The River Palace: A Water Wheel Novel #3

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Which?” she demanded.

  Gage knew she didn’t mean “which leg”, she meant “which bone”. “The small one,” he answered. “But it’s going to have to be set.” He looked hesitatingly at the old woman’s face. “May I ask her name?” he said to Nadyha.

  “I am Simza,” the woman answered. “I can hear you. What can you do?”

  “Miss Simza, I don’t know if you—you people have better medicine,” Gage said hesitantly, “but I have the best medicine I know of for pain in my saddlebag. It’s a strong, even a dangerous drug. But I think I’m going to need to set your leg, and that’s going to be a much worse pain than you’re in right now.”

  “I know,” she gasped. “Your medicine, is it laudanum?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then give me some.”

  Gage went outside of the wagon and looked around, but Cayenne was nowhere in sight. Then with a jaundiced eye he looked at the cougar, who looked back at him with cool interest. Gage hoped he was interesting because he was a stranger, not because he looked or smelled like a meal.

  Nadyha came out of the wagon and plucked at his sleeve. “I’ll go find your horse and bring him here. Where is the medicine?”

  “It’s in the right-hand saddlebag, a blue bottle,” he answered. “Ma’am, I’m not sure my horse—” But she was already gone, running back the way they came as lightly as a doe.

  Gage went back in to Simza and gently began sopping the blood away from the wound. He could see it clearly now, each sharp tooth of the trap delineated in her skin on each side of her ankle. Across the front and back were long slices as the teeth had slid across instead of digging in. Gage reflected that it had been a good thing it was a wolf trap. If it had been a bigger bear trap it would have cut her foot off.

  He wondered—worried—about the wild girl Nadyha finding Cayenne, and thought that likely the horse hadn’t wandered too far. Gage was sure he was just spooked at the assorted wild animals in the camp, and Gage didn’t blame him a bit for that. He was a little spooked too. Still, maybe she could find Cayenne and at least get close enough to him to get the laudanum—

  She came in the door with the bottle, her eyes glittering, her color high, and demanded, “How much?”

  “Has she ever taken it before? Or had morphine, or anything like that?”

  “No.”

  “Does she drink liquor? Brandy or whisky?”

  “No, never.”

  “Then give her a good-sized spoonful, and we’ll see,” Gage said with more certainty than he felt. Nadyha went to a drawer and came out with a large soup spoon, poured the strong-smelling, thick liquid into it, and gave it to Simza. In a few moments she visibly relaxed, but only a little. “Another, I think,” she said in a stronger voice.

  Nadyha gave her another spoonful.

  They waited, as Simza lay still, her eyes closed. Her breathing grew easier, and her hands stopped shaking. They could see her body relax. She nodded and said quietly, “I’m ready, gajo. Do it now, quickly.”

  Gage moved to the foot of the bed and said to Nadhya, “Hold her leg around her calf. Hold it hard.” Nadyha did as he directed.

  Gage wrapped his left hand around Simza’s foot, his right hand around her ankle, and then gave a mighty jerk. Simza groaned loudly, “Uhhh!” And then it was over. Gage nodded at Nadhya, and saw that she had tears in her eyes. When she saw Gage’s sympathetic expression she dashed them away as if she were ashamed.

  Simza sighed deeply, then said with weak humor, “Ouch, ouch, ouch. That hurt more than I thought but less than it should. Thank you, rai.”

  Nadyha’s lip curled derisively. Gage said, “You’re welcome, ma’am.” To Nadyha he said, “After you take care of that wound, you’re going to need to splint her lower leg. Do you need me to help with a splint?”

  “No, my brother Niçu can make that when he comes back. He’s out fishing,” she said heavily, and Gage knew she meant to communicate to him that there was capable man in the camp. As if she needed protection, he thought dryly.

  Mirella came in, carrying a small iron pot with a handle. As she entered, the most delightful scent Gage had ever experienced filled his nostrils. It was a heavily sweet fragrance, but it had a subtle spicy, piquant aroma interweaving the sweetness. He had never smelled anything like it, and somehow it made him think of the Far East, of deserts and oases and turbanned men. “What is that?” he half-whispered, inhaling deeply.

  Simza’s eyes were still closed, but she inhaled and a small smile played around her severe mouth. “Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart,” she whispered.

  “It’s elachi, Grains of Paradise,” Nadyha told Gage. “It’s very rare, and precious. The gaje call it cardamom.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Gage murmured, “but I’ll never forget it.”

  He started to turn toward the door but from her bed Simza said, “Av akai, rai.”

  “That means, ‘come here,’” Nadhya interpreted, then added with some disdain, “‘sir.’”

  Gage went to Simza’s bedside and she held out both her hands. He took them in his own.

  Quietly she said, “Devlesa avilan.”

  Nadyha told him, “This is an old Gypsy greeting. It means, ‘It is God who brought you.’”

  “How do I answer?” Gage asked.

  “The answer is, ‘It is with God that I found you.’” Then she slowly said the Romany words.

  Gage looked at Simza and smiled. “Devlesa araklam tume, Miss Simza. I’ll pray that God will bless you, keep you, and heal you, ma’am.”

  He left the wagon, with Mirella and Nadyha talking rapidly in low tones in Gypsy. Going down the steps, again he eyed the big cat who watched him unblinkingly. Looking around, he stared at the bear, who seemed to have fallen asleep sitting up. The hawk was gone, and so was the black cat. And Cayenne was nowhere to be seen.

  Sighing, he started toward the path they’d followed into the camp. He’d almost reached the treeline when he heard Nadyha call out, “Gajo, av akai!”

  I already speak Gypsy, I know that means “come here, you,” Gage reflected wryly, and turned back.

  She hurried to stand in front of him, her hands propped on her hips. “Baba Simza says we owe you a debt. What can we do to repay you?” She was defensive and defiant.

  Seeing her standing there, slim and tall, the unusual beauty of her face lit by the blazing sun, her head held high and proudly, Gage reflected that she had probably had male attention showered on her for a while now, and from what he’d seen of her he thought that most, if not all of it, had been wholly unwelcome. Carelessly he replied, “Well, you could tell me where my horse is, or if that cougar has eaten him. He looks pretty well-fed.”

  “He is a she, and her name is Anca,” Nadyha said with exasperation, “and as much as I love her, I wouldn’t let her eat a horse. He’s tied up right over there, behind my brother’s wagon, see?” Now Gage saw Cayenne, who was contentedly crunching on some tall yellow things that looked like flat sticks, stuck in a bucket. At his puzzled expression, Nadyha said, “It’s pasta. Do you never feed him pasta? Horses love it, and it’s good for them. I put a piece of sugarcane in there too, but he’s already eaten it, the greedy piglet.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Gage said. “I’ll be going now.”

  Now she spoke in a courteous, sincere tone. “Wait, gajo. Baba Simza isn’t joking, and neither am I. We owe you, and I must know how to repay you.”

  He answered evenly, “Ma’am, I helped you, I mean Miss Simza, because she needed help and I had it to give. There is no debt, so there is no repayment.”

  She said flatly, “We have money.”

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” Gage said coldly.

  After a slight hesitation, softly she said, “I see. My name is Nadyha. Simza is my grandmother. You should call her Baba Simza, it’s a term of respect, but with—with—some affection. She’d like that.”

  “If we have the pleasure of meeting again, Miss Nady
ha, I’ll sure call her Baba Simza.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Gage Kennon.”

  For the first time he saw her smile, a joyous, childlike, spontaneous widening of her generous lips. “Your name is Gage? How do you spell it?”

  “Hm? Uh—G-A-G-E. Actually, my name is Gabriel, but when I was just small—”

  He stopped talking because now she was laughing, a warm, low-pitched pleasing sound. “Your name is gah-jay. Oh, that’s funny. You’re the only person that’s ever had the guts to actually admit it,” she giggled.

  “Yeah, I’ve kinda gathered that gage isn’t exactly a term of endearment,” Gage said dryly.

  “No, it’s what we call all non-Romany peoples. Mostly we don’t like them, that’s why we make it sound that way. By the way, the gaje call us Gypsies, but that’s not what we are, we just let the fools call us that because it shows their ignorance. We are Romany, or Rom. Anyway, I won’t call you gajo or gaje, I’ll call you Gage, because you were kind to Baba Simza,” she said decidedly. “Tell me, Gage, isn’t there some way we can help you? Food, or cloth, or tools, or something for cooking, maybe?”

  Gage’s eyes lit up. “Well, ma’am, there may be something you can do for me, or for a friend of mine. We’re camped about a mile from here, on the other side of the spring. He’s real sick. I was on my way to New Orleans to see if I could find an apothecary that might give me some medicine for him. But you seem to know something about medicines and tonics. If you know of something that might help him, he and I both would be grateful to you.”

  Nadyha considered for a long time, staring at Gage with no trace of self-consciousness. She was weighing him, he thought, and he wondered if he would pass whatever tests were running through her mind.

  Finally she said, “Go get your friend, and bring him here. I know medicines, I’m a good drabengri.”

  Gage was amazed at the offer; it was the last thing he had expected from this rather hostile girl. But he said, “I don’t know if I should do that, ma’am. My friend has measles, and it’s catching. Have you all had measles? All of your people here?”

  “There are only four of us here,” she said quietly. “And we’ve all had measles. Bring your friend here, Gage. Baba Simza would want you to.”

  “And you, Nadyha?” Gage asked quietly.

  Her chin came up again, but she answered warmly, “I want you to bring him here, too, Gage. He needs help, and I have it to give.”

  GAGE PUT DENNY IN the saddle and jumped up to ride behind him. Cayenne would do fine with them riding double for a mile and a half or so. Denny lolled to the side, and Gage put his arm around his waist to hold him, and held the reins in his left hand. He could feel fever-heat radiating off Denny. Just then he coughed so hard he would have fallen off if Gage hadn’t been holding him so tightly.

  “This is the best camp I’ve ever seen, Denny,” he said comfortingly. “I know you’re miserable, but when we get settled there you’re going to be so much better.”

  “You say it’s Gypsies?” Denny mumbled. “I thought all they did was tell fortunes, and steal stuff, and then run off to do their scamming on the next bunch of dolts.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I don’t think these are those kind of Gypsies. The old woman, Baba Simza, quoted the Bible to me, so unless I’m real mixed up, or they’re real mixed up, I doubt she has much to do with nonsense like fortune-telling. Anyway, this Nadyha, she’s some kind of herb woman, I guess you’d call her.”

  “And you said she’s pretty?” Denny said a little more alertly.

  “I think I said she’s bug-your-eyes-out-beautiful,” Gage answered airily. Then he cautioned Denny, “But don’t let on you think so. Don’t even act like you notice her looks.”

  “Huh? That doesn’t make any sense, women always want you to go on and on about ’em, how pretty they are, how nice their hair looks, how their ears look like perfect shells even if they stick out like an elephant’s, how their waist is so small, blah-de-blah-de blah blah blah.”

  “Not this one, she’s kind of a no-nonsense girl. And she carries a knife, a long, sharp one.”

  “Oh. And you said she has a cougar? You mean, a real one?”

  “No, an imaginary one,” Gage said smartly. “Yeah, it’s a real cougar. And a bear. And a hawk. And a black cat with one ear and one eye.”

  “You forgot to tell me about the cat before,” Denny said blearily. He started coughing again, and it pained Gage to feel him convulsing so hard. His whole body shook with the deep hacking. When the spasms stopped, Denny fell limply back against Gage, in a swoon.

  “We’ll be there soon, Billy Yank,” Gage whispered. “You just hang on. I think Miss Nadyha’s going to help you, I really do.”

  Thinking of her, the words came back to Gage: Devlesa avilan, It is God who brought you. Devlesa araklam tume, It is with God that I found you.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gage didn’t quite know what to do when he and Denny arrived at the Gypsy camp. He heard low murmurs of voices from Baba Simza’s wagon, and he was sure that Nadyha and the other woman were still attending her. Denny’s fainting spell had passed, but he was still so weak he was leaning back heavily against Gage. Gage thought that if he dismounted, Denny might just tumble off the horse.

  Denny was staring around in amazement and Gage took time now to study the Gypsy camp more closely. On their right, looming behind the bright wagons, the tall woods closed in—oak, cypress, water elm, dogwoods, tupelo. All of the undergrowth, the vines and shrubs and briars and scrub pines had been cleared away. Gage saw three distinct paths leading into the woods behind the wagons.

  The hawk was back on his perch, glaring at them. The bear was lying on a fat, brightly colored cushion, snoring slightly. Anca, the cougar, was lying under Nadyha’s wagon in a bed of slightly taller and thicker undergrowth than the mint carpet of the campsite. She raised her head to look at them when they arrived, but then yawned dismissively and laid back down. A movement caught Gage’s eye, and he saw the black cat on top of the nearest wagon, looking down at them with one baleful yellow eye.

  Ahead of them, past the circular clearing with the campfire in the center, was more close forest, but for the first time Gage saw that a sizable lean-to was built slightly back into the woods, made of cypress wood with a tin roof. In the deep shadows inside he saw an armorer’s forge and boxes, baskets, stands of reeds, folded-up cane chairs, and built-in shelves filled with jars and tin containers.

  On their left was the great willow tree, short, with great spreading branches that almost touched the ground. The “weeping” leaves were so thick that seeing the trunk of it was impossible. Tall oaks soared above it, and Gage thought that here was a good place for him and Denny to situate their blanket rolls. It was in the camp, but a discreet distance away from the wagons (and the animals) and the mint carpet ran right up to the woodline. He made a snicking noise and touched the reins, and Cayenne crossed the camp, his eyes showing white at the nearby cougar, even though she could hardly be seen under the wagon in the thick green growth.

  Gage dismounted, and sure enough, Denny leaned precariously over and Gage half-assisted, half-lifted him down from the horse. He started coughing, and Gage sat him down with his back to one of the oaks, then quickly made up a pallet for him with the oilcloth and tent. He was studying how to make him a pillow when Nadyha came out of Baba Simza’s wagon and walked over to them. She was dressed in the same plain, shapeless blouse and tattered skirt, with the wide belt and knife at her side. She had pulled her hair back severely and tied it with a green ribbon. She stopped, frowning with ill temper as she stared at Denny.

  “He’s a Blue Beast?” she demanded of Gage. “You didn’t tell me that. Are you?” She looked him up and down accusingly. Gage’s uniform shirt with his insignia was made of wool, and he hadn’t worn it for weeks. He was wearing a plain white homespun shirt, and his wide-brimmed floppy hat whose only adornment was a black leather band. His breeches were his uniform
breeches, gray with the infantry blue stripe down the side, but Gage doubted if Nadyha knew about Confederate gray.

  Denny was wearing Gage’s red Zouave shirt and pantaloons; Gage hadn’t put on his gaiters and brogans for the simple reason that Denny could hardly take two steps, and they had ridden to the camp. But he was wearing his forage cap, Union dark blue with captain’s insignia on it. Apparently Nadyha did understand that color.

  Denny was trying to rise to his feet and was trying to talk, but he coughed so hard he collapsed back down against the tree, clutching his side.

  Gage answered her, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you he was a Union soldier, ma’am, it just didn’t occur to me. He’s discharged now, anyway. And, no ma’am, I’m—was a Confederate soldier.”

  She stared at him with her mysterious glass-green gaze. “And you’re taking care of him? This—this gam’i choro? He’s your jostumal, your enemy!”

  “He was my enemy, in the war. Now he’s not. But I understand if you don’t want to help him. I’ll go ahead and take him into town. I sure didn’t mean to offend you, Miss Nadyha.”

  She looked at Denny, who looked pitiful indeed. His skin was covered with the lurid red spots, he had lost weight and looked thin and haggard. He said in a painfully hoarse whisper, “Sorry, ma’am. We’ll go,” was all he could manage.

  Nadyha seemed to come to a decision. “No. Baba Simza told me to take good care of your friend, Gage. She’s wise, and understands and sees things. You stay, gajo,” she said to Denny.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said tiredly.

  Looking at the pallet Gage had prepared, Nadyha prodded it disdainfully with her toe. “It’ll do for now, while I see him. Lie down here, gajo,” she instructed Denny. Gage helped him and said, “I had made a grass pillow for him, but I haven’t had time to get one together here yet.” Gage laid Denny down flat on his back, whipping off the offending cap.

  Nadyha knelt down by him and made a disgusted face. “This lalo shirt, take it off, Gage.”