Chapter 7

“No!” Etti’s heart banged in alarm at the thought of Jilé taking Red. “Wait!” She cried to Ruslo. “I’ll ask Uncle Dody and get you the extra money. Please.”

Ruslo pushed Etti off his arm and pointed boldly to Rafa. “Sold for twenty-four pounds,” he said under a tightly furrowed brow.

“My price is higher,” Jilé said.

“You don’t exist to me, or anyone in my kumpania. You were banished years ago. You cannot bid.”

“Marshal!” Durril bellowed. “My brother bid the highest price for this horse. Laws of the fair say he gets the horse, isn’t that right?”

“They have both been banished from our tribe,” Ruslo explained to the marshal. “To us, neither one of them exists.”

The marshal asked people in the crowd what happened, and they recounted the bids.

“I’m sorry, Ruslo,” the marshal said. “Our rules prevail over any tribal rules. He made the successful bid. He gets the horse.”

Ruslo cast an apologetic look to Etti and lowered his voice. “If we naysay him on this, we risk expulsion from the fair—mayhap other fairs, if word spreads.”

“No!” Etti fisted her hands to her chest. “No!”

Ruslo’s eyes narrowed. “Are you able to pay the thirty pounds you bid?”

“Right here.” Durril raised Jilé’s hand, which held a large, heavily soiled bag of duck cloth with circular lumps visible on the outside. “Give me the reins, Ruslo,” Durril said. “Give him the coins, Jilé, and let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, Etti.” Ruslo handed Durril the reins.

Durril and Jilé grinned at her agony. When she was very young, she’d seen their cruelty with the doves, pulling their feathers out, one by one. She’d seen them teasing the tribal dogs with bones and kicking them when they came within range of their boots. Outrage blinded Etti. She cried out, a guttural cry such as one would hear from a trapped animal. She grabbed the lead. They may drag her out of the fair, but she would never leave Red in their cruel care.

“I’ll pay thirty-two,” Rafa said. His friend Jardani’s mouth dropped, and he grabbed Rafa’s arm as if to stop him.

Rafa brushed free, shaking his head at Jardani. “Leave the horse, and I’ll get you the money within the hour.”

“Too late. As it is too late for my face,” Jilé said, tracing the horsewhip cut along his eyebrow. “This scar will cost you. I told you that, remember?”

Neither one of these miscreants could afford thirty pounds, let alone how much money was in that bag. Perhaps they gained the trust of a wealthy buyer. “Who are you buying horses for?” Rafa asked.

Durril sneered. “We have a very important customer who wants this horse. We have good instincts about horses, and their owners. This buyer will pay us anything for this horse. Even forty pounds.”

“Or maybe fifty if he waits too long,” Jilé mocked, his mouth stretched into a half smile.

Rafa lunged toward Jilé.

 

Jilé slid behind Red, laughing. “I said I’d get even. You bargain with me if you want to please my comely sister, but you’re going to need even more coins.” Jilé lifted his eyebrows and pointed a finger skyward. “An idea for you. Mayhap you’ll trade for your horse—what’s his name? Oh, va! Dark Tide. Give us Dark Tide, and you can have the bitch mare. Even up.”

Etti reached up, pushing Jilé. “I hate you. I hate you both. She pointed a fist at Jilé and shook it. “May blood pour from your ears. May your arms wither and fall off your body. May you both die a violent death if you harm this beautiful horse.”

“Enough.” Ruslo pulled her to the side and lowered his voice. “The fair marshal is standing right there. You cause me disgrace.”

Etti lowered her head. As big and strong as he was, Ruslo had been known to grow quickly shamed among crowds, and Etti had screamed curses in front of all these people. “I—”

“Be silent.” Ruslo lowered his voice even more. “This is your fault. Why did I agree to this? I could have sold Red to the woman, but you kept shaking your head and distracting me so that I didn’t see your drunkard brothers arrive.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“That’s your problem. The way you think. You think a hedgehog is a pet, but he’s only a stupid hedgehog. He’s dinner. That’s all! And you win a race with Red and you suddenly think she’s yours, that she has a human spirit? Red is a horse. We bought her to heal her and sell her, like we do all the horses. You didn’t buy Red. I did. You didn’t train Red. Kennick did. Red is no more than a horse, but you talked me into bartering as if trying to find a sinless parent for an orphan child.”

Ruslo’s voice ground as he spoke, and tiny droplets of spittle struck Etti’s face. She wished she would swoon.

“And now,” Ruslo muttered, “your hellish brothers have her. The marshal is staring at me. I look the fool.” He took the reins and shoved her toward the door. “Go back to your wagon and stay there.”

Etti stumbled away. She ran out the door, but once outside, crept to the window and listened. She’d wait until her brothers left with Red, and she would ambush them. Could she kill them? No, but she would knock them out and take Red and Pesha, and she would go… where? She remembered their cruelty and her vision wobbled through tears.

Hesitant to barge into Ruslo’s position as seller, Rafa remained silent, glaring at the brothers and recalling the previous night. They had arrived uninvited and unwanted at Ruslo’s fire. Details came back. They had eaten ravenously, ripping greedy shares of pork off the pigs, and they had gulped down the ale. Even now, their tunics sagged at the seams from age, their boots old, their hats tattered.

How could these reprobate brothers rub two coins together, let alone a whole bag of coins? Rafa tamped down his rage at their taunts about Dark Tide and considered it. Where would they get so much money?

Durril was standing by Ruslo, speaking loudly and attracting attention. Sandu had backed away, his face tense, mayhap even more embarrassed than Ruslo. Buyers from surrounding stalls gathered, curious about the strange affair at Red’s stable. Durril loudly counted out the coins, and Jilé strode quickly, tugging Red toward the door. It became evident to Rafa—they had to have stolen the coins, right here at the fair.

Rafa grabbed Jilé’s wrist and and waved with his free arm. “Marshal!” Rafa called. “Arrest these thieves. They have stolen these coins.”

Ruslo’s eyes widened.

Durril turned to bolt, but Ruslo gripped his arm.

The marshal approached. “Do you have proof?”

Rafa did not. To save Red, he would have to stall. “These men are criminals.” Rafa retained his grip on Jilé. “They have no money, and represent no buyer. Ask them.”

“We do,” Jilé said. “It’s William Spence.”

“Waters,” Durril blurted at the same time, offering a different surname.

“There, see,” Rafa said. “Their lies expose them. By now, someone has to have reported that this money was stolen from them. Please, sound the alarm and let’s learn whose money this is.”

The marshal considered.

“Please,” Ruslo said. “These men are vermin, ‘tis why we banished them from our tribe.”

The marshal inserted two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The sound was repeated outside the stable, and soon several marshals arrived. The stable marshal reached for the bag of coins from Durril.

Durril tried but failed to twist away from him. “It’s mine, I tell you. I sold some fine horses before I came here.”

“It may be.” The marshal swept his gaze over Ruslo, Rafa and the brothers. “All of you will remain right here until we learn more. John,” the marshal pointed to another marshal. “Bring me that girl standing outside at the window. She’s somehow involved, too.”

Etti returned, and within minutes, a well-dressed man arrived, a jeweler by his clothes and the wealth of gold he wore. “Where’s my money?”

Durril’s eyes grew big.

The jeweler looked at Jilé. “You’re the man my wife described.” The jeweler turned to the marshal. “I have a stand outside the west door of the stables,” he said. “When the marshals came round and mentioned the bag, I checked our tent. I found her, beaten and tied up. She said that man,” he pointed at Jilé, “came to her stand. While she showed them her leather bit collars, someone slashed the back of our tent and rummaged through it. When my wife heard him and ran into the tent to investigate, they beat her, tied and gagged her. That’s my cash bag.”

Durril pulled the bag close to his chest. “I sold her a horse. A great horse! You didn’t want her to have it but she bought it any way, and gave me this money. You must have beaten her yourself when you found out.” Durril’s eyes darted from one marshal to the other, reading their expressions. His eyes narrowed, and he punched Ruslo in the throat and freed his hand. He reached in his tunic and pulled a knife. Shouting a garbled curse, he slashed Ruslo’s forearm and snatched Red’s reins.

Ruslo released his grip on Durril and watched blood flow down his fingers. A look of fury crossed his features.

“Here! Take it!” Durril yelled and tossed the reins to Jilé. He slit the bag of coins with his knife, slinging it upward.

The coins flew out of the bag, falling like rain in Red’s stable, and all the way across the aisle.

For a moment Etti and the men froze, watching the coins fall, shillings and florins and crowns. Assorted notes fell among the coins as well, drifting downward like autumn leaves.

Men dove for the coins, grasping and fighting for the more valuable ones.

The jeweler cried out. “Stop them!”

The marshals shouted for order and the men shouted back, refusing to stop scooping up the coins.

Durril flipped the bag of coins upside down to stop their spilling.

Jilé slapped Red’s reins in Rafa’s face and turned to run. Rafa held on.

Jilé pulled a knife with his free hand and slashed at Rafa’s chest.

Rafa pulled back. His tunic sagged, wet with blood.

Men pushed from behind, diving for the coins. The crowd swarmed for the money, and the marshals grew tangled in the throng.

Jilé led Red for a while but became tangled in all the people. Cursing, he stabbed Red in the shoulder.

Red screamed and reared up.

“Red!” Etti cried.

Rafa reached up, grabbing for the reins, trying to calm Red. When he turned to look, he saw no trace of either brother.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon sky had slumped into a dull grey. Storm clouds rolled in, darkening the stable stalls. Dody lit a second lantern and hung it high and out of the way so prospective buyers could better inspect Hanzi’s horse, Chooter. Ruslo and Hanzi joined Dody at the side of the stall, out of the buyers’ way.

Chooter, a tan palfrey, had retreated to the back of his stall. A girl almost entering womanhood gently approached him. Her calm manner suggested she knew horses, and she seemed beguiled with the white marking on the palfrey’s forehead. It resembled an upside down quarter moon. She reached for the moon, talking softly to the horse. He leaned in to her, and she smiled at her father. “He likes me.”

“Looks promising,” Dody said. He didn’t care much for horses. They pulled his wagon and played a vital role in supporting the tribe so he respected them, but beyond proper grazing and health, he held little interest. After the episode in Red’s stall this morning, though, Dody saw that Red had achieved what he could not. Because of Etti’s favorite horse, Rafa’s virtues had been revealed to Ruslo. With the marriage council fast approaching, Dody now had some seeds to plant with Ruslo. He would find some private time with him this afternoon to do so.

Kennick arrived, a wooden mane comb in his hand to pull Chooter’s mane straight. Seeing potential buyers in the stall, though, he walked past the horse. He noted the girl and her father getting acquainted with Chooter and joined Ruslo, Dody and Hanzi.

“How’s Red?” Ruslo asked.

“Jilé’s knife hit the bone and missed the artery. Could have been much worse,” Kennick said.

“So why do you look so worried?” Dody asked.

“Infection. We cleaned the wound. It appears the knife was sharp, and we’ll hope it was clean, too.” Kennick ran his fingernail over the teeth of the comb. “Hanzi, prithee help with Red while we tend to her wound.”

Kennick and Hanzi left and the buyers wandered off to other stalls, leaving Ruslo and Dody alone.

Ruslo sank his big frame onto a stool, and Dody swung a foot onto the lower rung of the stall divider, relieving his back. “How is your arm?” Dody asked.

Ruslo held out his huge forearm, showing him the bandage. “All clean and sewn. I’m fine.”

“I hope Red will be all right.” Dody pulled out his tree stick, gingerly placed it in his mouth, but changed his mind and put it away. “Jilé would have killed her, had he more time. Heartless bastards, those brothers,” Dody said, warming to the topic. “Jilé won’t have to worry about his thumb any more. If they catch them, he’ll lose his hand.”

“A just punishment for him.” Ruslo picked straws of hay off his tunic.

“Quite the surprise, Rafa bidding so generously on Red.”

“Twenty-four pounds! When I hoped for twenty,” Ruslo said.

“Wonder why he did that,” Dody ventured further.

Ruslo laughed. “A man’d be blind not to see. He did it for Etti, not me, though he impressed me when he agreed to buy Red anyway, in spite of the stab wound.”

“Yes,” Dody quickly agreed. “He impressed me with that, too.” Now that Ruslo had acknowledged Rafa’s honor, Dody would seek a commitment from him. “I talked with Rafa yesterday.” Dody weighed his words carefully. “He indicated that a man would be very lucky to have Etti as his bride. He showed great interest.” Not exactly, Dody admitted silently, but he would see that Rafa progressed to that point, and soon. Before the matchmaking.

Silence enfolded them, and Dody’s thoughts returned to the morning fracas. Ruslo had become angry with Etti over the bidding. Perhaps he would now be more willing to let her leave the tribe with Rafa.

“I’ve seen his affection for Etti. I know his father, and others from Rafa’s tribe. Rafa is a well regarded trainer for a man in his early twenties. You heard his plans for breeding, and—”

“I saw him race,” Ruslo interrupted.

Dody pushed free from the partition and stood taller. “I humbly ask that you consider matching Rafa with Etti at the council.”

Ruslo didn’t respond.

“She’s an odd bird, Etti,” Dody continued. “None of the boys in our tribe like her, and the women are uncomfortable with her and that damned hedgehog.”

At hearing of the hedgehog, Ruslo closed his eyes and shook his head.

Dody suppressed a smile. He had hit the target by speaking of the rodent.

“It will be a difficult pairing,” Ruslo admitted. “Mayhap she’ll grow out of her attraction to the hedgehog.”

Having seen his anger at Etti’s obsession with Red, Dody drove the next point in. “There’s more to it than the rodent. She has a strange link with all beasts. Look you at the trouble she caused with Red. What kind of dark power do you suppose animals have over her, that she would be so loyal?” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “She sleeps with the hedgehog.” Their tribe—indeed, all Gypsies—believed that animals possessed mysterious powers. They didn’t allow the tribal dogs to sleep with them for that reason, just as all dovecotes had roofs separate from where the Roma slept during the winter months.

Ruslo stroked his thin mustache. “This has to stop. I’ll have to get one of the boys to catch it and throw it in with the other hedgehogs for supper. She won’t know.”

“You think any of the boys will do that to her? After the curse she screamed at her brothers today?” Dody raised his brows. Etti would never know? Sure as the moon and sun would rise, she would, and she wouldn’t let it go unanswered. In truth, the boys were afeared of Etti. Ruslo would have to steal the hedgehog himself.

Ruslo tapped the stall divider, lost in thought. Dody knew he had hit home with the animals. Now to hit the heart of it. “Consider Etti’s brothers, too. They’re probably on a boat by now, off to Tours or Troyes.” Dody gingerly rubbed his lower lip, still swollen from the whip, hoping they’d pay dearly. “Etti cursed them, before many people. They’ll not take kindly to that. They’ll be back, like they were for me. Who in our tribe would be willing to take Etti into their family, with swine like her brothers causing trouble? They’re like a disease. After this morning, they may even be trouble for you and yours.”

Ruslo pressed his brows together.

“Sure as winter’s coming, they’ll return,” Dody said.

Ruslo rose from his stool. “You’ve argued well for her. The men will have their recommendations, but in the end, Dody, I will honor your request. I’ll match her for marriage to Rafa.”

Dody drew a sharp breath. Ruslo’s promise sounded much like the fine strains of Erki’s viol, sweet and pure.

“Considering Etti’s faults, and allowing what Rafa paid for Red today, I’ll set the bride price low.” Ruslo scorched Dody with a sideways glance, looming over him. “Say nothing of my decision.” His frown deepened. “To anyone.”

Dody dipped his head in a subtle salute that spoke undeniably of gratitude.

He opened his palms toward Ruslo. “Not a word. Thank you, Pen.” Dody used the affectionate term shared between the Rom.

Concealing his relief, Dody picked up the shovel to clean Chooter’s stall and started scooping. Now he would get Rafa to embrace the idea of betrothal to one sweet but irksome woman by the name of Etti.