La Gitana

by Carol Ann

  “Carmen, there is no greater matter than Our bed chamber: let us go now.”

  “The Queen is wise and good.” And we tumbled into an endless embrace and my Queen smiled once again.

  I rode out that night to meet his carriage with Antonio in my arms. I paid the guard three sovereigns to forget he saw us leave. The carriage was black with four black stallions and the driver had a blank, pale face. The Duke had thoughtfully provided a bottle of fine wine and a fruit and cheese plate. The night was black and moonless and I felt sure we were not seen. The road was long and winding, a twisted ribbon in black nothingness, but the coach with its jumble of red velvet cushions was quite comfortable.

  I arrived at the cottage in the early morning hours and the Duke came to the door in a burgundy robe. I immediately felt right at home. His dark, obsidian eyes held my reflection and were suffused with raw, animal desire. I noticed the thick, black chest hair growing at his collar. He kissed me, pulling me close and I felt his hardness pressing against my belly.

  Then he stepped back and said, “Good, you brought the boy and he is strong and healthy in body and mind and that’s what counts.”

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  “Well, I do not totally know his mind as he does not speak but understands all I say. He writes to me when he needs to tell me something. He is really quite intelligent.

  I trace words in children’s books and I am sure he knows the stories. The first word he ever wrote was ‘vellum’ (money).”

  “Vellum. That is a good start. Already, he understands the world. What else does he do?”

  “Sketches in charcoal of mountains, rivers, trees, and people.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “They are extraordinary and very advanced for his age.”

  “I will find a doctor to tell us why he does not talk.”

  “Gracias, shall I go on calling you Duke.”

  “Call me Hijito (little son). I was the youngest in my family.”

  “I’ll call you Jito and let it be known by no one. Where may I warm up his food and milk?”

  “I’ll do it for you. You are tired. Besides I have food for him as well. I will also draw a bath for you to wash off the dust from the road.” So while the Duke fed my child I washed the dust from my body and put on an ornate night frock which showed my womanly power. His eyes traveled slowly over my body like a jeweler appraising a rare gem. The fire from the hearth cast golden lights in his dark eyes.

  He said, “You are radiant. Let us talk of our future together. I will make you the most powerful woman in the kingdom, even more powerful than the Queen. Royalty carries the patina of power but it is the hidalgos who have the true power. We have the land, the armies, the money. Even the clergy are not as influential.” 113

  “You would do that for me?”

  “I would. You are the gypsy girl who stood me down from sheer force of will. I never forgot you. Right then you had my heart. So bold and so full of hate. You will meet the aristocracy.”

  “They will spit on me because I’m a gypsy.”

  “They dare not. They know you have the ear of the King and Queen. They know you are her lover and muse. You are, after all, La Gitana.”

  “And for all that?”

  “I think you know the answer to that, my darling,” he said and brought out his sturdy, purple cock, and began masturbating. “Carmen, tell me what you and the Queen do. Leave nothing out.”

  “You find it erotic, Jito?”

  “Terrifically so. Tell me, my love.”

  “I will tell you, Jito. First we undress each other, and she lifts my hair kissing me on the back of my neck. In passion, she smells like a wet goat yet she is as delicate as a girl child. Then I kiss her nipples until they harden and gently pinch them with my fingers. Then I run my hands down to her small ass and squeeze each cheek pulling her into me. At some point she always bites me on the breasts: Marie enjoys gentle biting.

  Then we get into bed and she gets on top and rubs her body back and forth in a manner to create friction in the woman’s area. Then we turn around and I get on top and place my mouth on her woman’s flower while she does the same. I lick and suck with all my might until she screams and pulls my face deeper into her slit.

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  Jito, sometimes I come too.”

  The Duke groaned and shot a stream of semen into the air. I went over and licked it up and he rose again. I led him over to the bed and felt his hot eyes on my ass burning into me.

  “Jito, have you ever had a woman from behind?”

  “No, my wife thinks it’s bestial.”

  “It is. That’s why I’m going to give you my ass. It is my special gift to my benefactor. You will find it tighter than the front. Go easy in and don’t move at first. I am a virgin there and am your new bride.”

  Jito eased his long cock into my asshole and I lay there feeling the pain sharply.

  Then it lessened and I permitted him to move and I felt it in my woman’s part to as I was stimulating myself with my hand. Soon he was plunging in back and forth like a battering ram and my ass widened to take in every inch of him. He took a while to come and I felt what I knew was a trickle of blood and I was glad of it. My blood to my love.

  When he came his juices ran down my ass and he screamed, “My heart.” Afterward he held me in his arms like a fragile calla lily. I felt his ancient spirit collide with mine and knew he was the man of my heart. And for the first time in a long time I felt perfectly safe and perfectly loved. The silence was soft as a dove’s wing. No words came to either of us. Words cheapen love. I told him of the Queen’s displeasure and he laughed saying, “Of course, I know how to handle Marie Luisa. I’ve known her for years! She will be well pleased.” And she was.

  The Duke was a master manipulator.

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  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  My boy, Antonio, attracted the notice of the Queen. She thought his drawings exquisite and was determined to find him a mentor, to apprentice him to a master artist while he was still young, perhaps about eight years old. I despaired of him leaving me so young but as Marie said talent must be developed and nurtured. I had grown to love him and see him as my son, not the product of a rape. When I looked at him I no longer saw Benecio’s face: I saw my precious angel’s smile written on my heart.

  From when he got up in the morning until afternoon he sketched. When he finished drawing I gave him lessons in academic matters. He loved history, literature and was especially fond of mathematics. This was not surprising since the first word he ever wrote was “vellum”. He was fascinated by numbers on a page so I taught him the household accounts. When he got older I revealed the accounts of the kingdom, and he understood. Antonio was very quick in his mind. A gypsy always knows money right to the last penny. Later, after lessons, he played boy’s games with the other children. He learned fencing when he was seven and knew all the boy’s war games like any other child and he was a born leader. He was as fierce as he was sensitive. When he wanted me to know something he wrote it out and his words were not children’s words. He was not like other children in all he could understand.

  One day he wrote, “Mama, what is a gypsy?”

  I replied that we were gypsies but we lived as Spaniards.

  “Why do we not live as gypsies?”

  I told him something happened that made our people cast me out and that I had to seek refuge in the kingdom with Marie.

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  “What happened?” he wrote.

  I told him I broke gypsy law and became mahrime or unclean.

  “Why did you do it, mama?”

  I replied that I was forced to break the law and he asked if someone hurt me. I told him I was raped or forced to make love with a man and that’s how I became pregnant with him.

  “Do you hate me, mama?”

  I replied that I loved him more than anyone in my life and then he asked about his father and whether he would be like him when he grew up. I told him Benicio was a murderer, thief, a
nd rapist and that never would he be like him.

  “I am sorry for you, mama. Does anyone hurt you now?”

  I told him no one would dare to, or even think about it.

  “Tell me about gypsies, mama,” he wrote.

  I told him the following things. “Gypsies live off the land. They believe to eat, sleep, dance, make love, and drink wine is sufficient in life. A gypsy does not need a down bed, nor a castle nor jewels and riches. To be free and live day to day is enough for them.”

  “Are they like the Indians in the Americas?”

  “Somewhat so.”

  “Do gypsies worship our Lord, Christ?”

  “Not so much so. They believe in fate and destiny.”

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  “I do not understand those words and how can they not believe in Our Lord, the one true God?”

  “Antonio, you ask hard questions. Gypsies believe in St. Sara, the saint of prophesy, and they do get baptized and try to be buried in consecrated ground.”

  “What is consecrated ground?”

  I told him it was ground blessed by the church.

  “Then they do believe in God.”

  “When it suits them, Antonio, when it suits them.”

  “Are you from the devil, mama?”

  “Antonio, you must stop this questioning. You are too young to understand. I can only say people are only partly good and partly bad.”

  “So, they don’t get into heaven when they die.”

  “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Antonio, don’t ask me any more. I’ll make you a strawberry pie if you will stop!”

  Antonio broke into a big grin and his teeth looked slightly predatory.

  “Mama, I predict that you will be making lots of strawberry pies. Is that destiny?”

  That boy was my joy and my aggravation. He was too smart for my own good.

  Another day he asked me more about gypsies saying his school mates told him that gypsies steal and poison and worship the devil.

  “Did you steal and poison, mama? It is against the Ten Commandments.”

  “I did many things which I will not share with you but I will say I am no poisoner.

  The Spaniards do the same but on a grander scale. What do you think a King is when he 118

  takes foreign land in a war? Is he not a murderer and a thief? Kings and armies acquire tracts of land. A gypsy steals on a smaller scale, person to person, and it’s only to barely survive. Gypsies do not grow fat for the misfortune of entire nations. Christian nations.

  It is a question of who really worships the devil in practice. It is easy to say you love the Lord and then steal from your neighbor, or worse, and call yourself a Christian!”

  “Juannito says a gypsy can put a death curse on you and then you die. That’s murder, mama.”

  “Some people believe that, Antonio. They even believe gypsies poison wells causing the plague. If we, gypsies did all they said don’t you think we would own all the riches in the land instead of living in direst poverty.”

  “You know what I think, mama. I think nobody’s going to heaven, and I believe you are going to bake me a strawberry pie. It’s your destiny and mine is to eat it!” That boy was merely eight years old and he could win arguments with me. I thought then that the world should beware of Antonio.

  Then there was the dreadful day Marie told me she had found a mentor for Antonio, Diego Velasquez, the court painter. I cried, I cursed her, and I begged her and she understood.

  “Carina, (Darling), it is for the best. We must mold his talent. He, too, will be a great artist. It is his fate. Don’t fight Us, my love.” And she took my hand and stared into my eyes.

  “None are sufficient to the task,” I said. “Besides, who would respect a gypsy boy.”

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  “Diego is a fine artist and he is more than capable. We will not be contradicted.

  It is settled. Carmen, do not fight Us.”

  “But, Marie he is my heart. I’ll be lonely all the time. Why not send him just in the days and have him stay with me at night?”

  “Carmen, he needs to fully absorb what it is to be a great artist, the joys, the triumphs, the pain. He shall live with Diego, as his son. A boy needs a man to mold him.

  A woman’s hand cannot fashion a son. I would suggest my husband but he is not up to the task. We have spoken. Ready the boy for the change. You will see him on all the holidays: he will stay with you. That is all, do you hear Us, Carmen?”

  “On another topic, the crowned heads of Europe want to meet you. Our Uncle, King Louis XIV, is most anxious to meet you as is his Queen.”

  “Do they know of our love.”

  “We suspect so. Secrets are like wild swallows, they fly. But have no fear We will deal with their curiosity. They dare not contradict Us. We will not abide idle curiosity. You shall be honored.”

  “I could curse them with death or threaten to.”

  “We assure you that won’t be necessary. Besides, does that really work?”

  “In most cases, and then there’s poison.”

  “Carmen, you are a dangerous, woman.

  “As are you, Marie.

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  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Duke of Osuna came to visit us the month before we left for France. He and I held our secret between us tightly like a drop of blood pressed between my breasts. For as long as she lived Marie never suspected anything. A lady in waiting, named Sonia Isabelle suspected me after seeing me get into the Duke’s coach, and tried to take advantage of that knowledge. The next day they found her dead in her chambers, white as the linen sheets on the royal bed, swollen like a toad. It was a shame; she had such beautiful skin like a fresh peach in truth. I could not tolerate an informer. Life is funny: one can be alive one day and dead the next.

  The Duke or Jito came that afternoon, bearing a basket of green pears, ripe cheeses with bitter cloves and several bottles of excellent wine.

  “And how are my girls today”, he asked.

  “We feel a bit bilious today as if with child,” said Marie.

  I said that that was as impossible as Torquemada consorting with a puta (whore), and laughed. Tomas de Torqemada is the head Inquisitor.

  “Not so impossible,” said the Duke. “Some will do what they forbid others to do.

  He is not a just man.”

  “You really dislike him, Duke,” asked Marie.

  “I really hate the man. As you know he can persecute the wretched victim without telling him what his crime is or who accused him. So the person keeps getting tortured until he confesses to the right heresy. Furthermore, the Church seizes all his land and property making the man’s wife and children paupers if they have nowhere to go. It 121

  is a way to gain riches and property without paying for it. The Holy Catholic Chuch is an abomination and has little to do with our Lord’s sacred love!”

  “Duke, you are so passionate. Were We a different woman, We would fall in love with you,” said the Queen.

  “I also,” I said and winked. The Queen did not notice.

  “Were I a different man, I would marry the both of you, and damned be the consequences,” and he laughed his bold, boisterous laugh I had grown to love.

  “Two at once,” said the Queen.

  “I could never chose between you. Porque, no? (Why not). On a more serious note, you are in danger, Carmen. Torquemada is casting about for a sin to hang on you, and there are so many to choose from. Being a gypsy is the prime one.

  He calls you a sorcerer and a necromancer. He is all fired up. Expect a summons from him. There will be three before he imprisons you as is the custom.”

  “We will not permit it. Carmen is Our life,” said the Queen.

  “You cannot contradict the Inquisitor, my Queen. He believes his authority comes from God, a higher power than earthly authority,” said Jito.

  “Don’t tell me what We may and may not do. We will kill him if he can’t be bought off.”

  “And have a People
’s Revolt. This is a Catholic country and many are the faithful,” said Jito.

  I felt the hand of fear clamp around my heart. A death curse on Torquemada might not work, Death curses sometimes do not work on concentrated evil.

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  “Then We will hide her if he can’t be bought,” said Marie. “Nothing must happen to Our gypsy. We are taking her to France to meet Our uncle, King Louis. Maybe she will stay there.”

  “I will not live in France, Marie. Let us find another way. Before I go to France I must meet Velasquez and find what manner of man he is before I turn my son over to him.”

  “He is to apprentice to Diego Velasquez? That is very good, Carmen. He is a fine and accomplished man,” said Jito.

  “Still, I must know him before I let my boy go. He’s only eight years old!”

  “You shall know him, Our Caballito. Little horse is a name that suits you well,” said Marie.

  “Yes, it does suit her, my Queen,” replied Jito.

  “How is Marcella, Duke,” inquired the Queen. “Let there be no secrets between us.”

  “Lazy as ever. She takes to her bed with one ailment after another. I think she does not want to do household chores or take care of the children.”

  “And you, Duke, does she take care of you,” I inquired.

  “Marcella hasn’t seen a cock in many many years, least of all, mine. I prefer the women of the town. She’s so fat I cannot even see her sex.”

  “Have you many women, Duke,” I said archly.

  “The Lord provides. I take what is given,” replied the Duke.

  “I think it has nothing to do with the Lord,” I replied.

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  “Perhaps, my Caballito. But there is only one woman I love and she knows who she is,” he replied looking me directly in the eyes.

  I smiled and determined to find out who they were and then give them boils and disturbances below the waist for who could resist a visit from La Gitana. I share my men with no one since Julio. I was a jealous and spiteful woman and I would poison them only but not to the death. It is a sin to kill and a last resort.