Free Gypsy Moon by Becky Lee Weyrich

storm.
    “Those of us in this camp are of the Lowara tribe—the horse traders—and the kumpania of Valencia. Once our people roamed the Transylvania plains at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains. We know Russia, the Balkans, the Sacro Monte caves of Spain. Most recently we came from Wales. Only one year have we been in America.” Tamara’s face clouded suddenly and she shook her head. “I do not wish to speak of the sea voyage. Gypsies are not good sailors, I’m afraid. But we traveled from Liverpool to the great city of New York, then on to meet the other circus people in Philadelphia before heading for this wild country.”
    “All of you came together, Tamara?”
    She nodded. “Thirty-six of us, counting little Svetslav, who was born on the boat. A few others joined us from a circus troupe in Philadelphia.”
    “But Mateo has been with you all along?”
    Tamara smiled. “Ah, so now we get to your real interest, Charlotte Buckland! Yes, Mateo came from Wales, where he bred and trained horses for the racecourses of England.”
    “He’s a fine man,” Charlotte said, hoping to prod Tamara into further discussion of Mateo.
    “As well he should be! The only son of the queen has grave responsibilities to the familia.”
    The family, Charlotte thought. Always the family! She felt a sudden overwhelming resentment at being an outsider—a gajo.
    “Do Mateo’s responsibilities to the familia extend to populating the entire western territory with hordes of little Gypsies?” Even to her own ears, the question sounded harsher than she had intended.
    Tamara stared at her, perplexed. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
    Charlotte got up and paced for a moment, embarrassed at having to discuss the subject with such an innocent. “I met a mob of children at the circus—at least a dozen. They all claimed their father was Mateo. They said he would beat them if I didn’t give them money.”
    To Charlotte’s total consternation, Tamara laughed out loud.
    “I didn’t think it was funny, Tamara! How many children does Mateo have? How many wives? Or is the son of the queen free to take his pleasure wherever he finds it?”
    Tamara caught Charlotte’s hand and coaxed her back into her chair before she said, “I’m sorry, my friend. I shouldn’t have laughed. I can see that the experience upset you terribly. You met many children, you say. Poor Little Pesha?”
    Charlotte nodded.
    “That child! At times I think she should be beaten! But of course, we don’t believe in such cruel punishment, not even for naughty little liars.”
    “Then you mean Pesha isn’t Mateo’s daughter?”
    “Certainly not! Nor are any of her accomplices who besieged you. They are a crafty pack of high-spirited con artists. They know that Mateo is the star of the circus. So they call him their father, thinking that the gajo customers will give them more, out of respect for his high position and great talent in the ring. Mateo has never married, although he is well past the age when most of the Rom take brides. He must marry soon. He is a child of Queen Zolande’s autumn years. She is very old and infirm. The familia cannot be left without a leader, and Mateo is the chosen one.”
    “He’ll marry Phaedra?”
    Tamara shrugged. “As Fate wills. She is his, if he wants her. But there are unusual factors to be considered in Mateo’s choice of a bride, for she will also be queen. I think he has delayed his final decision, hoping against hope that some ancient prophecy will be fulfilled.”
    Charlotte slumped back in her chair, weak with relief, and smiled. “Thank you, Tamara. I was so worried about those children, even though I only half believed what they said.” She didn’t mention that most of her relief came from knowing that Mateo had not yet chosen the woman with whom he wished to share his life.
    “A word of caution, my friend. Only half believe anything that a Gypsy tells you. We have kept ourselves safe from the world by never