of a twin soul. Perhaps, as her grandmother had said, she did indeed deny her own chance for happiness.

  "Chosen by fate before you were born," Nona said. "It is plain to see, here in your hand."

  Chosen by fate. The words echoed in her mind. She fisted her left hand, thinking of the tiny cut on her wrist, and wondered again a
t its meaning in her life.

  "Good fortune can appear or disappear with the choices we make," her grandmother said. "You have a loving heart. I see marriage for you, and great happiness. But only if you make the right choice."

  "Baptiste," John Faw said.

  "The pretty Scotsman," Nona said, frowning at her husband.

  "Stop!" Tamsin shook her head.

  "Look at your other hand," Nona said, taking her left hand. Tamsin immediately placed her right hand over the left wrist. Nona tapped her left palm. "There."

  Tamsin, Nona, and John Faw all leaned forward, heads bumping together. "The right palm always differs from the left," Nona said. "Here, your left holds the qualities granted to you at your birth, and the right shows the changes you have made by your deeds and your thoughts. Look!" she said, tapping the skin.

  Tamsin looked. A line ran inside and parallel to the strong, curved line of her life. "The line is much stronger here than in your right hand. You are fated to have a deep and lasting love." She smiled. "But you must take the chance when love comes into your life." She shrugged. "Or you will have nothing."

  John Faw took Tamsin's forearm to pull her hand closer. The movement exposed the cut on her wrist. "What is this?" he asked.

  "The mark of a marriage promise!" Nona cried.

  "I—I—it was an accident," Tamsin stammered.

  "But the pretty Scotsman shares the mark. I saw it on his hand last night when I tended his wound!" Nona clapped her hands.

  "Husband, I told you! She did make a promise with the pretty rya!"

  "Why did you not tell us?" her grandfather demanded. "This is not a betrothal. This is a marriage you have made. You promised yourself to this man, and said no word to us!"

  Tamsin sighed. She leaned close and explained, as simply as she could, what had happened between her and William Scott in Musgrave's dungeon. Then she tried to explain why she had kept silent.

  "Fate has decided this marriage for you!" Nona cried. "You thought he would not want you? You thought we would not approve?" Nona grinned. "We approve!"

  "If you want him," John Faw said, "we approve."

  "But the union was an accident! We did not mean for it to happen. I was not certain it was significant."

  "It is," John Faw said. "If you do not honor this, you will bring much bad luck upon you, and him, and this entire family. You will have to undo the marriage bonds by Romany tradition also, and divorce him, if you are displeased."

  "But it was not intended by us," she said.

  "Fate has decided this marriage," John Faw said. "Such a sign cannot be ignored, or all our luck will change for the worse."

  "Your grandfather is right. Fate has chosen your love," Nona said. "The rya also has the special mark of a twin heart. I saw it! What a joyful day, a day of weddings for two couples!" Nona turned around. "Where is my grandson by marriage? Let me embrace him!"

  "No!" Tamsin pulled at her grandmother's arm. "Please—no! He does not know! You cannot tell him this!"

  "Was he asleep, or drunken? How could he not know?"

  "He does not... understand what this means," Tamsin said hesitantly. "He is not of the Romany, after all."

  "Then we will tell him!" Nona turned. "Rya!" she called.

  "No!" Tamsin cried. "You must not! Promise me you will not tell him!" William Scott would not put credence in a slip of the knife, fated or not.

  Yet her grandparents welcomed the accidental marriage as a miracle of fate. Tamsin was sure that William Scott would see it as insignificant, even a nuisance. She could not allow her grandparents to tell him. That she must do herself, and carefully.

  She looked up and saw him approach with his straightforward, confident stride. He wore his armor and helmet, and his horse stood saddled at the edge of camp. Her heart bounded within her to see him, but she turned away.

  "Promise me you will say nothing of this to him yet," she said to her grandparents. "Let me explain it to him."

  "She is undecided, I think," John Faw said. "Divorce the man properly if you think it a mistake. Then marry Baptiste, who wants you."

  "The rya wants her," Nona said. "Are you an old fool, not to see that? Go explain this to him," she told Tamsin.

  William came closer. "Are you ready to ride out, Tamsin Armstrong?" He watched her, his eyes a bright and piercing blue. She wanted to trust him when he looked at her like that, with patience and kindness in his eyes.

  "Ride out?" John Faw asked. "Will you take her to your stone house?"

  "Aye," William said. "She agreed to it once. Tamsin, did you tell them about our arrangement? The pledge?"

  "The pledge?" She stared at him, knowing exactly what he meant. She had not told her grandparents about the legal pledge arrangement, for they would not have understood that easily.

  "Ah, the pledge," John Faw said. "She told us, rya." He smiled. Tamsin nearly groaned. She knew her grandfather spoke about a wedding pledge.

  "Pledge," she croaked. "I told them, aye."

  John Faw murmured a translation to Nona, and she grinned in delight.

  "Allow me to apologize for the trouble I brought here last night," William said. "Please offer my regrets to the bride for the disturbance. I hope it brought no bad luck to anyone."

  "Unlike a gadjo to speak regrets to a Romany," John Faw said. "You owe us no apology. May good fortune be yours, rya. We will see you very soon. We will come to Rookhope and camp on your lands."

  William clasped the old man's hand. "Of course you are welcome on my property. If you are ever in need of a favor, call upon me."

  "We will. May good fortune follow you," John Faw said.

  William murmured thanks, then turned to Tamsin.

  She looked away. Fate had taken a firm hold over her life since the moment she had met William Scott. She had to go with him now. Her grandparents expected it. To see their joy at the news of her accidental marriage made her feel humble. She could not take that pleasure from them.

  A long sigh slipped from her. She would go with Scott even if she had to stay in a dungeon. Perhaps, she thought, she could beg a gentle confinement in his tower. At Musgrave's castle, he had said that he did not agree with imprisoning women. Perhaps he would just lock her in a room for two weeks. She could endure that.

  If she stayed at Rookhope Tower, she could find out what Musgrave wanted with the Romany and her father. That way, she could better safeguard them from Musgrave's black scheme.

  "I will go with you," she said.

  He tipped a brow as he looked at her. "No protests?"

  She turned away from her grandparents so that only he could hear her. "A fortnight only," she said softly.

  "You might want to stay longer," he murmured. "We dinna know what Musgrave will do after Arthur tells him what happened last night."

  She nodded. So much had happened, just now, that she could scarcely think clearly. Much more would happen before the day was done, for she had yet to explain all of this to William Scott, who would likely be rather displeased.

  She swallowed hard, and turned away to embrace her grandparents. She looked back at William. "I—I will fetch my horse and my gear," she said. "I will meet you outside the camp." He nodded.

  She spun on her heel and ran, tears stinging her eyes.

  Chapter 14

  "Some help some help my guid lord she said

  Some help pray gie tae me

  I am a leddy that's deeplie in love

  An' banish'd frae my ain kintrie."

  —Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret

  Tamsin had disappeared among the wagons. William scanned the camp quickly, but saw no sign of her. He looked at her grandparents, who watched him with odd smiles on their faces. He returned a hesitant smile, not sure what they were all so pleased about. He was glad that Tamsin seemed willing to leave with him. He had not looked forward to convincing her.

  He cleared his throat. Neither John nor Nona spoke, although the gypsy leader had fastened a deep stare on him.

&nb
sp; "Safe journey to you," John Faw finally said.

  "My thanks. I am grateful for your hospitality."

  John Faw folded both arms over his chest and bowed solemnly. "We are grateful to you, rya," he said. "Very grateful. Keep our granddaughter well and safe."

  William nodded. "Be certain of it, rya," he replied.

  John Faw leaned over to Nona and translated. She looked up at William, and he was surprised to see the sheen of tears in her onyx eyes. She chattered something to him, and turned to climb the steps of her wagon, waving a hand at him as if she wanted him to wait.

  "What did she say?" William asked John Faw.

  "She wants to give you a gift," he said. "It is fitting."

  Puzzled, William said nothing. Perhaps gypsies customarily gave gifts to strangers upon departure. He waited, and Nona returned to hand him a folded piece of green silk.

  "It is a neck scarf, such as our men wear," John Faw said. "She wants you to have it. It was given to us many years ago, when Nona and I were young, by the king of France, when we traveled through that land and performed music and dancing to entertain his royal court. They liked us well there."

  William unfolded the scarf, a rectangle of deep green silk embroidered in gold thread. The color gleamed like melted emeralds in the dawn light. "Thank you," he told Nona. An idea occurred to him. "Merci, madame," he said in French. "I am honored by this beautiful gift."

  She smiled and began to chatter to him in French. "You beautiful man," she said, grinning, "let me see my gift on you!" He took off his helmet, and she looped the green silk around his neck, knotting it loosely at his throat. Patting his arm, she seemed on the verge of tears.

  "Ah, now you look like a Romany man," she said, and grinned.

  William touched the silk folds. "I wish I had a gift to give you in return," he said.

  "You have already given us a great gift," John Faw answered in French, so Nona and William could understand him. "We will be in your debt forever. Fate has chosen you."

  William hesitated, then smiled, deciding that the Faws must be grateful for his help last night. Perhaps too they were glad that he intended to keep watch over Tamsin. Archie Armstrong had been similarly grateful to him. She must be wilder than he had thought, William mused.