“The King rules well. He can handle the citizens. He probably already has a plan. You have seen how he is.” Mille said.
Yana could feel her heart swell with love for her dear King. Mille was absolutely right. Bastion always had a plan. Bastion always had answers. She remembered how it felt to take orders from him. She did not mind. In fact, she recalled how terrible it felt when she defied him on the ship to Kaffa. Yana had never accepted a leader before him. Only the most excellent man could ever gain her trust that way. Bastion was that man.
“Yes,” Yana agreed. “He is the only man that I would ever follow.”
“I do hope you decide to stay, at least for a while,” Mille said. “It is so good to dance with you. The entire palace is brighter with you here.”
“I will decide after the Coronation,” Yana said. “I love it here too. You are a good friend to me, and being with Bastion...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I fear I will never be the same.”
“That good, huh?” Mille said, laughing.
“Bosh!” Yana said, laughing with her.
“Hey- we should go on journey together! You could come with my caravan!” Yana said. Mille hesitated. She had been thinking about that lately.
“I would travel with you,” Mille said. “But I do not have a good horse.”
“We can figure something out. Bastion is not the only one who can hatch a good plan!” Yana said. “We could bellydance together too!”
“I have not done that in ages,” Mille said.
“I could help you,” Yana said. “I know we could do it.”
“Should we really do that in the King’s courts?” Mille asked.
“I did it for Bastion,” Yana said.
“You did?” Mille said, incredulous. “No wonder he is in love with you.”
“Let’s add it to our show!” Yana said.
“And you will help me? We don’t have that much time left before the Coronation.”
“You will be amazing! Oh, I have such a good idea. Let’s go out to the west meadows. I know a few others who can help!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Draiman strolled through the open market near Tatu Castle. He had stayed much longer than he expected, but Degonyat had not arrived on time. His ships had come with men, including Bari, his lieutenant.
“Bari!” he shouted, spotting him.
“Draiman,” Bari greeted him. “You are still here?”
“Is that him?” Draiman asked, pointing out to the ship that was making port.
“He should be on board, yes,” Bari said. “Let’s go find out.” They made their way for the docks. Sailors were throwing out ropes and shouting, as they secured their ship. Degonyat leapt out, onto the big planks.
“Oi!” Draiman said. “How was your voyage?”
“Damned boring!” Degonyat said. “I hate sailing.”
“We have made good progress,” Bari reported. “We have cleared out most of the rubble, and the castle is big enough to suit us.” They walked towards it, as the other men began to unload the ship.
“How many men will you have?” Draiman asked.
“We will have over four hundred, all told,” Degonyat said. “I did well with the men from Trebizond.”
“My man said that you will have slaves for soldiers?”
“We will,” he confirmed. “The slaves are eager to fight.”
“Four hundred will be enough, as long as the gates are open,” Draiman said. “They will not be ready for us.”
“Good, good,” Degonyat said.
“Even better,” Draiman said. “The new King has enemies in his city. They will support us, and give us free reign to capture all the gypsies we can when they scatter. They are comfortable and careless right now.”
“We must have surprise,” Degonyat said.
“We have something else too,” Draiman said. “The King’s uncle will be easily turned. He wants to be King. We can destroy Bastion and the black riders, and install him as the King. The people will accept him. They are angry at the new King for allowing all the gypsies in the city and the west meadows.”
“If we can get him to help, he can sell us his enemies!” Degonyat laughed, his voice as crusty and thick as his massive eyebrows. “At a discount, of course,” he added. They entered the castle, and looked around. The men that had come so far were industrious and active.
“I am impressed!” Degonyat said. “Good work, Bari.”
“Thank you,” Bari said. “We should be ready to move on Jedikai within a couple weeks, once everyone else has arrived. We have more weapons than we can carry.” Men were training- some of them with staffs, some with swords, some were fighting hand-to-hand.
“How are you with a sword, Draiman?” Degonyat asked.
“I don’t carry a sword,” Draiman said.
“How are you going to fight with no sword?” Bari said. Draiman picked up a sword near him, and hefted it, and then drew it out.
“I’ll bet you ten pieces of silver that I am better than you,” Draiman said, challenging him. Bari drew his sword before Draiman could even finish speaking. They squared off, and a clash of metal rang out as Bari went on the offensive. Draiman defended him, moving around to his left. Draiman went on the attack, slashing furiously, forcing Bari to retreat under the blows. Bari recovered, launching another volley of slashes. Draiman deflected them easily.
“Is that your best?” Draiman said, mocking him. Bari slashed again, and Draiman turned him around and kicked him in the side, knocking him down. Bari scrambled to get up. Draiman came after him, forcing Bari to retreat once more. Bari shoved him back, and flung sand in his face when he advanced again. Draiman closed his eyes, expecting the move. He struck down the sword from Bari’s hand, kicked him to the ground, and held his own sword to his chest.
“Damned gypsies,” Bari muttered, conceding the fight.
“Very good!” Degonyat bellowed, clapping his hands. “We need good swordsmen!”
“I hear the new King is an expert,” Bari said. “You better practice up, Draiman,” Bari said, hoping to provoke him.
“I hope I get the chance,” Draiman said. “His black cowards are not used to a real fight.”
“Ah yes. The black bastards. They killed Volga, and every one of his men. Filled them full of arrows. One of them was even shot through the mouth!” Degonyat said with disgust.
“The King’s uncle said that he may disband the riders,” Draiman said. “I will see what I can find out about it.”
“That will make it even easier for us!” Degonyat said. “How do you know the King’s uncle so well?” Degonyat asked. Draiman smiled.
“I am one of his spies! He thinks of me as an old friend!” They all burst out laughing.
“If he does not cooperate,” Degonyat said, “He will be your old dead friend.”
“He will cooperate. Trust me.” Draiman said.
“Trust a gypsy?” Bari said. They all burst into laughter again.
Draiman left the Lower Reach, with promises that he or his men would relay information between them, as the army gathered. The anticipation of what was to come excited him more than he could stand. He smiled in amusement at Degonyat’s report of Volga’s men shot full of arrows. The black riders were not archers. He only knew one person who could shoot like that.
Yana must have killed them all.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Great Hall throbbed with life, as people from all over the kingdom had come for the party, and even some from other kingdoms. The Coronation was tomorrow, and it was tradition to celebrate the King’s last night before he assumed the crown.
Otta worked with the Chamberlain to make sure everything was getting done. Every worker in the palace was on hand, hustling to accommodate the huge crowd. The inns of the city were filled with visitors, and even some gypsies. The city was in celebration outside the palace, as well.
Bastion and Yana were in his chambers, getting ready. Bastion was wearing the cloak that
the gypsy girls had given him, and his white gypsy shirt, with tall black leather boots.
“You are not going to wear the King’s wardrobe?” Yana asked.
“The King’s wardrobe is whatever I want it to be,” Bastion said.
“I like that.” Yana, on the other hand, was dressed in royal garb more suited for the palace- not her normal gypsy dresses. Her hair was even done up, thanks to the servant girls and Mille.
“Now I am the gypsy, and you are the royalty,” Bastion joked.
“Does that mean I can tell you what to do?” Yana said, mischief in her eyes. Bastion took her and wrapped her in his arms.
“Absolutely not.” he said.
“No? Here I am in the royal chambers, in a royal dress, in a grand palace. It looks to me like I’m in charge, gypsy boy!” Bastion laughed and kissed her.
“You don’t look too much like a king in that big dress!”
“Then maybe you should get me out of it,” Yana teased him.
“You won’t look like a king then either!” he said.
“I might look like a queen, though,” she said. The thought of Yana’s naked form made his blood run hot. He loved the way she was with him. They had been having an exceptional time, since they got back to the city together. Since they locked eyes in that gulley, really. Yana had helped him through the death of his father, and was a boon to his soul, helping him cast off his cares every time they were together. But they could not dodge the approaching crossroads much longer. After the Coronation, the citizens might accept her as queen, but not as a lover or mistress. Bastion began thinking of her naked once more, which was a much more pleasant thought.
“You look like a queen, right now,” Bastion said, his voice taking on a less playful tone. Yana embraced him tightly.
“But I am only a common gypsy,” she said, with a pouty, coy smile.
“You are a gypsy, but there is nothing common about you.” he said. Yana kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips, and the feel of his arms around her.
“I know we need to talk, Bastion,” she said. “I have wanted just to enjoy you a while, live in the moment, making love with you.”
“Making love to you is my paradise, Yana,” he said.
“As it is mine. We will talk soon. For now, let us have one more carefree night.”
“And so we shall,” he said. “Will you accompany me to the hall?” he said, holding his arm out. Yana took his arm, and let him lead her out.
“Bar Valo,” Yana said. “You look delicious. I could devour you,” she said, her voice full of lust.
“Not if I consume you first, little gypsy,” Bastion said, equally full of desire for her.
“Not tonight, my King,” she said. “Tonight, you are mine.”
___________________________
The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 20- “two”
Bastion entered the hall with Yana on his arm.
“Citizens of Jedikai, welcome the King- King Bastion!” the Chamberlain announced loudly.
A cheer went up as the crowd saw them come in. Instead of going to his table, the King made his way through the hall, Yana on his arm. They greeted the guests, reaching out hands in greeting, acknowledging the visitors. The crowd was enthusiastic, showing love to the young King and the gypsy heroine that accompanied him. The palace musicians played the King’s song, upbeat and lively.
Bastion and Yana took their seats, after working the room and greeting the people. The food and drink was brought out, and the crowd buzzed happily.
“Bastion,” Yana leaned in, “why did he only introduce you, and not me?”
“It would not be proper custom for him to do so unless you were queen,” Bastion said. Yana frowned. “Besides, you need no introduction. Everyone in the kingdom knows who you are.” Yana understood, but did not like it anyway. She decided not to let it ruin her night. She had too much else to do. Yana took a few healthy sips of wine, and got up from her seat. The queen’s seat. Yana looked at it, and at Bastion.
“Excuse me, your majesty,” Yana said formally, and left the table. The King dined with Otta, Nico and Nathaniel, good old Obadiah, and some of the foreign visitors.
“How is our project coming along?” he asked Obadiah.
“Coming along well, Sire,” Obadiah replied. “Soon, people will be able to tell what it is!”
“Well done,” Bastion said. “You do outstanding work.”
“Thank you, Sire. Where is Yana?” he asked, looking around. Bastion noticed that she had been gone a while. He hoped she was not annoyed at the formalities; it was part of what they needed to talk about.
“Gone to freshen up, I imagine,” Bastion said. He looked to the servant girl.
“Della, right?” Bastion said to her. Della was amazed and flattered that the King remembered her name.
“Yes, your majesty,” she said.
“Have you seen Yana?”
“Yes, your majesty,” she said, trying to keep her composure.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“She has asked me not to say, Sire.” Bastion was irritated. How could she go from being so alluring and playful to such annoyance that she would leave his side? He wanted her next to him. He decided to stay put.
“I believe you will see her soon, your majesty,” Della said. Bastion said nothing, and Della retreated back to the galley. More time went by, and still no Yana. Bastion was displeased, but carried on with the men at the table just as well. He would not be beholden to her whims. Not ever.
The musicians finished their song, and each of them began playing tambourines, all together in a tinny beat. The crowd turned their attention at the sound, only to see a tent moving towards them. It was not large, and the fabric covering was airy and light, yet still concealing its contents.
When the tent came into position, it stopped, and the musicians stopped their beat. The drummer played a fancy, drawn out pattern on his big bass drum, and at the last strike, Mille popped out of the tent with a flourish.
“Behold, my King! Behold, citizens! A special night for all!” Mille said. She was wearing her most ridiculous hat, and a costume bursting with color. Her eyes were painted around in red and black, instead of the full face-paint that she usually wore.
“Many roads, I have known, and many places I call home,” she began.
“The kingdom we all live and love, but other lands we still dream of.”
“And so I sing this song for you: I wish I was not one, but two!” The musicians started their introduction, as Bastion looked around. He wished Yana was here; she would be upset to miss this. Mille was in good form.
“How good and sweet my life would be
If there were simply two of me
A traveling one, to seek and roam
and a peaceful one, to stay at home!”
Mille danced about, deliberate and joyous, as she sang.
“a searching one with open eyes
to see the biggest, widest skies
while happy homestead things are done
by my contented other one
and therein does my problem lie
for the traveling me does vie
for crazy risks and moving feet
for stormy skies and winds of fleet
for oceans with their salty smell
for lust and drink, they cast their spell
yet chained to happy, carefree me
my second self resists to flee
it does not like the urge to move
I wish I was not one, but two!”
At that, a second jester popped out of the tent next to Mille, dressed exactly like her. Looking like twins, they were indistinguishable to Bastion, and the crowd. Same ridiculous hat, too. They moved in perfect unison, as Mille continued her song.
“My quiet side, it loves routine
that habits make, and same old scenes
of home and hearth and candlelight
with books and chairs, all set just right
of tiny tr
easures, on the shelf
and a garden for my homey self
And all along my restless side
It wants to go on every ride”
Bastion peered closer. It couldn’t be. Could it?
“I cannot stop my roaming one
who always wants to have more fun
who wants to sail on every tide
the dreams of each of us inside
like fighting cocks, my two sides brawl
and I can find no peace at all!
One face turns to road and track
The other face looks always back
I move to madness from the strain
the two of me pulled tight and twain
I say go, and yet I stay
I choose ‘aye’, and I choose ‘nay’
One self wants to be a wife
and one self wants the drifter’s life
The restless me, it always wins
Oh that I could be but twins
I wish I did not have to choose
I wish I was not one, but two!”
The two jesters finished frozen, on the last beat of the song, lifting their hats, letting their hair spill out. The crowd erupted in applause, realizing it was Mille and Yana together, smiling as wide as can be. Yana was thrilled. The number came off perfectly.
From down the hall, a new sound came. A thumping beat that Bastion recognized as the djembe. Gypsy drums. The girls moved with the beat and retreated back into the mysterious tent in the center of the hall.
The drums grew louder, as a parade of single file gypsies marched slowly in. They were dressed in their best attire, with the drums leading. They were followed by three gypsies who began to play their flutes, as they neared their place. The violins joined in next, and the palace musicians joined in with their tambourines. They reached a crescendo, and stopped all together on a final beat. Silence followed the echo of the sound, as the entire hall looked on intently.
The Gypsy Queen Page 21