Clopin stays silent on our journey back to the Court of Miracles. Wise of
him. Even a King knows when his humor and silliness would be ill-met.
Halfway back I begin to worry about Ferdain, another twinge of guilt that my first thought was for my fiddle and not for my unfortunate brother. Anger argues back that he had no right to disappear. If he has gotten himself into another ridiculous situation, or forgotten my fiddle in some alley, I cannot begin to think of a way to exact revenge.
We reach the court and Clopin stops me for a moment.
"Do not be too hasty to condemn him, Evalyne." I can only glower at him before shrugging him off and continuing on my own to the tent. I pause for a moment before entering.
Half of me hopes he is in there so I don't have to worry any more. The other half of me hopes he isn't, that he truly has proven what an idiot he is once and for all. I grit my teeth, ready to loose hell upon him and enter the tent.
I see nothing but our host's belongings for a moment. My fiddle lies in the corner, upside down as if it had been dropped. I run to it and pick it up, inspecting it for damage. Nothing is amiss, if not a little out of tune. Sobered a little, I put it back down and turn around. There, in the corner of the tent, curled up with his back to me, is Ferdain. I had not noticed him amid the other curled up baskets and piles of things. I charge over and shake him roughly. He reeks of drink.
"Just like you, following your own fool ideas and never listening to me!" I snap at him. He ignores me. I shake him again.
Some little tightness in my throat clenches harder until I feel something snap.
"Ferdain I mean it! I am through with getting you out of trouble and letting you make a fool of yourself!" I am yelling now, so loudly that it is a wonder our host doesn't arise and yell back. "I am tired of watching for you and making sure you don't end up with a noose about your neck! I am tired of having to get you food and find a place to stay and yelling at you!"
"I'll leave Ferdain!" I have uttered the words many a time, but never have they sounded so harsh.
Or so final.
"I'll leave you and you see how long you survive without my providing everything for you, you horrible child of a man!" I finish, falling back onto my knees from the force of my rant.
I should leave him. What has he ever provided for me? He is supposedly my elder brother, a man, but you would never know it to look at him. All he has ever given me are worries and troubles.
"Haven't you anything to say for yourself?" I snap. Ferdain ignores me still. Angry, I pull on him, rolling him over to face me.
My brother's face is as pale as death. His brown eyes pleadingly stare up at me. He shivers and his breathing is ragged. Tears trail from his eyes.
"My God, Ferdain, what has happened to you?" I cry, my hand flying to my throat.
"Evalyne..." He moans, his fingers grasping my cloak. I pull him into my arms, beginning to weep.
How could I have said such things? How could I?
"Don't leave Evalyne." He whines, hacking and coughing into my shoulder. When he pulls away there is blood on his lips.
"Oh, Ferdain, I will never leave. I promise." I murmur into his ear.
Guilt pervades every inch of me as all the times I've considered getting up in the middle of the night and leaving come back to haunt me. I love my brother. He needs me, and I need him. He is my family, and for a gypsy, family is hard to come by.
"I didn't have a drop, I swear." He rasps. I smile at him. I don't know whether he is telling the truth, but it doesn't matter anymore.
"It's all right Ferdain. Lie down and sleep. I won't let anything happen to you." He again doesn't listen to me and pushes himself up, wiping sweat off his brow.
"This is no mere chill." I say, feeling his forehead. His eyes close as he begins to wheeze.
"My chest..." He rubs his torso and my mind immediately flies back to a few nights ago, the night the guards so savagely abused him. That was when this all started. Something in my brother's body has been broken or made ill from that horrid beast's blows.
"How did you get back here?" I ask softly. Ferdain opens his eyes.
"Very slowly and very painfully. I left not long after you did." He manages two sentences before closing his eyes again.
"Ferdain?" I repeat. My brother slumps back to the floor, unconscious.
Fear and worry give me speed, and I rush out of the tent, screaming Clopin's name. He is nowhere in sight. I run amid the tents, looking for some sign of which one is his, uncaring as to whether I awaken the entire camp or not.
A hand finally grabs my wrist, freezing me in mid-run and wrenching me backwards.
"Have you gone mad, woman?" It is Clopin, but he does not look amused. "I may be willing to listen to your heretical shrieking by day, Cherie, but I will not have you awakening my entire kingdom at night with them. If you are not careful you will make many enemies even if you are here temporarily" He says in a low regal voice, suddenly becoming every inch the king as the King of France himself. For a moment I want to bow my head in repentance and respect but then I remember why I am running about screaming his name.
"Please, Clopin, Ferdain is sick. Horribly sick...I don't know what to do. Please, you must help!" His grip on my wrist instantly vanishes.
"I apologize, Evalyne. I have no tricks of medicine or healing. You must go to the healer." He motions me to follow and he runs off towards the edge of the underground encampment. I follow, struggling to keep up. He finally reaches a tent ideally placed under a section of catacombs that reaches up to the sky, letting in a bit of moonlight. The healer's tent has an almost heavenly glow of purity, making me believe that whoever the healer is, she must be able to do something for Ferdain.
An older gypsy woman, with a ring of gold in her ear and a tooth missing from her mouth, peeks out of the tent at the sound of the jingling bells on Clopin's hat.
"Not another spiked by the guards?" She says, hunched over a little.
"Your skills are needed by a less brave man, but a man in need all the less, Madame." I hear no name follow the title, but as I see the respectful way Clopin addresses her, how he tips his head to acknowledge her words, I see that this particular Madame must be a widely honored one.
"Ah, the fiddler of the court," she remarks upon seeing me. I bow my head as quickly as I can without being disrespectful.
"It is my poor brother who requires your aid, Madame. Will you not come quickly?"
"We shall see what I can do for him. Though from what I hear of his work ethic, I may not be able to cure him in that respect." I can't help but smile at her reassuring words. For an elderly woman with somewhat of a hunch, she is surprisingly quick on her feet, keeping up with the spry Clopin and I as we hurry back to Ferdain.
We find my brother lying under his blanket, awake, but still pale and sweating feverishly. Madame kneels next to him, taking a bundle out from within the folds of her skirt.
"Young man, can you hear me?" She says kindly. Ferdain smiles thinly.
"Very well for one so old." He rasps. I glare at him, ready to tell him to hold his impudent tongue. But the Madame only laughs.
"I'll allow that for the moment, as it means you are not perhaps ready to meet the devil just yet." She sets about feeling his neck and looking into his eyes, touching his forehead and muttering to herself. I have no knowledge of medicine, except perhaps the care of a few odd cuts and bruises. Clopin and I only watch with bated breath. Madame finally reaches Ferdain's stomach and he cries out in pain, clutching his blanket.
"It is in his insides that this illness has spread itself." She announces.
"He had a run-in with the guards a few nights past." I offer. She nods.
"This very well may be the cause of it. Something, though it is beyond my skills to know what, is pervading his stomach, his lungs, eating away at him perhaps. You must keep him well-fed, especially when he is this pale grayish color, which cannot be healthy." She begins to rip pieces of various plants within her bundle apart, mashing them into a paste and adding water.
"He must drink this every night. It is said to ease the lungs and absorb any poison." She makes my brother swallow some, though he grimaces at the taste. "You must keep him well-fed. Too little food and the sickness could devour him. He is nearly skin and bones already." I notice for the first time my brother's gaunt appearance, and I curse myself for being so irritated with him lately to not pay attention.
I try to thank her for her kindness but something sticks in my throat and I can only nod and blink back my tears. She pats my shoulder kindly.
"Do not despair, young lady. In the end, both you and your brother will be healed of what ails you." She turns back to Ferdain one last time.
"And you, young man, must mind what I have told you and get well, if only to rid your sister of her worries." She says firmly. Ferdain smiles weakly at her, coughing.
The Madame gives a final appraising look, and exits the tent.
I suddenly realize my hand has been in Clopin's the entire time. He releases it without a word and it feels strange that the warm feeling should be gone, and stranger still that I did not notice it until now.
"Don't worry little fiddler. Madame is very wise and there is not a gypsy among this Court that has proven her wrong. Should you need anything more, do not hesitate to ask her." He smiles one last time at me and leaves to return to his bed.
I look at my brother, asleep finally but his usual snoring replaced by an irregular and grating wheeze. I curl myself up next to him, clinging to his arm, feeling the warmth, the sign of life, coming from his body. I close my eyes.
"Don't leave, Ferdain."
Halfway back I begin to worry about Ferdain, another twinge of guilt that my first thought was for my fiddle and not for my unfortunate brother. Anger argues back that he had no right to disappear. If he has gotten himself into another ridiculous situation, or forgotten my fiddle in some alley, I cannot begin to think of a way to exact revenge.
We reach the court and Clopin stops me for a moment.
"Do not be too hasty to condemn him, Evalyne." I can only glower at him before shrugging him off and continuing on my own to the tent. I pause for a moment before entering.
Half of me hopes he is in there so I don't have to worry any more. The other half of me hopes he isn't, that he truly has proven what an idiot he is once and for all. I grit my teeth, ready to loose hell upon him and enter the tent.
I see nothing but our host's belongings for a moment. My fiddle lies in the corner, upside down as if it had been dropped. I run to it and pick it up, inspecting it for damage. Nothing is amiss, if not a little out of tune. Sobered a little, I put it back down and turn around. There, in the corner of the tent, curled up with his back to me, is Ferdain. I had not noticed him amid the other curled up baskets and piles of things. I charge over and shake him roughly. He reeks of drink.
"Just like you, following your own fool ideas and never listening to me!" I snap at him. He ignores me. I shake him again.
Some little tightness in my throat clenches harder until I feel something snap.
"Ferdain I mean it! I am through with getting you out of trouble and letting you make a fool of yourself!" I am yelling now, so loudly that it is a wonder our host doesn't arise and yell back. "I am tired of watching for you and making sure you don't end up with a noose about your neck! I am tired of having to get you food and find a place to stay and yelling at you!"
"I'll leave Ferdain!" I have uttered the words many a time, but never have they sounded so harsh.
Or so final.
"I'll leave you and you see how long you survive without my providing everything for you, you horrible child of a man!" I finish, falling back onto my knees from the force of my rant.
I should leave him. What has he ever provided for me? He is supposedly my elder brother, a man, but you would never know it to look at him. All he has ever given me are worries and troubles.
"Haven't you anything to say for yourself?" I snap. Ferdain ignores me still. Angry, I pull on him, rolling him over to face me.
My brother's face is as pale as death. His brown eyes pleadingly stare up at me. He shivers and his breathing is ragged. Tears trail from his eyes.
"My God, Ferdain, what has happened to you?" I cry, my hand flying to my throat.
"Evalyne..." He moans, his fingers grasping my cloak. I pull him into my arms, beginning to weep.
How could I have said such things? How could I?
"Don't leave Evalyne." He whines, hacking and coughing into my shoulder. When he pulls away there is blood on his lips.
"Oh, Ferdain, I will never leave. I promise." I murmur into his ear.
Guilt pervades every inch of me as all the times I've considered getting up in the middle of the night and leaving come back to haunt me. I love my brother. He needs me, and I need him. He is my family, and for a gypsy, family is hard to come by.
"I didn't have a drop, I swear." He rasps. I smile at him. I don't know whether he is telling the truth, but it doesn't matter anymore.
"It's all right Ferdain. Lie down and sleep. I won't let anything happen to you." He again doesn't listen to me and pushes himself up, wiping sweat off his brow.
"This is no mere chill." I say, feeling his forehead. His eyes close as he begins to wheeze.
"My chest..." He rubs his torso and my mind immediately flies back to a few nights ago, the night the guards so savagely abused him. That was when this all started. Something in my brother's body has been broken or made ill from that horrid beast's blows.
"How did you get back here?" I ask softly. Ferdain opens his eyes.
"Very slowly and very painfully. I left not long after you did." He manages two sentences before closing his eyes again.
"Ferdain?" I repeat. My brother slumps back to the floor, unconscious.
Fear and worry give me speed, and I rush out of the tent, screaming Clopin's name. He is nowhere in sight. I run amid the tents, looking for some sign of which one is his, uncaring as to whether I awaken the entire camp or not.
A hand finally grabs my wrist, freezing me in mid-run and wrenching me backwards.
"Have you gone mad, woman?" It is Clopin, but he does not look amused. "I may be willing to listen to your heretical shrieking by day, Cherie, but I will not have you awakening my entire kingdom at night with them. If you are not careful you will make many enemies even if you are here temporarily" He says in a low regal voice, suddenly becoming every inch the king as the King of France himself. For a moment I want to bow my head in repentance and respect but then I remember why I am running about screaming his name.
"Please, Clopin, Ferdain is sick. Horribly sick...I don't know what to do. Please, you must help!" His grip on my wrist instantly vanishes.
"I apologize, Evalyne. I have no tricks of medicine or healing. You must go to the healer." He motions me to follow and he runs off towards the edge of the underground encampment. I follow, struggling to keep up. He finally reaches a tent ideally placed under a section of catacombs that reaches up to the sky, letting in a bit of moonlight. The healer's tent has an almost heavenly glow of purity, making me believe that whoever the healer is, she must be able to do something for Ferdain.
An older gypsy woman, with a ring of gold in her ear and a tooth missing from her mouth, peeks out of the tent at the sound of the jingling bells on Clopin's hat.
"Not another spiked by the guards?" She says, hunched over a little.
"Your skills are needed by a less brave man, but a man in need all the less, Madame." I hear no name follow the title, but as I see the respectful way Clopin addresses her, how he tips his head to acknowledge her words, I see that this particular Madame must be a widely honored one.
"Ah, the fiddler of the court," she remarks upon seeing me. I bow my head as quickly as I can without being disrespectful.
"It is my poor brother who requires your aid, Madame. Will you not come quickly?"
"We shall see what I can do for him. Though from what I hear of his work ethic, I may not be able to cure him in that respect." I can't help but smile at her reassuring words. For an elderly woman with somewhat of a hunch, she is surprisingly quick on her feet, keeping up with the spry Clopin and I as we hurry back to Ferdain.
We find my brother lying under his blanket, awake, but still pale and sweating feverishly. Madame kneels next to him, taking a bundle out from within the folds of her skirt.
"Young man, can you hear me?" She says kindly. Ferdain smiles thinly.
"Very well for one so old." He rasps. I glare at him, ready to tell him to hold his impudent tongue. But the Madame only laughs.
"I'll allow that for the moment, as it means you are not perhaps ready to meet the devil just yet." She sets about feeling his neck and looking into his eyes, touching his forehead and muttering to herself. I have no knowledge of medicine, except perhaps the care of a few odd cuts and bruises. Clopin and I only watch with bated breath. Madame finally reaches Ferdain's stomach and he cries out in pain, clutching his blanket.
"It is in his insides that this illness has spread itself." She announces.
"He had a run-in with the guards a few nights past." I offer. She nods.
"This very well may be the cause of it. Something, though it is beyond my skills to know what, is pervading his stomach, his lungs, eating away at him perhaps. You must keep him well-fed, especially when he is this pale grayish color, which cannot be healthy." She begins to rip pieces of various plants within her bundle apart, mashing them into a paste and adding water.
"He must drink this every night. It is said to ease the lungs and absorb any poison." She makes my brother swallow some, though he grimaces at the taste. "You must keep him well-fed. Too little food and the sickness could devour him. He is nearly skin and bones already." I notice for the first time my brother's gaunt appearance, and I curse myself for being so irritated with him lately to not pay attention.
I try to thank her for her kindness but something sticks in my throat and I can only nod and blink back my tears. She pats my shoulder kindly.
"Do not despair, young lady. In the end, both you and your brother will be healed of what ails you." She turns back to Ferdain one last time.
"And you, young man, must mind what I have told you and get well, if only to rid your sister of her worries." She says firmly. Ferdain smiles weakly at her, coughing.
The Madame gives a final appraising look, and exits the tent.
I suddenly realize my hand has been in Clopin's the entire time. He releases it without a word and it feels strange that the warm feeling should be gone, and stranger still that I did not notice it until now.
"Don't worry little fiddler. Madame is very wise and there is not a gypsy among this Court that has proven her wrong. Should you need anything more, do not hesitate to ask her." He smiles one last time at me and leaves to return to his bed.
I look at my brother, asleep finally but his usual snoring replaced by an irregular and grating wheeze. I curl myself up next to him, clinging to his arm, feeling the warmth, the sign of life, coming from his body. I close my eyes.
"Don't leave, Ferdain."