Free Another Me by Eva Wiseman Page B

her face. I leaned over her and tried to pull her up from the frozen cobblestones.
    “The ground is cold, Mother. You’ll catch your death if you don’t stand up.”
    She struggled to her feet and caught my hand, kissing it before I could stop her.
    “Mistress, you and this fine young master saved my life,” she said. “How can I ever thank you?”
    “What happened?” Natan asked. “Why were those children tormenting you so?”
    “I was returning to our caravan in the woods beyond your city when those spawns of Satan attacked me.” She bent down and picked up a tambourine lying in the snow. After examining it, she threw it back down. “It’s beyond repair.” She shook her head sadly. “Them devil children wanted to kill me!”
    “Oh no! They just don’t know any better,” I said.
    The woman’s black eyes glowed in her swarthy face. “You’re too innocent, young mistress, to understand the likes of them. May the Great One bless you—and you too, master—for saving me.”
    Her expression became crafty.
    “My name is Nadya. I was in your city to earn a few coins,” she said. She picked up the ripped tambourine again and shook it. “I have many mouths to feed.” She held out her hand. “Can you help an old woman like me?”
    Natan stared at her in surprise. I slipped a coin into her palm and then held out my own hand toward her.
    “Tell my fortune, Mother,” I said. “I’ve heard that your people can see into the future.”
    She pulled my hand toward her and began to trace the lines in my palm. Suddenly, she trembled and dropped my hand.
    “Dear Mother of God! May she protect you!”
    “What is it? Do you see something of concern?”
    “D-don’t ask m-me,” she stuttered. She took a deep breath and began to speak more calmly. “There is more in heaven and earth than a poor woman like me can understand.” She leaned close. “If you ever need my help, young mistress, come to our caravan. Our people will help you. Gypsies like us have long memories. We never forget when a good deed is done to us.”
    She curtsied deeply with surprising grace and was gone before I could reply.
    “I wonder what she saw in my hand that made her run away?” I asked. “Her people are versed in the black arts, they say.”
    Natan stared after her solemnly but didn’t answer my question.

CHAPTER 13
    T he winter fair was always important to my father. It was the time when he purchased a great deal of our merchandise from drapers who came from as far away as Toledo in the Iberian Peninsula. It was also the time when he sold the visiting merchants a lot of our own goods. I was always pleased when Papa asked me to help him in the tent we set up on the fairground next to the River Ill. He also asked Natan to help him.
    After a few hours of work had passed, Papa told me to take a break. He rubbed his stomach. “Delicacies from all over the world can be had for a few coins at the fair.”
    “I don’t care about the food. I want to see the stilt walkers and the fools.”
    “I’ll come with you,” Natan said.
    He glanced at Papa, afraid that he would stop him. Fortunately, my father was in a jovial mood.
    “Go, go!” he said. “You’re young only once.”
    Natan and I wrapped ourselves in our cloaks against the wintry breeze from the river. We had walked but a few steps when a minstrel began to follow us, strumming his lute and singing a melancholy tune:
    Under the linden, on the heath
    There the bed of us two was
,
    There you may find
    Lovely both broken flowers and grass
.
    Natan began to smile and strut. I looked around quickly. Did I want the other fairgoers to think I was Hans’s beloved? They didn’t know he was really Natan in Hans’s skin.
    We strolled about, admiring the skill of the tumblers. We had just passed the money changer’s booth when Natan stepped very close to me. I could see by the desire in his eyes that he was about to kiss me. The cold rays of the winter sun highlighted every mark on