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Date Posted: 22:49:40 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Gypsies and Criminals - Part 4a
In reply to: KT 's message, "Gypsies and Criminals" on 22:11:54 05/03/02 Fri

Gypsies and Criminals - Part 4a
By KT
Copyright April, 2002


The next month proved to be one of trial, as water supplies dwindled. The July rainstorms had helped to fill the reservoirs, but as August passed, the drought returned, worsening day by day. The river became a shallow creek, warming until the fish began to die. Hot days were good for the grain, but when the nights didn't cool down, the crop began to suffer.

Walter and the family diligently hauled water to the field, struggling to keep the crop until harvest. It became their daily regimen. They were as possessed, working with a vengeance to save what they had left. The fire had decimated nearly a third of the crop... It was going to be a hard winter.

Jason and Walter hunted, and the women preserved the meat with salt, storing it in bags they made from sheep skins. Nuts and berries, usually so plentiful, were falling prematurely, the lack of water preventing them from maturing and ripening. Jule and Nikita gleaned what they could, and dried and stored them as well. Each perrson knew that the land had to be shared, that nature provided enough for man and beast alike.

Yes, the drought was hard on everyone. Nikita, exhausted as she was, still made her daily trek to the mountaintop to renew her spirit in that rare atmosphere. She would sit on her rock and lift her face to the sky to talk to the fairies about her dreams. Their cloud carriages often passed by, but never stopped, the wind forcing them to stay high above her. Only their faint laughter rained down from the skies.

It was here, and only here, that she could be alone, surveying the countryside, watching for the gypsy caravan. It was here that she pondered the recurring visions of the gypsies, and tried to understand them. The images of the man, woman, and child had become so real inside her head that she began to believe that they did indeed exist somewhere. She could only imagine their names and the things that had happened to make them so melancholy.

Sometimes, she would sit and weep for the difficulties and hardships her family faced, and the little people would take pity on her and send their songs to comfort her. But the wind would always come and sweep them off. Nikita could swear it was mocking her. She could feel its fingers catch the fabric of her clothing, and play with her hair. She could hear its voice roaring in her ears, and would run down the rocky path until the calm of the valley soothed the wildness of the mountaintop.

* * * * * * * *

Everyone congregated in the hut for the noonday meal, and for respite from the heat of the sun. Robie put forth bread, goat cheese, and olives, and some of the wine she made from the wild grapes. Those at least were abundant, and would make a good store for the year to come.

"Will we be taking the sheep's wool soon, Grandfather?" Nikita asked, thankful for the food and rest.

"Yes, child. We should be able to gather enough for ourselves and to perhaps barter for food, it things get bad this winter."

"There will be much spinning and dyeing to do," Robie reminded her daughters.

Walter wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he knew he had to protect the family. Trade was possible, if he and Jason were willing to travel. It meant leaving the women alone, but rarely were there criminals about in their part of the country. Gypsies sometimes passed by, looking to trade, but not often. This winter, their wool could be bartered for provisions.

Jule was quiet, secretly scared about the future, Nikita's words about leaving still fresh in her mind. Not only would she miss her, but now she realized that if Nikita did leave, she would have to do the work of two. Anger, and the prospect of life being even lonelier without their companionship, rattled around inside her. She kept her fears to herself, however, as life was trying enough lately.

Robie observed Jule's troubled demeanor. "Let us hope that the late autumn will bring the rains back, and we can all take things a little easier." She put a hand on her younger daughter's shoulder, silently offering comfort. Jule looked up and tried to smile, but doubts arose, despite her efforts.

"Yes, that would be nice, but by then..." Jule's fear colored her words. "...the crops will have been harvested, and the wild foods put by, and yet we will have only just enough to see us through the snows." She felt like crying, but knew it would serve no purpose. They were all in the same predicament.

Jason's protective instincts were roused when he heard his sister's complaints. Walter had already begun to prime him for his role as chief provider, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. He was clever and inventive, like his grandfather, but was still young, still developing physically. It would be a while before he could step into Walter's shoes.

"Please, Jule, don't worry. We, that is, Walter and me, we'll take care of things." Jason never doubted that they would be able to cope with whatever befell them. Walter was always so sure of everything, so wise. "You'll see. We'll be fine."

Jule smiled at him then, proud of her little brother, her fears arrested for the moment. She looked about the circle and was suddenly glad that she was a part of this family. If they worked together, they would be able to survive anything. She leaned over and gave Jason a loving kiss.

"Yes, I believe you. We'll be fine."

They finished the meal, then rested before returning to their chores.

* * * * * * * *

September came at last, and the grain was harvested. The sun rose later and set earlier, and the morning air crackled with a crispness. Smells of dry leaves and grasses signaled the coming season. But no rains came. The river that was a creek had now become a brook, and the clouds that did come brought no rain.

This day, Nikita climbed her mountain path, finding glory in the beauty of her surroundings, always alert for the arrival of the fairies. There were no cloud carriages passing by this afternoon, but the wind was here... always here. She was convinced it blew harder here than anywhere. As she arrived at the top of the mountain, she was startled to find someone sitting on her rock. She stopped in her tracks, not sure of what to do.

A figure in black spoke without looking around. "Hello." It was a soft voice, raspy and breathy.

Nikita's first instinct was to run, but curiosity bade her stay. She walked cautiously around and came face to face with a woman of great distinction... huge eyes, deep as wells, hair black as night, and skin that was brown and smooth. The woman's hands were folded neatly on her lap, her long fingers interlaced... strong... supple.

"H-hello."

"I've been waiting for you." The woman's voice was gentle, her eyes full of kindness.

Nikita was startled at the words. "Do I... know you?"

The woman smiled faintly. "We have never... met."

"What's your name?"

"I am called Mira. Come, sit." Mira patted the place next to her on the flat rock. "There is nothing to fear."

Nikita looked doubtful, but did as Mira requested. She sat, gathering her skirts around her. When she was settled, the woman reached out and took her hands, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. After a moment, Mira's eyes flew open, wide and amazed, her brow slightly furrowed as she studied Nikita's face more intently.

"Tell me, who are your parents?"

Nikita remained silent, remembering Walter's warning about trusting strangers. The woman's hands were very warm, and she felt a tingle in her own before she pulled them free from Mira's easy grasp. She folded her hands in her lap, and spoke truthfully.

"My Grandfather Walter told me to be wary of strangers. Why should I tell you anything?"

Mira smiled, as if she knew a secret. "Your grandfather advised you well, Nikita. So I will tell you instead."

Nikita was at once suspicious. "How do you know my name?" she demanded.

Mira ignored her indignance. "You live with Robie and her children, Jule and Jason. Robie's husband was Filip and Walter is his father. Filip is gone now, but..." Mira hesitated, as if she thought better about what she was about to say.

Nikita gasped as she heard Mira describe her family, and was beginning to feel a little frightened. She stood up, walked a short distance away, then turned to face the woman. Defensive anger rose in her.

"You've been spying on us! Who are you?"

"I am a gypsy... and a teller of fortunes."

Nikita caught her breath. "A gypsy!"

Mira leaned forward in a little bow, then sat bolt upright. Her black eyes bored into Nikita's blue ones. She quite admired Nikita's protective instincts.

"I mean you and your family no harm. I have only come because you asked."

"I did not ask!"

"You did. You asked the fairies to help you decipher your dreams, and they passed your request on to me."

Nikita was astounded. Of course she had told the fairies everything, but she had no idea they were actually listening! Her curiosity was more aroused than ever.

"The fairies talk to you? But how can you hear them? I listen and listen, but only know their songs and their laughter."

Mira chortled mysteriously. "I have my ways, child."

"I am not a child." Nikita drew herself up to her full height.

Mira became serious. "No, indeed you are not. Nearly a woman grown. And quite beautiful. Now, about your dreams..."

Nikita drew a deep breath. "Do you truly know about them?"

"I do." Mira reached into a pocket hidden in her flowing skirt and produced a piece of cloth, woven of many colors and embroidered with tiny white stars. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

She held the cloth out, and Nikita moved closer, taking it from her hand. It was smooth and light, tightly woven of some incredibly fine thread, and had a sheen that reflected the sunlight.

"No. It's so unlike the coarse wool and linen we have. What is it?"

"It is called 'silk' and is woven from threads made by tiny worms."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

Nikita caressed the cloth between her palms. The fabric rustled softly as the wind ruffled it. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the worms making the threads, trying to envision the weavers. They must have very fine looms. Her eyes opened, and she handed the cloth back to Mira, who stuffed it back into its hiding place. Nikita sat next to her once more, ready to hear what she had to say.

* * * * * * * *

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Replies:

  • Gypsies and Criminals - 4b - REWRITE -- Repost Fairy, 22:50:48 05/03/02 Fri
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