5.10.18
Road of Blood, pt 2.
I doubt I took a breath while I waited for The Shadow to return. Never had I placed my trust in anyone, which left me unable to truly comprehend what I had done. Within the span of no more than three or four minutes, I considered every possibly scenario from my father hunting me down to a traveling fair of oddities looking to add one more freak to their display. I had seen such attractions several times in the summer, but not for long in our village as the gypsies were always run out immediately, far before my father could strike up a conversation and sell me.
No, I told myself, my uncle wouldn't betray me. If only I could believe my new-found mantra. Trust him, believe him. We were related. We were a tribe. Surely he would protect one of his own. He said his wife would have liked me. Loved me, even. He was a good man, the best I had ever known. He would watch over me, teach me of the world that was still so new and frightening.
Quiet as I could, I placed my mask over my face and felt along my cheeks and forehead to make certain it was properly in place. As my eyes adjusted, I sat up and listened to the murmur of voices. Either they spoke too low for me to hear or they were speaking a language I didn't understand as I could not make out what was said. It didn't matter. Moreso than ever I was terrified of what would happen—not only to me, but to my uncle who confronted them alone.
I reminded myself that he had kept three men at bay on the shoreline, however, those three men were drunken fools. From what I could hear I was certain there were at least a half-dozen people, possibly more. We were far from outnumbered, and my feet were still quite useless.
There was no rope in sight, which further alarmed me. I knew I could tie a knot and I had no doubt I could ensnare one individual, but again, I was no match for more than one. Even if I did happen to catch one person by the wrists, there would be others waiting.
The most I was capable of doing was waiting to die.
The Shadow suddenly appeared through the trees and grinned. "Look what I found. Strawberries," he said jovially before I could reply. "They are looking for a place to stop for the night. I offered to help them fish and trade spices and supplies in exchange for help should there be unsavory characters sharing the road this evening."
My mouth watered as he showed me a handful of plump, red strawberries. I licked my lips in anticipation. It had been a long time since I had stumbled upon wild berries near my parents' home. Strawberries were one of the best delicacies I found on my secret adventures from the cellar. They reminded me of freedom.
"Stay here," he instructed. He handed me three and popped the fourth into his mouth. He smiled and crouched down beside me. "They're gypsies, very suspicious of everything." He met my eye and paused, his voice lowered. "I've told them these marks you hide are from your father. That is all they need to know."
I nodded even though I didn't completely understand what he meant.
"I see they have several children with them. The company will do us both good, especially you. A boy needs young companions, not an old man."
With a firm squeeze to my shoulder he stood and lumbered through the brush. One by one, torches appeared through a screen of bushes and leaning trees. It was no longer just the two of us. There were many faces, many pairs of eyes staring at me with brows furrowed and lips straight and hardened. The look of concern and uncertainty was evident. They didn't care for me, and I feared what they were capable of doing to me.
Swallowing, I drew my knees to my chest and recoiled. Still, they stepped closer until a line of men, women, and children had formed in front of me, a wall of consternation. I stared at the fire, my anxiety gripped tight around my heart like a fist. My breathing turned labored, my nerves prickling as they unabashedly gawked at me and whispered to one another. They were verbally picking me apart, I knew, even if I could not understand what they said to one another.
"Erik," The Shadow called out. "Introduce yourself."
I didn't move. My contact with others was limited to my parents and now my uncle. An entire fleet of strangers overwhelmed me and I refused to look at them or speak. I did not want to be on display for their amusement or speculation.
"Disease," an old woman hissed. She waved a dismissive hand and turned away. "Beware both the yellow-eyed man and the scarred child."
The Shadow returned as the old woman made the sign of the cross. "If you fear us, then you have every right to continue down the road, friends. We have no desire to pack our camp yet, and there are plenty of trees and ferns for you to call your home this evening. Do as you please. We will not disturb you."
He walked to me and handed me more strawberries, ignoring the whispers I found magnified in my ears. "Eat. They have received ample explanation. I will give them nothing more."
When I looked him in the eye I noticed how exhausted he appeared. I wondered if we would depart late in the night. Secretly I wished to leave at once but I couldn't bear to stand, much less walk.
"Would you like to fish?" he questioned.
I nodded because I wanted to help him and I didn't want to be alone with the gypsies. He helped me to my feet, and together we returned to the stream and the same rock where we had sat earlier. Wisely I saved one of the bigger strawberries for later. I wanted to savor it, my treasure.
The gypsies ventured further down the road, for which I was glad. From the corner of my eye I watched their children scramble after each other and splash through the water. The younger boys stripped naked, dove into the stream, and tossed rocks into the water, much to the aggravation of their mothers.
I noticed they stayed upstream from us as though they feared we would contaminate the water. Eventually they returned to their camp, and the night was cool and peaceful. The Shadow went in search of morel mushrooms but promised he would stay near should I need him. He left me with both packs and told me to guard them well. With a wink to me and his cane in hand, he shuffled through the trees and disappeared out of sight.
After a while I sat back and closed my eyes. Fish eluded me, and I lost interest in catching them. The ripple of water and a symphony of unseen crickets put me at ease. My feet felt better and I decided to test my legs. Eyes still closed, I stretched out my feet and wiggled my toes.
I was bored of sitting in one place and attempted to stand on my own, but the moment I put my full weight onto both feet, pain seared through me and I fell hard onto the rock. I cursed under my breath just as a young woman perhaps a year or two older than me walked toward me. I wasn't sure if she was more startled to see me or if I was more startled to see her.
Turning away, I hugged the packs to my chest. My heart had started to pound, my muscles bunched. I sat frozen and hoped she would continue on her way without looking at me.
"Is it true?" she questioned, her voice soft and low. "Are you cursed?"
Without looking at her I shook my head. I wasn't cursed. I was damned.
"Pass silver over my palm and I will tell your fortune."
I looked at her suddenly, my curiosity piqued. The moonlight revealed her long features with dark eyes, olive skin, thick lips, and hair that had not been cut straight, which looked somewhat like a mane. She reminded me of a horse. "Pass silver?"
She nodded and extended her hand as she stood over me. I didn't know what to do, so I merely stared at her.
"Haven't you any silver?"
"N-no," I stammered.
She frowned and shifted her weight. "Anything of value?"
My eyes widened. Quite proudly I showed her the last strawberry.
"Anyone can pick those."
"Then go pick one yourself."
She hesitated. Unexpectedly she reached for the strawberry and popped it in her mouth. I was too stunned to say a word. The little imp had stolen what was mine.
As swiftly as I wanted to push her in the water I was disarmed. She crouched beside me, grasped my hand and spread my fingers.
"Veeery interesting," she cooed.
I was fascinated beyond words or thought. Mouth agape, I watched her cradle my hand. She looked into my eyes and smiled thinly. Her index finger traced a line from the center of my hand to my smallest finger without her ever breaking eye contact.
My man's body outsmarted my child's mind. One simple touch had awakened me and I drew my knees up toward my chest to hide my arousal. I didn't think she was particularly beautiful or enticing, but her touch was more than enough. I was unaccustomed to such gentleness that it didn't matter what she looked like. It fascinated me in ways I had never felt before from the flutter in my stomach to the sudden gallop of my heart. I did not want her to touch me, and yet I hoped she would not yet release my hand.
"This is the head line. Look at how it sweeps down. You are very creative, no?"
I nodded. She knew me. I was certain. The way her fingertip brushed against my palm left me breathless and confused. For all of the harshness I had experienced, the odd zip through my belly was a welcomed change.
She seemed satisfied with my answer and glanced at her own hand. There was a crescent moon painted on the inside of her wrist. I very much wanted to trace the marking, but I could not move, which was probably for the best.
"And below it is the heart line." She shook her head and pursed her lips dramatically. "This isn't good."
"What isn't good?" I feared her answer.
"You love very deeply and you're faithful."
"That's…bad?"
"It shows much disappointment in love."
My fingers closed but she opened my hand again and pulled my fingers back much further than necessary as if she wished to punish me.
"This." She touched below my smallest finger and followed a line toward my middle finger. "Is the marriage line. My, you will have a long marriage, a good, strong marriage." She tapped my hand. "With many children."
"How many?" I blurted out.
"For now only one. But it could change."
"You said many."
"The lines are not yet developed, so for now I see only one," she shot back.
I did not care for her answers. First I was to have disappointment in love, then a strong marriage line. Her interpretation of my palm made no sense and I was glad all I had lost was a strawberry.
She furrowed her brow. "Ah, and what's this I see? A strawberry stain. You love sweets, you ignorant boy."
My face burned. She had mocked me in the end.
"You will lead a most interesting life. That is all I can reveal to you."
"My hand has told you all of this?" I stared at my open palm, at the lines which had never meant much to me. Children, marriage, artistic…I marveled at her words for one fleeting moment before discarding such a foolish notion. She could see nothing of my life, I reasoned. If she could have seen my past she would have known there was no marriage or children for me in the years to come.
"It is all it will tell me for the compensation of a single strawberry."
I slouched on my rock for a moment. Even if I didn't believe her, I wanted to know more, to keep her near a moment longer. There had to be more she could reveal, but I didn't know how to persuade her. Before I could devise a plan, the old woman appeared at the water's edge and shouted.
"Dukkera!"
The girl swatted my hand, which startled me. I stared, mouth agape, from the girl to the old woman, unsure of what had earned me a slap to the hand.
"He wouldn't let me go!" the girl shrieked.
"No." I shook my head and drew away from her. No other words would leave my mouth. Perhaps I understood there was nothing I could say in my defense.
"He's a wicked child."
The old woman yanked the girl by the arm and slapped her face. "He is diseased. You put your family at great risk, Dukkera."
Tears streamed down the girl's face, which seemed somewhat forced, and the old woman didn't appear to take pity on the girl. Instead she stared at me, her eyes cold and hard. Again I shook my head. I wanted to tell the woman I wasn't at fault, but the words would not leave my lips. I gawked at the two of them before they disappeared and wondered why the girl would lie about our encounter.
Eventually they retreated to their camp. Alone and devastated, I continued to stare at my hand. There would be no wife and children. She was little more than a storyteller offering beautiful fabrications to an ignorant boy. She had not only lied to me, but she had also lied to the older woman who had come to retrieve her.
When The Shadow returned I was angry. I thought it was at him because he had not returned and rescued me when he heard raised voices. It was a long time before I realized I was angry with myself for trusting a strange girl whose only magic was in the tips of her fingers, and by that time I had no desire to speak to anyone.
"How do your feet feel?"
I offered no words. Frustrated, I turned my face away.
He exhaled and crossed his arms. For a long while we remained in silence. Deep inside I felt my guts writhing. I wanted to apologize, to ask him where he had been, but I was too stubborn to say a word. Instead, I allowed my anger to boil.
"We should leave soon."
I stretched my legs out and touched the rocks with the balls of my feet. It didn't hurt. Of course, the balls of my feet weren't blistered.
"You are fortunate her father and uncles didn't come to her side to save her, my son. It would been like a fawn facing wolves."
My throat tightened. "I did not do anything, I swear," I said at last.
More than anger, I was deeply hurt by her actions. I knew then that I could not exist in the world. My place was locked in a cellar, where I was protected from the world and its deceptions. I would not survive alone, not with my ignorance.
"I saw what transpired."
My head snapped up, my anger fueled by his words. He had seen and yet he did not help me.
"Her grandmother saw her approach you and take your hand in order to read your palm. She is a sneaky girl, Erik, and no one will trust her again," he continued.
"Why did you watch?" I asked. Why didn't you stop this, I wanted to ask.
"I do not wish to hover endlessly over you," he explained. "You are old enough to be trusted on your own, are you not?"
I wasn't sure, but I still nodded and rummaged through my pack to avoid looking at my uncle. Over and over I went through the girl's palm reading and attempted to make sense of what had happened, but I could not understand why she would tell the old woman I would not release her. I had not done anything to harm her, not even when she took my strawberry without it being offered.
"Why did she blame me?" I blurted out. I faced him, desperately seeking answers.
My uncle looked over at me quietly, his brow raised as he mulled over my question. He sat in silence for a moment before he inhaled. "To save herself from trouble." He scooted closer and took his seat beside me until his shoulder touched mine. There was something comforting in the closeness, and I found myself breathing in deeply to catch the scent of pipe smoke. "It had nothing to do with you. She saw an opportunity for gain and accepted it. Nothing more." He smiled. "Call it…survival."
It was a repulsive concept, but I was nonetheless fascinated by it.
"You will always have to do your best to conduct yourself in a respectable manner," my uncle said as he turned to face me. "And that starts with having respect for yourself first."
I looked away well before he finished speaking and turned my attention to the fire. Instead of roaring flames it had been reduced to more of a smolder glowing orange against the night.
"You think that is impossible?" he questioned, keeping his tone light.
I merely shrugged.
With a grunt, he placed his hand on top of my head and gave it a firm squeeze and gentle shake. "Well, if you ask me-which you did not-I see a fine musician waiting to be chiseled from the stone. Others may see a simple rock, but common folk never see a work of genius until it's blatantly displayed before their eyes." He squinted at me as though wishing to look more serious. "Fools, all of them."
His words made it impossible for me to contain a grin. Heat rose through my cheeks, ears, and the back of my neck, and with that, my uncle chuckled to himself.
"Ah, a smile at last from my young nephew. I was beginning to think you were truly made of stone." He tapped his fingers on his knees and groaned as he stood once more and dusted his pant legs off. He slung his pack over his shoulder and reached for mine. "Do you think you are able to walk a short distance?"
"Yes," I answered without thinking it over.
My uncle grunted. "Leave your feet bandaged and place your shoes and socks on. I have a something to show you."
He helped me to my feet once I laced my shoes, and together we walked across the road to the opposite side, then weaved through the trees. The woods opened to a field, and tied to the fence was a donkey who looked as surprised to see us as I was to see it.
"Have you ever ridden?" he asked me.
I shook my head. Slowly I approached the animal and saw its ears flick back. Soft, dark eyes met mine and its nostrils twitched as it sniffed the air. One of my favorite activities when I escaped the cellar was to visit the horses and donkeys in the pub stables. The donkeys always brayed a warning, but nonetheless approached the corral fence for a pat on the head or a scratch along the shoulders. They would nuzzle my ear and breathe against my neck, and the closeness of such a large, gentle animal eased my troubled mind. It was strange to fear my father and trust such a large creature, but I felt safe in the presence of stabled animals.
"Then you are in for an experience, my boy."
He helped me to climb the fence and sit astride the animal. "Who does it belong to?" I asked.
"No one. I found him." He paused. "Or her, rather."
My luck had seemingly changed. I ran my hand over the donkey's neck and rubbed its dusty coat. Animals had always fascinated me, whether they were birds, dogs, or horses. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her neck. "You are beautiful," I said.
Once both packs were fitted onto the donkey's back, we cut through the field. I leaned forward as the animal bumbled along, and I scratched behind her giant ears. There was a mark behind its right ear, which I couldn't see in the darkness. I traced it with my fingers several times until I was certain I knew the design.
A crescent moon.
I glanced back to make certain no one followed us. The way was clear, the night quiet. The only disturbance was within me, a deep-rooted fear I felt in my gut.