Deeper Than Roses

by Charlene Cross

  “The Kris!” Liza cried, breaking from the center of the pack. “She is not one of us. Why should she be allowed a trial by our court of law?”

  A mumble of voices filtered through the crowd, heads nodding in agreement. “Because she is my betrothed. We are to marry in a week. By the fact we are promised, she is already one of us. Therefore, she cannot be banished without benefit of a trial. The Kris will decide if she is guilty or not.”

  “Guilty or not!” Liza cried, a feral gleam in her dark eyes. “The evidence lies before you! Is that not Sidi’s jewelry?” she asked, pointing at the gold in Rupa’s hand. “Was the Gajo not left alone with her by Balo’s request?” She saw the nods of several heads, then promptly walked to Rupa’s side. “Is this not the Gajo’s garment?” Her fingers flicked the material as though she were repulsed by it. Again there was accord from the others. “She stole from the dead… from one of our own. She should be banished. Now!”

  Wide green eyes darted from one person to another, viewing each face. Condemnation was written on them all, and Kristiana’s heart lurched as raw panic filled her. Then her gaze shot to Logan. His concentration was on Liza; then his unreadable gaze swung her way to view her for what seemed an endless moment in time. Slowly he turned to his uncle and spoke to him in barely audible tones.

  Uncertain of her fate, Kristiana felt like dropping her burden and fleeing into the forest Why she still held the heavy weapons she couldn’t say, except perhaps she thought they might somehow afford her a measure of protection. If the group began to descend on her, she would unbind the furs and stave off the whole with the aid of Logan’s dagger. No one would lop off part of her ear as a sign of banishment—at least not without a fight!

  Her gaze shot back and forth between Logan and his uncle and the assembly of unfriendly looking Gypsies. Kristiana watched as Yokka, considered the leader of the tribe, broke away from Logan’s side. He stepped forward, and in his native tongue he spoke sternly to the gathering. On a loud grumble the crowd dispersed, but not without several hostile glances aimed in Kristiana’s direction.

  Rupa and Liza lingered briefly; the harsh look in their eyes showed their contempt. Rupa again spat at Kristiana’s feet, while Liza curled her lip. Then the two women marched up the lane. As she passed behind her husband Rupa dropped the incriminating jewelry and shift by Yokka’s feet. He retrieved the articles from the dust then, with a steady look at his nephew, he followed after the others.

  “What is to happen?” Kristiana asked as Logan relieved her of the weapons. “Why did they all leave?”

  “You are to be tried by the Kris. Until then you will remain away from the others. They are not to speak to you, nor are they to approach you.”

  Nothing new there, she thought, knowing she’d been an outcast from the start “What is this court… this Kris of which you spoke?”

  Logan placed the fur-wrapped claymore and dagger on the ground. “Yokka and several other elders will gather to sit in solemn judgment. Witnesses will be called, and by the testimony given the Kris will decide your fate.”

  “Am I not allowed to plead my own case?”

  Logan’s gaze caught Kristiana’s. “No,”

  “But I’ve done nothing wrong. I have no idea how Sidi’s jewelry got into the cart!” He seemed not to believe her. “I swear! I didn’t take it!”

  His eyes searched hers; then, without comment, he moved to the cart. “When the wheel has been fixed,” he said over his shoulder, “you will travel well back from the others, and when we camp again, keep yourself apart. No one is to assist you in any way. That includes me.”

  Stunned, Kristiana could only look at him. He now squatted by the wheel, assessing its damage. Slowly he rose. “I wish you well, Kristiana.” He strode off toward the wagons.

  In disbelief she watched his retreating form. He had deserted her! His words, uttered only moments before, seemed to confirm the thought, and her heart twisted in pain. Obviously, like the rest, he believed her guilty! Yet if that were so, why then had he insisted she be tried by the Kris? Since she could not speak in her own behalf, and no one seemed anxious to do it for her, the verdict was clear.

  Then she considered whether perhaps he had requested the forum in order to appease his people. After all, he had brought this thief—this robber who stole from the dead!—into their midst. By allowing them the right to impugn her honor, to inflict one final insult upon her, it might be construed as an apology for his offensive action of foisting her upon them.

  Kristiana imagined that once her punishment was pronounced she would be carried from the camp and tossed into the thick of the forest. There, left to her own devices, she knew her chances for survival would be close to naught. She had no skills to rely upon. Truly fate would determine whether or not she lived.

  The thought of such ill treatment infuriated Kristiana. Were she wise, she would leave now, saving herself the pain and humiliation yet to come. The adults, she knew, would taunt her, heap angry aspersions on her and on her parentage, spit at her feet, while their progeny—uncouth and unruly as the impudent brood was—would pinch her flesh and tear at her clothing. By fleeing this circle of heathens now she’d be delivered of their forthcoming hostility.

  Be strong, my child. Sidi’s voice suddenly echoed in her ears, and Kristiana decided it was time she stood her ground and faced the lot. And face them she would! She had not committed the crime she’d been accused of. In the end, she realized, the result might be the same—banishment—but she would not leave until she had had her say. A wealth of diatribes filled her throat, desiring instant release, but she swallowed the malevolent rebukes, intent on saving them for the moment when there was an abundance of ears to hear them.

  A rumbling sound drew her attention, and her concentration turned toward its source. Logan, Yokka, and four other men rolled a new wheel toward the cart. Seeing the goldeneyed Gypsy, she felt her heart twist again in pain. His gaze held rigidly forward, he would not acknowledge her with even a brief glance in her direction.

  Kristiana noted his deliberate snub, and anger renewed itself in her breast, cloaking her misery. Green fire danced in Kristiana’s eyes, and her gaze burned into Logan’s back, which had presented itself to her as he hunkered down by the cart. For a man who had professed his eternal love only a few short days ago, he seemed to have withdrawn all appearances of the sentiment completely, and it had been done in what she deemed undue haste.

  In times of tribulation she would have thought he would stand beside her, offering her his protection and his support. Hypocrite! she thought, deciding it was better to discover his true character now than to wait until after they had said their vows. Caught up in her wretchedness, her feelings of utter woe, Kristiana conveniently forgot all that had gone before them. Had she remembered, she would have known Logan remained, as always, her champion.

  Soon the new wheel was affixed to the cart. The men disbanded, each going his separate way, all except Logan. Steadying herself, Kristiana watched as he approached her. “We are ready to move,” he said. “Keep your eye on the trail. Should you damage another wheel, you will go it afoot. Remember, too, you are to keep yourself back and apart from the rest. There is to be no communication with any of us.”

  Kristiana’s head cast itself upward; her chin tilted haughtily. “I will do so gladly,” she stated; then she lifted her skirt and marched toward the cart. Once seated, she turned cold eyes upon him. “Hadn’t you better find your mount and catch up with the others?” She nodded toward the moving wagons. “If you tarry, they might decide you have been tainted by me. Make haste lest you also find yourself ‘back and apart from the rest.’ ”

  Logan watched as she snapped the reins; the old mare lumbered off, the cart in tow. His eyes closed, and he breathed deeply, then he expelled a long breath. The green of her eyes had been as hard as unpolished jade, her demeanor as cold as a Highland frost. He knew this would not be easy, but it was the only way for him to draw out the truth.


  Damnation, Kristiana! Why can’t you trust me? his heart cried.

  Because, you fool, his head countered, she knows nothing of your plan!

  Nor would she, he conceded silently. At least not yet. Once the facts had finally made themselves known, he could only hope and pray she would forgive him. Until then he was compelled to play out his deception. It would bring her much sorrow, he knew. Yet, with luck, her unhappiness would be brief. Likewise, he hoped his own misery would be equally short.

  Logan’s shrill whistle penetrated the stallion’s ears, and the beast came running down the lane. After pulling himself astride the horse Logan set it into a full gallop. As he passed the cart he regarded how Kristiana had posed herself stiffly on its seat; his heart constricted. His gaze set on a distant point far beyond the wagons ahead of him, he recognized he must play the game, and he must play it well. Otherwise all would be lost. It was the only way, he repeated in silence, trying to convince himself he had not erred in his judgment.

  From a distance Kristiana watched the man she loved, the man she’d thought loved her.

  In his usual place beside the men’s campfire he reclined, the weight of his torso resting on one elbow. His relaxed posture reminded her of a lazing lion basking in the noonday sun as a harem of females stalked through the heat, hunting for his next meal. Only it was night, and he possessed a harem of one—Liza.

  For the past three evenings the girl had traipsed the area directly behind Logan, handing him anything he had desired at a moment’s request. He drank freely, still pouring a portion from his cup onto the ground, a Gypsy custom that showed reverence for the dead. His show of respect had ended there, for his deep laughter had rung out periodically, especially when Liza made a friendly overture to him. Afterward a wide grin had remained on his face, as it did now, and Kristiana thought he resembled a court jester. The fool!

  Kristiana also thought his eyes lingered on the young woman for what seemed an indecently long time. Being set well apart from the others, she was uncertain of exactly what his gaze held, but she imagined those golden irises displayed a seductive look, its heated message meant only for Liza. Since flirtation was strictly forbidden among his people—or so he had said—Kristiana had to wonder about his principles. He seemed to choose the laws he wanted to follow, casting aside those with which he disagreed.

  There had been no communication between Logan and herself these past few days, for he’d kept himself well away from her, in accordance with Romany law. She’d been ostracized by all. However, with Liza the rules didn’t seem to apply. In truth, he acted like a rutting boar sniffing after a sow. He had no morals, she decided, her hurt and anger rising. And he lacked allegiance to everyone save himself.

  Liza’s throaty laughter winged its way across the span separating Kristiana from the others. Green eyes watched as the girl lowered her ear to Logan’s lips. He appeared to whisper something. Then, with a saucy smile, Liza rose from her stooped position and strolled away from the men’s campfire toward the wood. When she thought no one looked her way she disappeared into the stand of trees.

  Before long Logan rolled to his feet. His long body stretched, much like a cat’s, and then his gaze turned in the direction of the wood. Aware that he intended to follow Liza, Kristiana averted her head. Then she scooted around on her rump so her whole body pivoted, until her back faced the group. While she stared down at the meager fare consisting of a few berries and an edible root she’d foraged from the wood a film of tears covered her eyes, blocking out the unappetizing sight. As the sound of the small campfire crackled in her ears her heart compressed in her chest, and Kristiana felt herself fighting for each breath. At once she knew she could no longer withstand the torture she suffered.

  They had called her a thief, so a thief she would be! Once the camp had quieted and everyone slept she would hitch the mare to the cart and vanish into the night. She cared not where she went, as long as it was far from here. And far from the golden-eyed Gypsy who had broken her heart.

  Logan diverted his gaze from the edge of the wood, where Liza had faded from view, to glimpse the young man who stood across the campfire just behind the circle of elders. A muscle twitched along Kore’s rigidly set jaw; his dark eyes shone with raw hatred. The emotion, Logan knew, was directed at him.

  The trap had been set. Now it needed to be sprung. Glancing at his uncle, whereupon he saw Yokka’s slight nod, Logan set a course for the wood, more than certain Kore would follow. Before he slipped into the cover of the trees he set his gaze on Kristiana. Thankfully she knew nothing of his passage into the forest. Have faith, my love. Soon you will be free from worry. His heart sent the message her way, then Logan trained himself toward the spot where Liza awaited him.

  Eyes of gold gazed out over the small loch that stood close to the camp. Bathed in moonlight, the water’s shimmering surface resembled quicksilver. Briefly Logan wished another stood beside him, sharing the beauty of this night.

  “Your thoughts are heavy,” Liza said, her eyes viewing his profile. He was not the same man who had lured her from the camp with his charming words and seductive manner. Her gaze narrowed. “You think of her, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Logan admitted. Turning his attention to Liza, he felt her anger. “And I think of what a fool I’ve been. She betrayed me—she betrayed us all, Liza. She stole from me; she stole from the dead one. And she stole from you.”

  Liza frowned. “From me? How?”

  A sigh escaped Logan’s lips; he shook his head dejectedly. “She stole the love I had planned to give to you.”

  At hearing the last of his words, Liza’s heart leapt. Then she remembered the first of them. “You still love her?”

  “I don’t know. I think I am bewitched. She cast a spell on me, blinding me to all that is precious, keeping me from the one I desired, but of whom I am no longer worthy.” Long fingers raked through his hair. “Is there no one to save me from this terrible curse?” He turned away from her. “I must leave the Rom,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I have disgraced us all.”

  Liza’s eyes widened; she stepped in front of him. “No! It is the Gajo who must leave. She does not belong here. She never has!”

  Through guarded eyes Logan gazed down her. “It is better I go, Liza. There will be no forgiveness for what I have done to our people. I am the one who should be banished. I dishonored them, and I dishonored you. Go from me, before I pollute you.” He tried to turn her away, but she fought off his hands.

  “No! I will not leave you. The Gajo witch blinded you. You said so yourself. But now you can see. The others will forgive you, just as I forgive you now. Once the Gajo has left us, you and I can be married.”

  “No, Liza. I am no longer deserving of you. There are others who are far more worthy. Kore—”

  “Kore!” she shrieked, then she spat on the ground. “He is a boy, not a man! He follows me around like a lovesick puppy, his big eyes constantly watching me. He sickens me! I would die before I would let him touch me.” She stepped closer to Logan, and her hand met his solid chest. Slowly it made its ascent. “You are strong, virile, and will give me many sons. Kore does not arouse my desire.” Her roving fingers encircled the nape of Logan’s neck. “It is you who sets me aflame. You are the one I want.”

  Logan didn’t resist the pressure of her hand. But when his lips met Liza’s he thought of another place, another time, and another woman was in his arms. The kiss ended almost before it had begun. As Logan drew back a rustle sounded in the clump of silver birch only yards from where they stood. “There is danger for us here.”

  Enthralled by the brief touch of his lips, Liza let her throaty laughter fly. “You fear the wind,” she said, smiling. “There is no one here but us.”

  “There is more than the wind in this wood, Liza. Come, we should make our way back.”

  “Not yet,” she insisted, tugging at his hand. “Let’s walk by the water’s edge. Soon we will return to the camp.”

  “
Liza, I cannot risk the consequences if we are caught. It would bode ill for us both.”

  Her head lifted a notch. “Then go.” Her shoulders squared. “But you must promise to speak to my father on the morrow.”

  “Yokka will speak to him on my behalf, as is the custom,” Logan stated. He smiled, and with a gentle squeeze of his hand he headed back through the wood. As he passed the stand of birch trees Logan noted that the shadowy figure that had lurked among them was now gone. Kore had heard every word of Liza’s vicious diatribe. Convinced of it, Logan pitied the young man; but if Kore knew anything—anything at all—he might now share his knowledge with Yokka and the elders.

  When Logan stepped from the wood he directed his inquiring gaze toward his uncle. The man stood solemnfaced, and Logan felt his heart sink. After a long moment Yokka gave a quick nod. The trap had been sprung. Logan acknowledged his uncle in return, then the older man moved to the fire, where he sat beside the other elders. The Kris, Logan knew, was now gathered.

  Across the way Kristiana still sat with her back to the group, wishing they would all find their beds. Growing anxious for the time when she could sneak away from the camp, she wondered if these people ever slept. Suddenly the hair bristled on the nape of her neck. A presence stood behind her.

  As Logan gazed down at her seated form, he was attentive to how she had nearly tucked herself into a tight little ball. Her posture resembled a frightened rabbit’s, and he knew she anguished. Lithely he crouched behind her. “It is time, Kristiana.”

  “Time for what?” she questioned, refusing to look at him.

  “The Kris has gathered. They await you.”

  “They have assembled for naught. I’ll not face them. You may tell them so.”