Gypsy Jewel

by Patricia McAllister

  The Tower meant calamity coming soon. Crossed over the Queen of Diamonds, April’s card, it was as obvious as a warning shout in her ear. Rising abruptly with the ominous card still in hand, Tzigane hobbled as quickly as she could on her arthritic legs to the far end of her wagon.

  Leaning out the back of the wagon, she croaked at the children scampering nearby, “April! Where is April?”

  The boys stopped scuffling in the dirt to regard the phuri dai with wary respect. She appeared ancient to them, and they knew the respect she commanded in the tribe. Still, she frightened them, for her bony fingers shook at them and her raspy cry was like that of an angry crow.

  “Where is April? You must find her for me.”

  The oldest of the boys, and the bravest, risked Tzigane’s wrath by shouting back, “She went to the woods.”

  “Alone?” The old woman looked close to toppling out the back of her wagon, as she leaned dangerously and trembled like a leaf in the wind.

  “No, a bunch of the girls went berry hunting together.”

  Tzigane visibly sagged with relief, then muttered to herself, “Perhaps she is safe … oh, Del, watch over my chavali, my little girl …”

  But even as she prayed, the phuri dai could feel the sharp edge of the tarot card cutting into her clenched fist, and when she looked down, there was blood on her hand.

  “HE’LL BE THE DEATH of you yet!”

  As a familiar horse streaked by him on the forest path, Nicabar shook his fist after the girl who flew by like the wind. The black’s hooves tossed up chunks of soft, dark earth that spurted in every direction, and one of the clods hit the young man squarely on the cheek. With a furious gesture, he wiped off the mud and started to run after her.

  Ahead of him, the stallion and the carefree Romany maid shot from the trees into the glorious sunlight of an open meadow. Riding bareback, the young woman wore slim-cut black trousers like Nicabar’s, but there was no mistaking her for a man. Nature had conspired in the last few years to make April unmistakably feminine, and just to watch her ride astride was enough to make Nicky’s loins throb.

  He caught up with April when she drew Prince Adar down to a canter and circled ahead in a clearing. Pausing on the forest’s fringe, Nicky took the opportunity to covertly observe the girl. Eyes shining with exhilaration from her wild ride, April leaned down to stroke the arched neck of the horse as she finally brought the animal to a stop in the knee-high, lush grass.

  Sliding down from Adar’s sweaty back, April pulled off the simple harness to let the horse graze. She leaned over to scratch the stallion behind his ears, while the black emphatically rubbed his head up and down against her. “Is that the spot? Yes? I know what you like, itchy boy.” Laughing, April let her horse eat in peace then, content to watch him rip the rich grass easily from the moist earth.

  Hands on her hips, April turned to survey the view, drinking deeply of the clean, crisp mountain air. Surely there was no place as close to paradise as the Lowara’s summer range, where sea and sky met in a clash of awe-inspiring, perfect blue. Plucking a stem of grass for herself, April chewed absently on the tender white root as she gazed westward.

  Out there, just beyond the craggy slopes of the high mountains, the Black Sea crashed unrelentingly upon white sand shores. She sniffed, imagining she could smell the salty sea tang. When the heat turned unbearable at lower altitudes, the band always retreated to the cool shadows of the forests. There the Lowara would remain until the decision was made to head south again. Though April enjoyed the sea, she felt at home here in the blessed peace of the mountains, and the tension drained from her now as she surveyed her beloved homeland.

  Someday, she thought, she might ignore King Jingo’s orders for her to stay close to camp, and ride over the next rise just to see what was there. April had a burning desire to learn about the world. She was glad she was a gypsy, for she had seen the constriction the gaje girls endured. Never to ride free, never to speak one’s mind … how close to suffocation that must be. Her life now was paradise by comparison.

  Yes, it was paradise, but frustrating, too. She was still a young woman, after all, as the others endlessly reminded her. Everyone in the band wanted to know when she would marry and settle down. She was aware of the boys’ heated stares, and the scandalized looks of the other girls when she refused to wed. But there were no young men in the band who interested her.

  April heard a low chuckle and whirled in consternation to find that her secret meadow had been discovered. Nicabar, the tribe’s horse trader as well as a renowned thief, stalked through the lush grass toward her. The young man’s onyx eyes burned into April, and she returned the stare with thinly-veiled contempt. Nicky was gitano, a Latin gypsy from Spain. With his mother, Belita, he had joined the band two years ago, offering to train and sell the Romany horses.

  But it was not out of love that Nicky worked with animals. It was purely for profit, and April did not mistake the gleam of cruelty in his eye whenever he broke fresh horses to his hand.

  For that reason among others, the animosity between the two young people was instantaneous. April hated the way Nicky’s dark eyes always followed her, hungry and sly. He was annoyed by the control April had over her stallion, Prince Adar. Why the wild stallion had not killed her yet was a mystery to most of the camp, but Nicky suspected it was only witchcraft that kept the horse so biddable.

  After all, hadn’t April been raised by that old hag who told the fortunes? Perhaps the girl practiced dark magic, too. April’s uncanny green eyes challenged him now, and Nicky felt the blood surge hotly in his veins.

  “You almost ran over me back there.” His arrogant voice rang out as he approached her. “That horse should be gelded, girl. And you must learn proper respect for men.”

  April laughed. Nicky was barely older than she. Though she supposed some women might consider him handsome in a Latin way, April was repulsed by his leering mannerisms and greasy, black hair. She was not taken in by his charms like the other girls were, but they were goose-brains anyway, and desperate to marry. April had no wish to wed, not when it meant her will would be completely subject to another’s.

  Nicky was eying Prince Adar now with his usual greed, unaware that the girl had not dignified his complaints with a reply. “I’ll still give you three hundred lire for him. I just took in a little bay mare that’s nice and gentle. It’s a good trade and will save your pretty neck in the end.”

  April laughed again and shook her head. “I’m in more danger from you than Adar,” she said, never suspecting how close to the truth that was.

  Raised alongside the Romany boys in the band, April was nearly fearless, and for years she had tussled with them like a wildcat in the woods. She learned to knife-fight when she was eight, and the Greek gypsy who trained her had once been a slave. Dinos had taught April to be ruthless where self-defense was concerned, and she had learned well. She eyed Nicky now with the same contempt she had reserved for the bullies she had faced in the past.

  Nicky said in a low voice, “What you need is another sort of stallion, April. You should be married and having your own children.”

  “And I suppose you have someone in mind for their father?”

  Nicky grinned. Seeing she was unafraid excited him. He expected women to cringe and tremble in awe of him, and the fact that April seemed unable or unwilling to do that was nothing more than a challenge.

  He took a slow step toward her, raising his hands. “I’ll take the fight out of you like I do my mares,” he said, and when her green eyes widened slightly, he laughed. “The first trick is gentling you to my touch.”

  Adrenalin shot through April as she read the intent in his glittering black eyes. “Stay away from me,” she ordered him, but couldn’t summon further words before his hand shot out and caught her abruptly by the wrist, yanking her into his arms.

  For the height and weight he lacked, Nicky’s strength was like iron. As April struggled in his arms, he wrenched her hands behind he
r back and forced his thin, hard mouth down on hers.

  “Bitch!” He spat out the word along with a bright bead of blood as April sank her teeth into his lip. With the momentary release of his hold, she fled.

  April ran toward her horse, who stopped grazing and regarded his mistress with a look of alarm. Scenting fear on her, the stallion shied away just enough to prevent April from scrambling up on his back. Without the harness, she had no way to hold Adar still.

  Soon it was too late. Nicky ran up behind her, shoving April to the grass and reaching out to soundly slap the horse on the flanks. The black bolted instantly, lashing out his back hooves in a fit of upset before he tore off toward the woods.

  Dazed, April had no time to recover her feet before Nicky dropped on her. In one smooth move he pinned her with a knee on either side, and brutally twisted her wrists above her head. She had the feeling he had either done this before, or had planned it down to the last detail — perhaps both.

  “Go ahead,” Nicky panted down at her, “fight. I like a woman who fights.”

  “Pig!” She spat at him, setting her teeth with the effort of trying to throw him off. She had the satisfaction of seeing he kept well away from her mouth this time, pausing to lick his already bloodied lip.

  Nicky’s nostrils flared as he drank in the sight of the golden beauty splayed beneath him. She was like a young filly, his for the taking and training. He knew now why the mothers in camp murmured restlessly about April, and what a temptation she was for their sons. They would never admit they were jealous themselves, jealous of her fairness and her slim, proud figure that so easily set men afire.

  April’s green eyes shot sparks of hatred up at him, and her long legs flailed wildly in the attempt for freedom. Nicky glanced over his shoulder at the sight of her hips snugly encased in the tight trousers, and he felt the sharp swell of his desire.

  “Relax, chula,” he chuckled lewdly as he settled himself firmly into the saddle of her hips, “you’ll only hurt yourself. I’ll ride you, cat-eyes, and curb your spirit. Soon you’ll beg me for more.”

  His leering face deserved only one thing. April spat up at him and had the satisfaction of seeing Nicky flinch.

  “You still think you’re too good for me, eh? I’ll show you, witch.”

  While Nicky muttered his vile plans for her, April held down the nausea and the fear enough to construct one of her own. Suddenly she remembered the small dagger she had tucked under her belt that morning, a gift from Tzigane several years ago. She had never had the need to use it until now. With Nicky pinning her hands so effectively, it was unlikely she could reach it anyway. Unless …

  Swallowing her revulsion, April whispered softly, “Please.”

  Nicky paused and savored the word with obvious glee. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

  April licked her dry lips, straining against the burning hold he had on her wrists. “Please, Nicky. Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me.”

  When she suddenly ceased struggling, Nicky stared at April suspiciously. But there was a glimmer of tears in her eyes, real enough to stroke his ego. He had no way of knowing they were tears of rage, not fear.

  “Anything?” he rasped, roughly shaking her for confirmation, until she nodded wildly, anxiously. “You know what I want, April. Will you give it to me?” Again she nodded, and her silky voice stirred hope in the depths of his burning loins.

  “I-I’ve wanted you to teach me things, about men and women,” she stammered convincingly, and blushed a little, which was easy.

  Actually she could imagine nothing less appealing than letting this greasy gitano touch her in any way, but she knew her life depended on her ability to act. When April quickly rimmed her lips with a moist tongue, Nicky groaned aloud. Then gradually, she felt the tiniest loosening of his hold upon her wrists.

  “I knew it,” Nicky panted, “you just need a real man to teach you tricks, eh? You’ve been driving me mad all for nothing, witch. But I can train you well, and I will.”

  He released her hands then, but before April could reach down to grab her dagger, he seized the front of her silky white blouse and ripped it halfway down. Rage engulfed April when he buried his dark head between her breasts and slobbered wet kisses all over her skin.

  Her own hands fumbled desperately about her waist for the handle of the knife, but her palms were sweaty and slick. When she finally found it, it took several tries to tug it free from her tight waistband.

  Thinking April groped for something else between his legs, Nicky grunted encouragement. He never had an inkling as to what was happening until he felt the sharp point of a dagger digging into the tender flesh at his neck, and his head rose with a jolt.

  “No more sudden moves,” April hissed as she kept the razor-thin stiletto pressed to his jugular. Nicky was furious, but he wasn’t foolish enough to jerk away. One thrust, awkward or not, would mean a ghastly wound, or even death.

  “Now, get off me, slowly.” April followed his every move with the waving blade, and he saw bloodlust in her eyes.

  When they were both on their feet, April collected herself again. It took all her self-control not to gut Nicky like the dog he was, and her grip trembled on the little knife, but did not loosen.

  Nicky’s eyes burned like live coals in an otherwise expressionless face. “Give me the knife, April,” he said in a soft, cajoling voice. “You know you don’t need it. I won’t hurt you.”

  He took a single step toward her again, and she tensed with fury. “I will kill you if you touch me again, Nicky.”

  “Women.” He shook his head and gave a deprecating little laugh. “Come on, April, I was only playing. You knew that, didn’t you?”

  The sound of distant voices in the nearby woods caused April’s head to turn in hopeful expectation. Seeing his only chance, Nicky feinted to the right and lunged at her. But he had forgotten how resourceful she was, and April pivoted smoothly and avoided his grasp.

  Knowing she was in dire danger as long as they were alone, and seeing the madness in his eyes, April finally chose to run. She was only steps ahead of Nicky as they crashed wildly into the woods, and she gasped for breath to scream just as he seized a handful of her hair from behind. Pain exploded in her scalp, but instead of trying to tear free again, April spun around and lashed out with the dagger, carving a thin ribbon of blood along his left cheek.

  “April!” Nicky cried her name and it echoed throughout the woods. It sounded strangely forlorn coming from the young man, but April was too angry to notice. She watched in bitter satisfaction as Nicky crumpled to his knees, bright red blood trickling through his hands and spotting his shirt.

  “Why, April? Why did you try to kill me?”

  Nonplussed, April stared at him as Nicky continued his surprising plea with arms outstretched in supplication.

  “I told you it was over long ago. I will marry Marya instead!”

  April heard a sharp intake of breath nearby. Shocked, she glanced over to see that Nicky’s performance had been for the benefit of an audience. She recognized three girls from the camp standing there watching the drama with berry baskets in hand.

  The dagger fell from her numb fingers as she opened her mouth to speak. But already she saw Marya’s eyes hardening on her, and the other Lowaran girl drew herself up with a hiss.

  “So, you jealous little bitch. You’ve been trying to steal my man, eh?” The unmarried daughter of the copper-worker Bruno spat out the words as she ran to Nicky, kneeling by him and gasping in horror at the blood covering his hands.

  “You tried to kill him,” Marya accused April, whipping the kerchief off her dark hair and dabbing at the wound on Nicky’s cheek with angry, curt motions. She glared at her supposed rival for Nicky’s affections.

  “No! He attacked me in the meadow.” April heard her own voice coming as if from a great distance away, and realized she had spoken in a dazed whisper.

  She was no match for Nicky, wh
o gazed up at Marya with soulful, dark gypsy eyes and murmured, “April lured me to the woods and then threw herself at me. I told her we are to wed, but she wouldn’t listen. And when I tried to leave, she came after me with that knife …”

  “Liar!” April lashed out, unable to listen any longer. She indicated her torn blouse clutching it to cover her breasts, and shook with indignation. “How do you think this got ripped to shreds?”

  Nicky closed his eyes in apparent anguish. “You were foolish enough to offer yourself to me, knowing I would never betray Marya.”

  April made an exasperated noise, but when she saw the faces of the other two girls, she tensed. Both Beti and Dodee were staring at her uncertainly, and she saw the conclusion they were coming to.

  “It’s not true. He tried to rape me.” Her desperate cry, however, was lost in the sudden flurry of activity as Nicky rose to stand and Marya rushed to assist him.

  He moaned dramatically and clutched his bleeding face. “Please lead me back to camp. I can’t see … my eye …”

  Knowing she did not go anywhere near his eye, April burned in helpless frustration. But the moment she moved in the direction the others were headed, Marya screamed at her to stay put.

  “You evil thing, stay away from us!”

  As the three girls turned to help him limp from the scene, Nicky glanced over his shoulder and gave April a smug, victorious smile.

  Knowing it would be pointless to run or hide when the men from the camp came in search of her, April waited there until they arrived. After all, she was innocent. Everyone knew that Nicky was cunning and cruel, even to his prized horses.

  She intended to face her accuser with dignity. If it took everything she had, April would see that the truth was dragged into the light of day, and of course her people would believe her.

  Wouldn’t they?

  Chapter Two

  “WE ARE NOT GOING over this again.”