Author's Note: Well, I'm not sick anymore. I appologize for making you wait a bit for this one. But...yeah. Chapter twelve! Another 2000+ words of (hopefully) yummy goodness. And it would have been up way sooner if Fanfic hadn't been stupid and not let me log on. *grumblegrumblegrumble* -_-
Ah, well, onwards. Thankfully whatever was blocking it was fixed, so, drumroll please!
Enjoy!
(And, on an end note, thank you for all the reviews. They, or rather you, are what keep this story going through periods of writer's block. Cheers!)
Kin
"Sir?" Jester's voice was hesitant as he addressed the leader of the gypsies, who remained seated at the table as the gypsies cleared the dining caravan. He bit his lip, feeling slightly nervous. There was simply something about the man that called for respect, an aura of royalty and wisdom that made him feel as though he spoke to a king or a lord. The elderly man turned his head, black eyes glowing with amusement.
"You do not have to call me 'sir', Jester," he said gently. "We are all treated as equals here." He smiled.
"Of course, si- erm... Tiberinus." Jester felt his face grow warm, as he fumbled with the words. Tiberinus motioned for Jester closer, away from the door.
"Do not be shy, Jester. We are all as family here, whether by blood ties or not. Now, what was it that you wanted to ask me about? I could tell that something was puzzling you this past hour."
"I...well, I was just thinking. Maurus had a point earlier...I mean, it's true, what he said. Why should you help me? Why do you care? What is Jane or I to you that would cause you to risk yourselves? I mean, I'm grateful. It's more than I could have hoped for, and I am truly astounded that you would be so kind as to first take me in, and then teach me to fight, and even more, to help me rescue Jane, and..." He took a deep breath, knowing that he was babbling. "It got me thinking, though. And I found that I kept coming back to one specific thing. You...you said that you would help me as you... would help kin. What did you mean?"
Tiberinus sighed heavily, his face suddenly seeming older and drawn, the lordly fire dimming slightly. It was the face of a man whose griefs have taken their toll, as they cut at his heart over the years.
"Come, sit, Jester. Let me tell you a tale that began...oh, twenty years ago, when this caravan was first establishing itself in the small northern kingdoms, making its way from Italy. Octavia and I had been wed sixteen years or so, with Maurus a thirteen-year-old lad, and Wymund twelve years of age. My wife's family lived and performed with us then, with her mother, three younger sisters and one elder brother as constant company. There were many moments of laughter in those years. And... also many years of struggle.
"At the time, the life of the Roma was hard. Harder than it has ever been in my lifetime. Our income was insignificant, scarcely enough to sustain ourselves as we journeyed from village to village. Truly, it was a rough road that we traveled. The Romany were becoming a dying breed, slowly vanishing under the greed of highwaymen who would murder their own brethren in hopes of gaining a mouthful of gin," he shook his head. "We knew that, for our own protection, our numbers must increase, and so our caravan melded with another. You could almost call them my extended family, though it is not so by blood." Tiberinus paused, his eyes distant as though revisiting an era long ended. A smile perched upon his lips as memories passed before his eyes.
"There was one young man amongst them whom I remember with clarity. He was nineteen, with the free spirit of the Roma strong within him, and already skilled with the traditional gypsy arts and instruments. Much like you, I must add."
"I...like me? Really?"
"Ay, Jester, like you. The two of you are very similar, I believe, from all that I have heard of you from my wife and my niece. I suppose we shall see for certain over time, though I have a feeling that..." Tiberinus tilted his head, thoughtful, "All the same. Now, to continue with this tale, before the night grows old."
"Of course," Jester said.
"It was early summer. June. The future had signs of being more prosperous than our current straights, and there was a fresh joy within our caravan. Everything felt light once again, a new beginning. And that was when he met her. My wife's youngest sister, scarcely seventeen years of age. She was a beauty, with blonde hair and blue eyes like the morning mists, and my young friend fell hopelessly in love with her." He smiled, the light of summer days long past shining in his eyes. Jester smiled, imagining the young man and the woman he loved, as Tiberinus continued.
"After a season, my wife's sister also fell in love with the young man. They were like...Venus and Mars, Cupid and Psyche; more perfectly matched than any other and within a year, they were married, and she was with child." Tiberinus smiled, but there was a sad, almost wistful side to his face. "Soon, they broke away from our caravan, as it had grown considerably. They began to travel northwards. We kept in touch with letters, of course, as my wife and her sister had taught us to read and write, and learnt that three weeks after their departure, Octavia's sister had borne a son. We were overjoyed, and I regret not having journeyed after them from Spain to see the child."
"Did you never see the child?" Jester asked.
"No, never. We remained in Spain for the next eight years, receiving word of the birth of first a niece, two years after the first child, and then a second nephew three years later. But we also received word of hard times in the Northern kingdoms. Now, I have a suspicion, Jester, and perhaps this next part of this tale will be familiar to you?
"Seven years after my sister-in-law and her family had departed North, we knew that they had fallen on hard times. They were scraping for food and coin, and Octavia's sister wrote to us telling how she was afraid that she would wake to find her children dead from cold and hunger.
"She also wrote that she had a feeling that her eldest son was meant for more than the life she and her husband could provide for him. He could read, he could write, he could dance and sing. He was, simply, of true Roma descent." Tiberinus paused, glancing at Jester with that even, black stare, and Jester realized that he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, as Tiberinus continued.
"She wrote to us that she and her husband had a decision to make. One that broke her heart into a thousand obliterated shards, yet brought her hope. They had come to a small kingdom, perhaps you have heard of it, called Kippernium, where a King Caradoc and a Queen Gwendolyn offered to take Octavia's sister's eldest boy on as a Court Jester, and give him lodging and an education."
Jester blinked, feeling as though he were falling. As if someone had turned the earth on its head and he fell up, up, up into the sky in a graceful, almost dreamlike ascent. Not a sound could be heard, save the gentle patter of rain on wood. Its rhythmic staccato pounded in Jester's mind like a tiny, elfin hammer.
"Tell me, Jester," Tiberinus's voice was gentle and calm, "You have told Octavia and Maia that you are of Roma descent, have you not? If so, what were you parents' names?"
Eyes wide, heart pounding, Jester's mind flashed to a long forgotten memory. A blonde woman sat on a rocking chair in a small, warm caravan. One of her arms held a tiny infant wrapped in a wool blanket. Her other hand caressed Jester's hair as he sat at her feet. The woman sang in a tongue that Jester scarcely remembered, while a man, also blonde, smiled at her as he played a weatherworn lute, plucking each string with grace.
"Tatiana," Jester remembered the man murmuring. She stopped singing, a smile fresh upon her face. She looked...alive. Free. Joyful.
"Kassian?" Jester heard his mother reply. Her voice was gentle and loving, as a mother's voice should be.
Kassian murmured a few words to her in the language that Jester recognized as Romanes, and Tatiana laughed.
The sound of her laughter brought the brief flash of memory to an end, and Jester watched it fade before his eyes with a bittersweet pang of longing. A lump rose in his throat, and his voice shook.
"Tatiana," Jester breathed, "was my mother's name, and Kassian was my father's."
Tiberinus nodded.
"It is as I suspected, then. You are the son of Octavia's sister, Tatiana, and her husband Kassian."
Jester lurched forward, clutching Tiberinus's arm.
"Then...then you are my uncle? And Octavia is my aunt? And...and Maurus and Wymund are my cousins?"
"Ay, lad."
"And....what of my parents? Where are Tatiana and Kassian? Where are my brothers and sisters? It shames me to say that I don't even know all of their names!"
Tiberinus's face was at once drawn.
"That Jester, I do not know for certain. There was a...misfortune that occurred. Maia doesn't like to talk about it, though I know that they are alive. All of them; your siblings, Gaius, Alesso, Silas and Valya are alive, as are your parents"
"I...wait....Maia doesn't like to talk about it?" Jester asked, puzzlement etched across his face. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. Tiberinus rested his chin upon one hand, pensive.
"It would appear that, you being the son of Kassian and Tatiana, you would also be the brother of our young niece Maia."
"WHAT?! My...my sister is here?" Before Jester knew it, he had tears of joy welling at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back, as Tiberinus placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Ay, lad," the old man's voice cracked slightly with emotion. "Welcome home, my boy, welcome home."
He was running. His feet pounded beneath him, pushing him forwards. Faster, faster, faster, they seemed to order. His hands clutched the hilt of his blade, the leather familiar and comfortable beneath his now calloused fingers. Quickly, Jester ducked into a copse of trees.
Ahead of him, he could see the flickering lights of the tents. Smoke from the cooking fires rose from the flames, stretching and curling like hands reaching towards the heavens, threatening to blot out the stars.
The sound of men at ease, their laughter and crude jokes rising into a despised chorus of bass and baritone harmony, both cacophonic and harmonic at once, met Jester's ears. An uncharacteristic cold rage pounded through his veins, coursing frigid ice water, as he listened to their vile remarks.
She was here. Somewhere.
His eyes scanned the group gathered around the fire pit. Lust, greed, murder...it was all that shone in their faces. The firelight cast flickering shadows, giving them the appearance of monstrous beings.
Suddenly, there was a loud cheer. Jester's eyes flickered to a form emerging from a tent, and he felt something knot in his stomach as he recognized it as the form of Cliff. The man was fastening the belt of his breeches, and slipping back into his tunic.
"Well, lads. It's done. The mare 'as been saddled and mounted. Our little lovey-friend's defense 'as finally crumbled." He laughed heartily.
Jester felt his knees buckle, realizing what this must mean.
"No..." he gasped. He was too late. He was too bloody late. "Jane...Jane. I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry. Jane..." He repeated her name, feeling the scratchy bark of the tree trunk behind him. He could just picture her, pinioned on the floor of the canvas tent as she struggled, her arms held still as fabric was torn away and Cliff...and Cliff...
Jester sat up swiftly, breathing heavily and coated in cold sweat. He was shivering, his shoulders shaking convulsively.
"Jane..." he murmured, burying his face in his hands, trying to blot out the images of the dream. There was nothing, nothing, more important now. Jane needed him, and soon.
He took a deep breath, glancing out of the small caravan window. The rain had stopped, and the air was fresh as it only is after a heavy storm. Moonlight cast a long glowing beam into the caravan.
"Jane," he murmured into the night, "Jane, I swear this now. I swear that I will save you before...before they..." his voice failed.
A sharp, swift knock on the door made him start.
"Jester?" Maia called. Her voice was tense. There was a sense of urgency to her tone. "Jester, wake up!"
Jester slipped from beneath the covers, wincing at the stinging cold of the wooden floor.
"I'm awake," he called, slipping a tunic on over his breeches. He opened the door.
Maia stood there, with a thick woolen blanket draped over her nightgown and a candle clutched in her hand. Hart was at her hip, and she glanced at him with frantic eyes.
"Jester, you have to come, and quickly. They've been spotted. Lucius came back from his patrol. He had a brush with them who took your Jane," she took a deep breath, "Their camp is a mile from here. Godric went to check, and said to wake you."
Jester clutched the doorframe for support, his knuckles turning white.
"Is there anything else?" He asked. Maia nodded.
"Tiberinus is calling a meeting," she bit her lip. "I...they...Lucius saw Jane, Jester."
"He did?" Jester exclaimed, fear thrumming in his heart. 'How is...?"
Maia bit her lip again.
"I...I don't know," she said. "But come. We need to decide what to do, and quickly. Everything could depend on it."
Jester felt a lump rising in his throat, his mind's eye envisioning the nightmare.
"I swear I'll come, Jane," he whispered.
Author's End Note of the Chapter: Again, please review. I'm curious about reactions and such. Critiquecritiquecritique, please! It really helps me to improve the story for you!
Chapter 13 will be up. At some point. Like. When it's done. Which will hopefully be soon, seeing as I wrote like 1/10 of it last night. Anyways, hope you liked this chapter! :)