CHAPTER 7

 THE CARAVAN WAS parked outside of town on a small knoll bordering the forest. Several campfires burned even though nightfall was a few hours away. Children dressed in brightly colored clothing ran helter skelter, screaming and yelling as they chased one another around the fires.

Romano looked up from his carving and laughed at their youthful exuberance. Arthritic fingers and joints prevented him from joining in the fun, but memories of his childhood brought a smile to his face. It was good to see the young free to play. There once was a time when he doubted he and his extended family had a future. Now life was good.

Glancing down at the small wooden carving in his hand, he remembered his first visit to Teraclia and what had brought him here. It was 1937 and Hitler had just declared that gypsies were no longer first-class citizens. He ordered them into concentration camps or the ghettos. Romano’s tribe was not so lucky.

In 1941, the Einsatzgruppen rounded up several of his people and marched them to the outskirts of a small village in Moldova. There the Germans lined them up beside a large ditch and shot them one by one. Men, women, children—  no one was spared. Had his mother not nagged his father to take him and his younger brother “scavenging” in a nearby town, they too would have died. News of the atrocity quickly spread to the surrounding villages.

Overhearing a conversation between two farmers, Romano’s father ordered his sons to hide in a barn on an isolated farm while he went to check on his people. When his father failed to return after two days, Romano and his brother, Ota, slipped away from the farm under the cover of darkness. At the age of ten, he was quite capable of providing for the two of them. His father had taught him that stealing was a necessary skill for gypsies and was by far easier than working for a living.

For months, they journeyed westward through the mountains, making sure to stay well hidden during the day and traveling after the sun set. The Germans were like a plague on the land, spreading and destroying everything they didn’t need. Unfortunately one evening, Romano and Ota grew careless and were caught by soldiers patrolling the area near their hiding place.

Ota had caught a cold, which developed into severe chest congestion. Breathing was difficult and frequently accompanied by a raspy cough. When the Germans heard him coughing, they sent their dogs into the rubble to flush them out. Terrified, the boys had no choice but to surrender, knowing it was a death sentence.

Then without warning, the wolves arrived. Outnumbered, the dogs backed away, whining with their tails tucked between their legs. After reaching a safe distance, they turned and ran, leaving their masters to fend for themselves. The soldiers looked around nervously. Something didn’t feel right. Not wanting to chance a possible ambush, they quickly retreated, willing to sacrifice the two boys to the pack.

Romano and Ota watched, terrified they were going to be eaten by the fierce-looking animals. Several wolves circled them, growling softly, but none approached. Huddled together, they awaited their fate. It was then that they heard a voice. It flowed over them like the warm southerly breezes in late spring.

“Allo!”

They stared into the most incredible blue eyes. Romano remembered blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Before him, crouched a few meters away, was a woman. Her long black hair was being buffeted by a strong wind. When she smiled, Romano and Ota crossed themselves and said a silent prayer of thanks for sending them this beautiful angel to save them.

“Ne rakesas tu Romanes?” she asked slowly, tilting her head.

Nodding, Romano remembered feeling relieved that she spoke Rumanian.

Motioning to the two boys to follow her, the woman stood.

“She is a giant,” Ota whispered to his older brother.

“But a beautiful one!” Romano said, feeling the first pangs of adolescent love.

Smiling faintly, she pretended she didn’t hear the remark, but Romano knew better and blushed.

“Come,” she said quietly. Romano shivered. There was something unnaturally comforting about her voice. “We must leave here quickly.”

Taking their hands, she pulled them from the rubble and away from the building. The wolves surrounded them as they disappeared into the woods. Neither Romano nor Ota feared the animals as long as the woman was with them. Once hidden by the trees, they followed a path that eventually ended at a large stone building. A wooden bridge led to the front door. Hustling them inside, an elderly woman greeted them and took their tattered coats before shooing them into a small room. Two glasses of milk and freshly baked cookies sat on a table near the fireplace.

“Sit! Eat!” she commanded, pushing them forward.

“Thank you, Sophie.” Turning to the boys, she smiled gently. “So, my young friends, what am I to do with you?”

“There’s nothing to do,” Romano said. “We take care of ourselves.”

“I see. And how do you survive?”

“We take what we need. Papa said that is the gypsy way.”

“Ah, so you are gypsies.”

“But of course,” Romano said, thumping his chest with his fist. “Can you not tell by how we look, how we dress?”

“Forgive me. I haven’t seen gypsies in this area for several years.”

“That’s because the Germans kill us,” Romano said coldly. “They kill my people. Hitler is a pig. Papa says he wants all of us dead. Ota and I, we are the last of our tribe.”

“I see. And what is your name?”

“I am Romano. What is yours?” he demanded arrogantly.

“I’m Illya.”

A knock on the door interrupted their chat.

“Come in.”

Romano knew immediately that the young girl entering the room was Illya’s daughter. Black hair and blue eyes said everything.

“Ah, Anya, please come in and meet my two young friends. Ota, Romano, this is my daughter. Anya, they are gypsies.”

“I’m the oldest,” Romano said, stepping forward and bowing slightly. “Ota is three years younger. How old are you?”

“He’s very bold, don’t you think, mama?” the girl asked, deliberately walking past him to stand next to her mother. “And lacks manners, too.”

“Be nice now. They are guests in our home.”

“If you wish, mama.” Anya turned back to Romano. “But only if he quits acting like such a pig.”

Shaking her head, Illya laughed. “Behave.”

Anya giggled and relented. “Oh. All right. Shall I show them to their room? I think they would like the one in the tower, being gypsies,” she teased.

“Thank you, dear. Afterward, you can bring them to the dining room. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

Romano never knew at what point they decided they would stay at the estate. Through the years of easy bantering, Anya, Ota, and he grew close. When she met and eventually married Vincente Lysanne, Romano was her best man, although having two best men at the wedding was awkward.

Shortly afterward, he and Ota decided to renew their gypsy ways and see the world. Perhaps with luck, they would find some of their family if any had survived the extermination. In time, they did. Soon he and Ota joined a caravan led by a distant cousin. There, he met Tania and married her after learning she was going to have his child.

Romano loved the caravan life and his people’s carefree attitude but never relinquished the close bond he had with Anya. When he heard of her pregnancy, he gathered his wife and five children and returned to Teraclia.

Anya and Vincente were thrilled and offered them the entire north wing of their home for as long as Romano wanted. The sound of laughing children and running feet brought a new closeness to the group.

Unfortunately, shortly after his arrival, Illya, who had been widowed during the war, was thrown from a horse and died a week later from head injuries. Devastated, Anya never fully recovered from the loss of her mother, although she did her best to make everyone around her comfortable and happy.

Anya’s firstborn was a girl. Vincente was ecstatic at seeing the miniature version of his wife and proudly displayed her to everyone from the top of the staircase.

“Behold!” He held up the infant with the curly black hair. “I proudly present to you my daughter, Yemaya.”

Immediately, the gypsies bellowed out a toast. Violins and tambourines played as they danced merrily through the halls and rooms.

Folding his daughter in his arms, Vincente gazed adoringly at her face. As he carried her back to her mother, he hummed a lullaby, hoping to drown out the noisy crowd below.

 It was then that Yemaya opened her eyes. Pale blue, almost the color of clear ice, they stared at the face above her for a few moments, then closed tiredly. Vincente would remember that moment for the rest of his life.

 

*  *  *

Several months later, Romano and his family decided it was time to rejoin their own family. Through the following years, he would stop in to see how Anya, Yemaya, and Vincente were doing. He missed the arrival of Anya’s second child, Raidon. When Anya was killed a few years later in the same manner as her mother, he was in Italy. It was the only time in his life he chose to fly to a destination rather than drive. Most Gypsies had progressed to automobiles, especially large vans, instead of the old covered wagons.

 

*  *  *

Shaking his head, Romano didn’t want to think any more about the past. Life moved on and so had he.

“Ola, Uncle Romano.” She sounded so much like her mother the old gypsy dropped his knife. Looking up, he saw a younger version of Anya standing in front of him.

“Yemaya,” he whispered. His throat felt tight from unshed tears.

Kneeling down just as her grandmother had done so many years before when she had saved them, Romano couldn’t help but think about how much he had loved Illya. Of course in time, he outgrew the childhood infatuation, but never the love for her as his savior and protector.

“You look just like your mama and grandmama,” he said, reaching up to touch her cheek. “I thought I was dying and their ghosts were here to take me,” he joked.

Hugging him tightly, Yemaya placed her head on his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around her warmly.

“It has been too long, Uncle,” she admonished. “I miss you and the children.”

Looking around, Romano snorted. The loud screams and shouts of the young, the playful seriousness of the adults and older children made it impossible to have any peace and quiet.

“I find that hard to believe.” He chuckled and pushed her slightly away so he could look into her eyes. “You have changed much, child.”

“I am older,” she said, her voice low and husky.

Romano shivered. So much like her grandmama, he thought again. “It’s the way of things, but that isn’t what I mean,” he said. “Enough talk for now. Come. Join me in a meal.”

Yemaya helped him to his feet, and they walked to a huge pot hanging over a large campfire. Picking up two plates, he dipped the ladle in, scooped out a large portion of stew, and poured it onto the tin dishes. Handing one to Yemaya, he sat on an old log and began eating.

“What is in this?” Yemaya asked, enjoying the savory flavor of meat, vegetables, and spices.

“A little of this, a little of that. Whatever we find lying around.”

“I see. From the taste you managed to find a few chickens and a pig lying near here.”

“Ah, yes. They were old and stringy, barely alive. We had just started the fires when they staggered into our camp and collapsed. Poor creatures. There was nothing we could do but put them out of their misery.”

“Of course.” Yemaya laughed. “What have you been doing for the past few years? You and the family disappeared.”

“We almost did,” he said solemnly.

“Almost?”

“Almost. Thankfully, the gods were with us, but it was a great adventure,” he said with a grin.

“You have me hooked. Now out with it.”

“I see you haven’t changed as much as I thought. You’re still too curious for your own good.”

“You are one to talk.”

Slapping his knee in delight, the old man laughed loudly, causing others to look in his direction.

“All right. Several years ago, Ota and I heard stories of a small group of nomads in Southeast Asia called sea gypsies. We were curious, so we decided to see if they really existed.”

“Sea gypsies? I have heard of them but thought they were a myth. Are they real?”

“Very much so, but few people know about them, at least in the rest of the world. They call themselves the Salone or Moken and travel in small boats much like we do in our caravans.”

“And they live on these boats?”

“For most of the year. They only stay on shore during the worst months, but even that doesn’t stop them from diving for their food. Some can stay underwater for several minutes. It is unbelievable. They are fearless.”

“How did you find them?”

“We wandered the coasts asking questions and searching. Finally, we found a small band in Myanmar. It took a lot of talk and bribery, but they agreed to let Ota and I join them for a few months. I think the worst part was the stench. Their boats have thatched roofs for shade and they dry all their catches on them. Phew!” he exclaimed dramatically, holding his nose.

Yemaya laughed. “Oh, it could not be that bad.”

“Worse! You can’t imagine. Still, they’re good people and their lives are hard, unlike ours,” he joked. “Saluzi and his family took me to a small village on an island to wait out the monsoons. I thought it would never stop raining. It drove Ota and me crazy.”

“I can imagine. It looks like you survived the adventure, though.”

“Barely! We were never so grateful to get back on solid land and home to our family.”

“And a warm bath, no doubt,” Yemaya teased.

“Several. It took weeks to wash off the fish smell. No one came near us. We were outcasts in our own tribe. They even burned our clothes.”

Yemaya laughed. For several moments, both sat quietly by the fire lost in thought.

“So what brings you here?” he finally asked. “It’s been a long time since you have shared a meal with us.”

“Too long! I just heard of your return a few days ago.”

“True, true. We only arrived last week. My body has grown old and lazy. Traveling is getting harder.”

“Then build your home here. There is plenty of land for you and your family.”

“I’ll think about it, but that’s not why you’re here. Is there a problem?”

“No, not really.” Yemaya said, leaning over to hug him. “But I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything. I have always served your family willingly.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Yemaya quickly outlined the conversation between her and the doctor. Listening quietly, Romano nodded but didn’t interrupt.

“Have you ever heard of anything like this during your journeys?” she asked.

“There were stories a long time ago. Papa told them to scare us when we were bad. I remember one time being so afraid I hid in mama’s old chest in our wagon. When she found me, she asked why I was there and I told her I was hiding from the drac. Mama told me there was nothing to be afraid of because her grandpapa told her the same stories when she was a girl.”

“Then you think they are only stories?”

“Who’s to say? In all legends, there’s truth. From all truths come legends. The one great truth is that evil prowls the darkness looking for the weak.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “That is why I need your help.”

“I’m yours to command, as are my people,” Romano offered, motioning to those around them.

“Would you ask everyone to keep an eye out for anything unusual and let me know if they hear or see something? We need to find who or what is attacking these young women. Gypsies hear things that most people do not.”

“I’ll pass the word to the other caravans.”

“I appreciate this,” Yemaya said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Now I must go. I need to talk to someone.”

“Perhaps you visit a young woman?” he asked hopefully.

“Perhaps,” she chuckled, standing up. “Oh, and feel free to make use of anything you find on my land, but please, no more ... umm... rescuing the local livestock. There are some who still dislike and distrust gypsies. They will use any excuse to have you arrested.”

“You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically.

“I apologize if I have misjudged you... .” Yemaya smirked, tipping her head. “But I am sure your heart will survive. Be safe and give my love to the family.”

“The gods be with you.”

Climbing into the Hummer, Yemaya waved goodbye.

“Take me to the Hotel Teraclia please, Andrei.”

Once at the hotel, she sent him back to the estate with instructions to call her with any further developments about Lia.