Read Online Gypsy Jewel by Patricia McAllister - Free Book Online Page B

“Some who were once Manouches live with our band now. You will meet them later. Perhaps you share the same friends.”
    Damien decided to be direct with this man, whom he wished to deceive as little as possible. “It’s not likely,” he admitted, “for I am not Rom by birth, but only choice.”
    Damien told Jingo a dramatic tale, though one still holding a kernel of truth, about how he had run away from his family and joined the Romany. Since then, he added, he had traveled widely, visiting with different bands, but staying with none for long.
    “I have chosen the wind for my brother,” Damien said, quoting a phrase he remembered one of the gypsies saying in the camp he had visited when he was fifteen.
    Jingo smiled in understanding. How well he knew a young man’s urge to escape and wander the world, and how sometimes, once it was in the blood, a man was called to seek such a life forever. With keen eyes he assessed this gajo stranger, this romani rei , who seemed sincere enough and truly interested in the Lowara people.
    “Which way did you come?” he asked, and listened intently to Damien’s story. Then he said, “I have heard of this war in the north. I had thought to delay our next move until things were settled.”
    “You are wise. The fighting has spread to the mountain passes, and travel is no longer safe,” Damien agreed. Then he gave a whittled version of what he actually knew of the latest troop movements. The two men talked for a time of the foolishness of gaje , fighting over land that should belong to everyone, and warmed to each other in the process.
    Contrary to Damien’s expectations, Jingo’s imposing size was complemented by a merry, gentle nature. And the king found his unexpected visitor informative and amusing after long weeks on the road.
    Considering carefully what Damien had said about the war, the gypsy king confessed, “Even with the war, we must move on soon. For several weeks we have been searching for another band of Rom.”
    Damien knew that was unusual for gypsies. “You are having a reunion or a wedding?”
    Jingo sighed and shook his wiry dark head. “No, nothing so pleasant. There has been great conflict in our tribe recently. The Lowara are torn between two of their own.” He saw Damien looked curious but unwilling to pry, and it gave him greater respect for the man. “Something bad happened. One of our young men was attacked in the woods.”
    “Was he hurt?”
    Jingo shook his head again. “More pride than flesh was hurt that day. You see, the one who attacked him was a young woman. She claimed he was forcing himself upon her.”
    Looking puzzled, Damien ventured, “I don’t understand. You said they were both of your tribe?”
    “Yes. There were three other witnesses who claim the girl invited him, but others believe the boy lies. It is not a simple thing to find someone who does not know either one of them. The tribe is divided by their stories.”
    “So you are looking for another band from which to draw an impartial judge,” Damien said. “It seems the wisest course.”
    “But we have wandered for over two weeks, and the war has driven most Rom off,” Jingo explained. “So my people grow frustrated with the delay in justice. Half think the girl should be banished, but there are young men who beg to have her hand in marriage just to save her from a terrible fate.”
    “She must be quite a woman,” Damien said, envisioning the brassy, full-blown wench who had been making eyes at him earlier.
    Jingo said soberly, “She is like no other here. I admit I do not know what will happen to her. The mood of the camp changes each day. Lately the rumors have been leaning toward the boy’s tale.”
    “Why tell this to me?” Damien asked.
    Jingo shrugged. “You see my plight. A decision must be made swiftly before someone is hurt. We need an outsider,” and his dark eyes bored into Damien’s directly, “to settle their differences as soon as