Free GypsyDukeEpub by Unknown

have enough coin to buy their allegiance."
    He lifted his mother into her saddle and stepped up to his horse. Grayson was already mounted and waiting. Away they rode, into the dark.
    During the ride, they didn't find much opportunity to speak. A thick blanket of clouds obscured the moon and stars, making travel difficult, but John knew the way. The gypsies made camp in the same location every year. He and Robert had often sneaked out under cover of night to visit them. He knew of one gypsy in particular who wouldn't turn him away. But, the decision to shelter John would not be his.
    When they neared the camp, John slowed his horse and held out a hand toward his mother. His breath came out in a cloud, and he wondered if her woolen cloak kept her warm. She would never complain.
    "We'll have to walk the horses now. It would be dangerous to go riding at full speed into a gypsy camp. They would fear the worst, start shooting, and ask questions later."
    They rode single file with John in the front and Grayson bringing up the rear. Before he ever saw the covered wagons and tents that made a home to the gypsies, he heard their warning calls like the hoot of owls. Lookouts informed the main tribe that outsiders were approaching. He didn't halt his mount until he reached the clearing.
    They sighted seven wagons in all, and many more tents. Though he saw no one about, he knew his party was watched as they dismounted. He reached for his mother and helped her down from her horse.
    There was a large enclosure where a recent fire lay banked. The duchess strode forward, pulling back her hood and removing her gloves to bend her hands toward the warm coals. John rested his hand on her back.
    In a matter of seconds, they found themselves completely surrounded. From the corner of his eye, he saw Grayson reach for the pistol stashed at his waistline. He held up a hand. "No, we came to talk. There is no need."
    He looked around the circle of men. Dark austere faces, hair black as the night, many hidden by colored bandanas. Billowing white shirts tucked in oft-patched trousers. At least two wore leather vests, hanging open over their shirts. A few wore bright slashes of red across their waists as a belt.
    With only the glow from the dying embers, it was difficult to distinguish faces. He patted his mother's back then held out both hands in supplication.
    "Is Ardaix still with you? Michel?"
    A young man stepped forward, and John recognized Michel with relief.
    Michel bowed. "Your Grace, have you come to order us off your lands?"
    So they knew his father had been laid to rest. He shook his head. "Of course not. You are always welcome." He stepped closer to his mother. "My mother and I are in need of your assistance. May we speak with Ardaix or whoever your clan leader is now?"
    An old woman pushed through the tight circle. Wisps of grey hair escaped from the red bandana covering her head, and a single, wide gold hoop hung from one ear. She confronted John before Michel could answer. "Why should we help you, gorgios?" she asked with menace, her gnarled finger stabbing into his face. "You are nothing to us."
    She had just called him an outsider, a gentile, but he didn't react, keeping his eyes intently on Michel. "Michel?"
    Michel turned away, and a large man stepped forward. John had already seen him at the back of the gathering, leaning against a wagon. He stopped in front of John with no explanation. His height was even with John's own, but his massive arms and chest could have crushed John. Glittering eyes bored into him. "What do you want, gorgio?"
    It was Ardaix.
    Before John could answer, the duchess rose from the fire and held out her graceful white hand. "How do you do, Ardaix? It has been a long time. Is your wife well? Your son?"
    To John's amazement, Ardaix took his mother's tiny hand in his own. "We are well, Teresa. You have just seen my son, Michel, but I have two sons now. Please accept our sadness for your bereavement."
    She nodded, and