| |
A FACE APPEARS IN THE small window. He notices her name above the door, ‘Janda clairvoyant’ in carved letters.
“Come in.”
The woman opens a creaky door, butted against steps.
“Thank you, Janda.”
Garty bounces up the steps, ducks his head to avoid collision with the top door jamb and finds himself inside. A shuts the door. Her angry face is now uncovered and her black veil falls on her shoulders. Her dress was the purest white linen. Not bad for a pauper, Garty thinks, wondering from whom she stole the fabric? Or did she create the fabric? Can she be the one who had the child in her grip? He wonders? Now, however, she is an informant, so he is on his best behavior.
“Sit, here.”
She shows a crafter chair with engravings of angels and demons. Its well-worn seat glistening from the best bottoms sliding.
“Thank you, Janda.”
Garty sits.
The woman is seated opposite. She glares into his face for a point, so he keeps his mind clear just in case she can read minds. He waits for her to speak first, a courtesy that she appreciates.
“I told ye that I would divulge information regarding a baby I have seen in the district.”
Garty nods and waits again. “Say on,”
He wants her to hurry.
She chooses what to say. That is fair enough.
“What I saw, I can recall. It happened on the hill. Marauders had taken booty from the castle itself. They were jovial for a long time. We waited until they settled.”
She looks up from her thoughtful pose.
He wonders why she did not consult the crystal ball he sees on a shelf behind her head. But, he said nought.
“Drink.”
She draws a jug from a cupboard. She fills two little cups with liquid.
“Apple cider.”
Slurps the drink. Garty slurps his drink in respect.
“One of our clan got the box, shaped like a giant egg.”
Well, Garty’s thoughts rang like a bell. Why had he not heard this? Her secrets unfurl.
He leans closer to hear. He sees the whites of her eyes. She responds with a warning stare.
“An egg!”
She scowls at his stupidity.
“It was not an egg, but a marvelous jewel studded crib, handmade!”
Garty ponders this description of a crib. An egg is a crib? He tries to visualize the object in vain.
She sees his curious expression and smacks the table.
“I shall show thee.”
She wipes her nose as she bumbles through the caravan, then bends down on the floor, emits a tremendous groan and rises again, holding an object shaped like an egg with its shell split on top. It is a cloth covered frame.
“This is the crib they borrowed from the marauders, those evil thieves,”
He examines the crib. It has a bamboo shell. The cloth is worn so much it is transparent. He also notices that objects, perhaps as large as buttons, have been ripped off, leaving small holes and loose threads all over its frame. He manipulates the creaking twin tops that join at top center. A hand could pull either hood down. He is impressed.
“It is a very unusual crib.”
A piece of evidence.
“What’s the story you wish to share?”
“It was so special. Everyone’s eyes lit up when they saw it. Over time, the jewels were shared.”
Garty was convinced this is true. He required to know more. And if this family were surnamed Kiano?
“What about the child?”
The baby was important.
Her eyes light up like a globe. She rocks her head, as if trying to rock a baby.
“She was a delightful baby, so sleepy that nobody knew.”
Did they kill her? His blood turned cold at his own thoughts. He waited for the gypsy woman to continue her story.
“When we found her.... It was a serious crime. We all felt that way. We would never steal a little one, just the jewels, in line with our gypsy code!”
Gold flashes from her mouth.
“Where is she?”
Did they trade the child for jewels and she will not say?
This idea came to mind.
The woman shakes herself.
“I do not know, nor does anybody else!”
So that is that. Everyone knows what happened years ago, but nothing about the missing baby. I have wasted my day and my time, he thought, groaning with sudden weariness at his own failings.
“But I know where we took her.”
Janda leans on the board with its three legs. It shakes with her vehemence. She draws her shroud over her face, hiding her bitter emotions, Garty assumes.
“Please tell me more.”
Garty dumbs down his flailing exuberance.
“The orphanage, that’s where she was left, wrapped in a special scarlet shawl, the poor little darling. It broke my heart...”
She stops as her emotions surge.
Was she involved in this kidnapping and disposal of a child? Garty takes mental notes. He restrains his disdain. He peers into her half-hidden face and he notes fear flashing through her eyes.
“Do not be troubled. Which orphanage?”
That is the clue.
“There, over there,” she says, waving her arms towards the woods beyond. She searches her mind for the name of the orphanage. “Grave..., no, ‘Graceful’ is the name. The place is empty now. She was there!”
Garty is disturbed and excited about this revelation. The woman rises and hurries towards the little window, peeping through the curtains using a strong word that Garty ignores. She turns back towards Garty and despite her veil, he can see her face is ashen, as if she has seen a vision.
“Get out. They followed you!” Her tone is one of anger and dismay.
“This way.” She wiggles past the table and tugs on a rolled up tapestry on the end wall, allowing it to flop down, showing a tapestry of horses and riders. She pushes open a small door behind the scene. The door swings open, revealing a platform outside. “Now!” She speaks with urgency. Garty almost forgets his hat. He doubles up and crawls through the small open door, designed for children, he muses, as he coils and turns to bring his shoulders through. The woman speaks to someone he did not know was seated below the doorway.
“Crystalina, get Snow and Sir Garty out of here. They are coming yonder!” Her tone is snappy.
Garty, for the first time, sees a figure hunched over a loom. He thinks she is old. She turns her face towards him, flicking her long hair.
“Yes, Mother,” Crystalina replies.
His heart almost stops when he sees the creature before him, placing her loom on hold and rising from a three-legged stool.
Her eyes are so beautiful, like two crystal balls in one face.
His own eyes boggle. Mother is Janda. He is broken in one look from this young woman. Her hair glistens in the sunlight. It appeared as dark as night and as bright as sapphire and amethyst blended. She is sleek, not very tall and her figure is superb, delightful to his eyes. His face turns pink with his own thoughts of delight. How can this miracle happen to a grouchy, introverted, and crazy woman? I have spent a good hour of my time listening to her meandering! His fuming subsides as her voice interjects.
“Come now, we are waiting.”
Crystalina sits bareback, with Brill next to her.
The knight hears her voice, like music to his ears. Garty Musdo shakes his thoughts as if they are snowflakes and stares at first, unable to think. He gazes at her in awe. She is seated on a white horse with its mane flowing in the gentle breeze. This virginal damsel sits without a saddle; controls two horses. His eyes mist over and he wonders if he is dreaming. He must wake up before they are all captured!
With that thought in mind, Garty leaps from the small balcony, takes the reins, grasps the pommel, locks his left foot in the iron stirrup, and mounts Brill, flicking his cape. His desire soars to impress an empress, flaunting the peril of his life or reputation for a ride alongside.
Crystalina is already hugging her horse, around its neck, and her ebony satin hair tie has fallen to the ground. Her body is leaning forward and he can just see an outline of her perky rump, round as a robin’s breast and strong as a young horse’s rump. The woman’s glistening blue-black hair flows behind her as the silken veil of her novitiate. Her voice is husky-sweet and demanding.
“Ride low and fast, Mr. Garty.”
She orders him in a guttural voice.
How does she know my name? She is a genius, he moans, heaving a huge breath. He almost faints with excitement as his thoughts rush back and forth. Ride low, he repeats and fast, he adds, repeating her sumptuous words to his soul. His heart cannot respond but beats faster as if it is rocketing to the moon.
“They will shoot. They are killers. Faster!”
Snow, her horse bolts! She hangs on like a circus act, thrilling and courageous.
No time for fear now, Garty thinks, somehow jubilant, yet dismayed at the unknown possibilities.
He rides like the wind, and she rides as a whirlwind! Brill must keep up with a fine white stallion with hair the color of clouds and dark wild-eyed pupils. Brill is up for it and loves every minute. Fifteen minutes of hard riding sees them go through a thicket.