Chapter I.

How It All Started

Believe it or not, me and my gang didn't always live in Paris, in the Court of Miracles. We weren't always gypsies either.

I, along with my brothers and sisters: Heidi, Jasmine and Ramus were born in Constantinople, in Turkey. The city is also called Istanbul. Our mother was a traveler from Spain, who married our Turkish dad. Then after the crusades, they were both killed. But I still remember those golden days in Turkey. Ramus and I would go fishing at the docks all day and bring home our catch that we were so proud of. Usually they were skimpy little mackerels or baby stingrays, but every once in a while we'd catch something big like a tuna or a barracuda.

Every night, we would sit around the fireplace of our small little stone house. Our dog Wolfen would sleep by our feet and we would listen to our father tell stories. Those were the good days. But they were not to last. After the crusades, both our parents were killed.

"Julian, what's happening?" my little sister Heidi was wailing. Outside our home, soldiers were killing everyone in sight, and burning down homes.

"Ramus," my father called, "get your younger siblings to safety. We're not all going to make it out alive. Your mother and I will stay here to keep them at bay, just get Julian, Heidi and Jasmine out of here."

Ramus was the oldest of us all. And he would never disobey my father's orders, not even in a time like this.

So, he gathered us all up and after giving both our parents goodbye one last time, we evacuated our house, through a back window. I remember that in that house, there was a secret hall that led to an underground tunnel and ended in an alley. Hurriedly, Ramus rushed us along, though Heidi was screaming about our parents.

"Ramus, what's going to happen to mama and papa?" she bawled.

"They'll be fine," Ramus lied to her. He obviously didn't want to break the bad news to her to soon, especially when he could barely take it himself. But I knew exactly what was going on.

When we reached the end of the tunnel, we could see the glow of the fire, illuminating the city's shadowed streets. People were screaming everywhere. I remember seeing a pair of soldiers beating a poor woman, while her young child lay screaming on the pavement nearby.

"We have to get out of here before we end up like that," Ramus told us, ushering us out of the alleyway, toward the docks that led out to sea.

"Ramus, why are those mean people doing those things?" Heidi asked.

Ramus bit his lip, because Heidi was to young to know about these things.

"We're in a war," Jasmine answered her. "And apparently those people are against us. They want to kill us because of that."

Heidi didn't say anything, as we quickly fled.

The last thing I remember after that terrible night was when a kind man at the docks lent us a small boat for us to escape in.

"No charge," he said, with a hint a sorrow of in his voice. He seemed to know that by the time this night was over he would no longer be alive to ever need money or a house again.

Looking at him sadly, Jasmine, Heidi, Ramus, our dog Wolfen and I all stepped into the boat, and pushed away from the dock. Ramus grabbed the oars and pushed us out into the Bosporus.

I didn't sleep a wink that night. The place that had been my childhood home was now burning before me, like the fires of hell. It even seemed like that place, with the eerie wailing, screaming and shouting, heard among the crackling of the flames.

Jasmine, who was the second oldest, (I being thirteen at that age, was the third oldest, and of course Heidi at age nine was the youngest) cried softly as we drifted along in the boat. Even Wolfen seemed to know that what was happening was not good. He joined in with Jasmine by howling mournfully.

To this day, I will remember that night as the worst of my existence.

Early that morning, after sleeping for a no more than an hour and a half in the boat, I awoke to find that we were washed ashore. The minarets, towers, mosques and cathedrals of Istanbul were no where sight. The city was far behind us, burning to the ground, no doubt.

But the shore here was different, it was rocky and there were date palms and poplars growing in the hills farther inland.

"Where are we?" I asked Ramus. He was the only one of us had ever left the city. At age fifteen, he had traveled to Greece.

"Are we in Greece," I asked him.

Ramus didn't answer, just shrugged.

"I don't know where we are," he replied. "But we can't be far from the city. And that means the soldiers who killed mom and dad are nearby. We have to leave this place as soon as possible. I'm guessing we're in somewhere in Turkey, or maybe Greece. We should travel North, because the Crusaders are going south, to the Holy Land. We have to be out of there way."

And that was the start of our journey. Our journey that would eventually lead us from Istanbul to Paris, France somewhere along the way.

Ok, kind of violent I know, and not very historically accurate, but it is rated T and it is Fiction. I'll try to update every weekend, but I'm pretty busy, so we'll see how that goes. Thanks for reading. Please review. After someone reads, I'm going to take this footnote off. Thanks!