by Tracy Falbe
She petted the fur over his shoulder. Her fingers moved through the lovely luxury of the dense coat. The slight pressure of her fingers made him hold his breath.
“Is it really wolf?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you kill it yourself?” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
“You can’t remember,” she said.
“I remember more every day,” he said but had little wish to talk about himself. “I notice Emerald keeps you busy.”
Medina laughed. “No one would know what to do without Emerald to tell them. She takes good care of me.”
“Is she your mother?” he asked.
“The most mother I’ve ever known. She says she found me on the side of the road, but I don’t know if that’s true,” Medina explained.
“It seems Gypsies find lots of people,” Thal said.
“We’re not so quick to judge as village folk,” she said.
“I’m grateful for the help. You don’t have to fetch things for me anymore, even if Emerald asks. I can see to myself now,” he said.
“I don’t mind,” Medina said.
Thal believed her.
She kicked off her shoes. Daintily she trotted to the riverbank. Holding up her smock and skirt, she waded into the water.
“That cools me off,” she declared. “This is the first truly warm day. Maybe it’ll be a hot summer.”
She gathered up her skirt into one hand. Her knees and bare thighs above the flowing water entranced Thal. She bent over and washed her face with one hand and then flicked water up at him. The drops hit the trail by his feet.
“Come in. You wouldn’t be so warm if you didn’t keep that fur on,” she said.
Thal had not really thought about that. He draped the fur over the firewood and came down the bank. He sat on a thick tree root, slipped off his sandals, and wiggled his toes in the water.
“That’s nice,” he said.
Medina sloshed over to him. “What happened at the monastery?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re not a very good liar,” she chided.
“We didn’t get beer. That’s the truth,” he said.
“Someone will bring strong drink tonight and trade a little with Andreli,” Medina predicted.
“What does Andreli have to trade?” Thal wondered.
“This and that,” Medina said and rocked her shoulders.
She leaned close, seeming to expect something from him, but when a bemused Thal did nothing, she slogged out of the water. “I better get going. I have to change my clothes and comb my hair for tonight. I’ll be dancing,” she said.
“Dancing?”
Medina tossed her hips. “Will you watch me?”
He nodded. She scrambled up to the trail and he followed her. She put a hand on him to keep her balance while she put her shoes back on. Thal retrieved his fur. Medina glimpsed the inside and grabbed its edge.
“It does have words,” she said.
Thal eased it out of her small hand. “Everyone must talk about me all the time,” he said.
“You’re very mysterious,” she explained, unashamed of the gossiping.
“I don’t mean to be,” he said.
“Will you read it to me?” she asked.
The way she batted her eyelashes intrigued him, but the meaning of the signal eluded him.
“I’ll carry your wood,” he said and hoisted both bundles, one in each arm.
“Thanks,” Medina said and started down the trail. She chattered to him pleasantly. While walking behind her, he daydreamed about the contours of her body hidden beneath the loose clothes.
When they got back to camp they delivered the wood to Emerald’s area. Medina climbed into the back of the wagon and started rummaging around. Emerald was sitting on a big rug with two women from the nearby village. Sapling poles held a faded canopy over them. One woman was older with a bent back and narrow shoulders. Next to her was a plump rosy-cheeked lady with a swollen belly. They were deeply involved in their conversation and did not look up.
Thal recalled that he was supposed to avoid attention so he sat down a discreet distance away. He observed them slyly. Emerald sometimes flourished her hands and touched her temple. Then she started waving her hands slowly over the woman’s belly.
Thal gathered that she was pregnant. He recalled the big bellies of his mates before pups were born, but he pushed away the image. After only a few days in his man-form some memories from his wolf life were feeling weird. His human mind was asserting itself. He supposed that was why the young female had been so interesting.
The village women concluded their meeting. They gave Emerald a basket with yarn and two loaves of bread. They seemed well pleased with whatever she had told them. Emerald tucked her gifts into the back of her wagon and then climbed into it to take a nap.
Thal crept away from the camp. In a sunny spot where an old tree had died, he took out his fur and opened it on his lap. The blood lettering was grim in the bright sunshine. Recalling the sounds the priest had given some of the symbols, he labored to sound the rest of the words out. Gradually more of the letters reignited in his mind. He was literate after all, and he quietly whispered the words. As he gained confidence that he was pronouncing them correctly, he read them aloud again.
They became more familiar to Thal each time he read them. Finally his memories buzzed to life like a shaken hive of bees. From the depths of his mind the voice of his father took over the reading. Thal remembered his father chanting the words in a specific rhythm. Thal’s lips stopped moving and his skin went cold as the past consumed his consciousness.
The icy glow of a full moon illuminated the sky. Tall pines black against the night framed the moon. Their boughs creaked in the wind. Thal was strapped naked across a cold slab of stone. The moonlight twisted down the trees like frosted lightning. He had been given something to drink. Some nasty potion of his father’s brewing, but he had taken it willingly. Thal’s father lifted the fur over him on the secret altar. The fresh blood ink still glistened. His father’s chanting became more strident until he was only howling. Then the howls of many wolves erupted. The fluffy beasts filled the spaces between the trees. Their shining eyes encircled the altar like a swarm of fireflies.
A raven screeched and Thal gasped. His awareness returned to the sunny spot beside the Gypsy camp. The raven cawed again and hopped around the bare weathered branches of the dead tree.
Thal touched his chest. His heart was hammering. The memories had been terrifying.
“Thank you friend raven,” he said to the bird, grateful that it had snapped him out of the intense flashback.
It cawed modestly and flapped down to the ground near his feet.
“I’ve nothing for you,” Thal said.
The bird’s piercing black eyes regarded him seriously.
Thal gestured to the lettering on the wolf skin. “What do you think? Should I rid myself of this like the man of God suggested?” he said.
The bird stayed silent.
Thal ran a hand over the fur. He was certain now that it was crucial to transforming him into a wolf. It was the only explanation for why it had been at his side after he had returned to his man-form. But why had his father changed him? HOW had his father changed him? Did Thal want to change back? That question was at the heart of the matter. He was growing to like his new body. He especially liked his hands. Being around people excited him. There was so much to learn and do. He had mastered life in the forest and perhaps it was time that he did new things.
“But I’m not just a man am I?” he said.
The raven cackled and flew back into the tree.
Thal went back to studying the words his father had written. He still could not recall where his father had lived, but he distinctly remembered living with his mother near Prague. Thal resolved to ask Andreli how to get there. He must go look for her. She might have answers.
“Thal? Thal?”
> Andreli was calling him. Thal liked being wanted. He waved to the raven and left his hiding spot.
Andreli spotted him when he emerged into the worn ground of the camp.
“There you are. I have a question for you. Do you know anything of playing cards?” he said.
Thal’s blank look did not surprise him. “Worry not. We’ll teach you primero,” he said and gestured for Thal to follow. They settled on a thick rug with exotic patterns with Petro and another man named Sal.
Andreli said, “I’ve got an important way for you to help us.”
“Good,” Thal said. He watched Sal slide a stack of rigid decorated papers out of a cloth sack.
Andreli continued, “The roads will be busier with the warmer weather. Once the moon starts filling up we can expect more visitors at night. We’ll teach you to play primero because sometimes we need an extra man to get a game going. And well, to be honest, some of the local fellows are getting wary of playing with us, but a new face will get them playing again because that’s what they really want to do anyway.”
“But you asked me to stay out of the way,” Thal reminded.
Andreli shrugged, dismissing his cautious attitude. “Where’s the profit in that? All hands on deck to lift the sails as a Venetian sailor would say, right?”
“As you wish,” Thal said.
Sal spread all the cards out face up on the rug and explained them. Thal scanned the pictures stenciled in bright colors. He easily memorized the look of the kings, queens, jacks, and aces. The others were simply numbers two through seven. He understood the symbols for the suits readily, but once Sal dealt out the cards and they played a hand, the game became quite mystifying. Andreli shared Thal’s hand and explained to him what to do. He placed bets and then more bets and the other men did the same or sometimes dropped out of the hand. Eventually two of them got to a showdown and the hand with the highest score won the coins that had been wagered. After about ten hands Thal was grasping the basics of scoring although he gathered that the betting was a bit of fine art.
When they took a break from the lesson, Andreli explained that Thal was to tell other people that he was a wanderer from Prague.
“He’ll need a last name,” Sal noted gruffly.
“Yes, I suppose people will ask about your surname. Let me guess, you don’t remember,” Andreli said.
“Lesky.” Thal answered so readily that Andreli gaped in shock.
Petro laughed. “Ha, ha, ‘from the forest.’ A nice choice, Thal,” he said.
Thal grinned to him agreeably. He was rather pleased with it himself.
Andreli slapped Thal’s back. “Thal Lesky from Prague it is,” he said. He gave Thal a handful of coins. “Your stake. And don’t be afraid to lose,” he explained.
“Lose?” Thal wondered.
“Petro and Sal can concentrate on winning it back plus hopefully everything else from our guests. But you need to get them excited about playing,” Andreli advised.
Thal grasped the concept. He must lure the prey into a false success so that they did not see the true threat.
“I think we best practice some more,” Thal said.
“Of course. Here, Sal give him the cards and let him practice dealing. Remember as dealer you start the betting,” Andreli said.
Thal felt clumsy with the cards at first, but his nimble fingers soon gained some competence. He enjoyed the interesting portraits on the cards and the sense of expectation and occasional delight created by their random distribution to the players. He was slow at adding his score and determining his bids, but repeated efforts kindled better mathematical ability.
Andreli commented that his bluntness with numbers was a nice touch for his persona.
At dusk they broke up their practice session. The first quarter moon brightened the balmy spring evening, and Thal looked forward anxiously to what the night would bring.
******
Three young men from the village ventured first into the Gypsy camp. They did not seem to have any particular aim except to gossip. Thal lounged near Andreli’s fire. After the men sauntered by for a second time, he asked his host if he should invite them to play primero.
“No. Those bumpkins couldn’t get a copper between them if they had a fairy godmother to cheat,” Andreli grumbled. “They’re just hoping something will cook up here and they can enjoy some free entertainment.”
Thal glanced at the moon. The young crescent only had a couple hours left in the sky. Then he heard horses on the road.
“Someone’s coming,” he said.
Andreli did not hear anything but then the dogs started barking. He took note of how keen Thal’s senses were.
After running his fingers through his hair, Andreli put his hat on. He stroked the peacock feather in the hat for luck and stood up.
“Riders could be men from Rosenberg castle,” he said hopefully. He gestured for Thal to stay behind.
Petro and Andreli greeted the newcomers at the edge of camp. Boys rushed up to take the horses. They were fine animals with good tack, but one shied unexpectedly when it was led past Thal. The horse snorted and its wide eyes lolled at Thal. The boy held on and tugged the horse away.
“Come meet our other guest. It appears he was admiring your horses,” Andreli said, guiding the new visitors toward Thal.
Thal faced them. They were strong men with quality clothes and nice weapons. Good swords and knives advertised their ability to finish fights, and the one with a paunch had a pistol in his belt. He had a touch of gray in his beard and thick locks of sandy hair cascaded from beneath his hat. His companion was bare faced with darker hair. Both of them looked over Thal with the critical eyes of locals inspecting an interloper.
“This is Jan Bradcek guard captain at the castle,” Andreli introduced.
“Pleased to meet you. I am Thal Lesky of Prague.” Thal said.
Jan raised an eyebrow. “Prague? What brings you so far from home?” he asked.
“A pilgrimage to Rome,” Thal said.
Andreli twinkled with amusement. Thal impressed him more each day.
Jan chuckled and looked at his friend. “On a pilgrimage by yourself?” he asked, finding the statement boldly incredulous.
“You may join me if you please,” Thal said.
“I don’t get paid enough to visit the holy city,” Jan grumped.
“I myself have only a small inheritance to squander and thought I would see a bit of the world with it,” Thal explained.
Andreli loved it.
“Well, I suppose you’ve seen a bit of Bohemia at least,” Jan commented.
Andreli cleared his throat so he could finish the introductions. “And with our esteemed captain is Lucas Gardenzy.”
The two men nodded to each other.
“Thal only just joined us. I thought you’d be entertained to see a new face. I’m so glad you came back. I’d feared you’d decided we were boring,” Andreli said.
“A man’s face is not what I came to see,” Jan said, but to Thal he added, “Not that I’m saying you’re not nice looking.”
Lucas chuckled like it was an inside joke.
Andreli called for music. A drummer and two pipers emerged from the shadows. The three men from the village cheered their arrival.
Andreli spread a nice rug by his fire for the captain and his companion, and everyone sat down, except the uninvited serf lads. After a look from Jan, Lucas flipped open his sack and drew out two crockery bottles.
“A little birdie told me you’re thirsty, Andreli,” Jan said.
“Parched, truly,” the Gypsy lord agreed readily. “But I’ll venture that the little birdie was flightless as a farmer’s goose and sings at the monastery.”
Jan unstoppered a bottle as a boy scurried forth with cups. “Why that monk is so charitable toward you I can’t imagine,” Jan said. He poured for everyone.
Andreli raised his drink in sincere appreciation. “I thank you Captain for your most kind delivery, and let me remind
you why you enjoy our hospitality,” Andreli said.
One his cue the music changed tempo and three dancing girls slinked out. Tambourines jingled in their hands. Their arms and shoulders were bare. Bright cloth bound their torsos and bright beads sewn into their bodices reflected the firelight.
Thal saw Medina. A loose wispy skirt fluttered around her thighs and she swayed beautifully with the music like a flag on a balmy breeze.
She did not meet Thal’s intense gaze. She focused on the guard captain. Her eyes flashed at him after every spin. Her long wavy hair spun around her shoulders. She stayed perfectly in step with her dancing partners, and they created a fascinating female synergy.
The men drank to Andreli’s toast. Thal looked at his beer. It was foamy and smelled grainy. He drank and reflected on the flavor.
“What think you of our local brew, Lesky?” Jan said.
“Very good,” Thal said and drank some more. As it dispersed through his stomach, he felt a little more relaxed. Liking the feeling, he drank some more. The effect surprisingly helped him not mind that Medina was not looking at him.
The women circled close to the men around the fire and then moved back. In and out they came and went as the men emptied their cups and conquered the second bottle.
Flushed from their opening act, the dancers took a break. One of the musicians started singing a ballad, and many in the camp gathered to listen.
At Andreli’s fire, a few ribald jokes were exchanged and the laughter was pleasant. Feeling the ice to be well broken, Jan said, “Lesky, our friend Brother Ondrej said he met you today.”
Alarm scampered along Thal’s dulled nerves. The monk might have blabbed all kinds of startling stories. Thal resisted his urge to touch his fine fur.
Jan continued, “He didn’t mention anything about your pilgrimage to Rome.”
“It did not come up,” Thal said.
Andreli offered, “Ondrej had some wild ideas about my guest that rightly made him uncomfortable. The good brother’s imagination was all ablaze after a recent visit by Jesuits.”
“I can understand that,” Jan said and drained his cup. The Jesuits who had passed through had stimulated the Rosenberg household as well.
Still hoping to inoculate the captain from suspicion, Andreli said, “Thal has a family heirloom with code writing. Ondrej called it devilry and Thal took offense but excused himself instead of losing his temper among holy men.”