The Missing Gypsy
“So what’s The Story Girl going
to tell today?” Brigand asked me as I ate my bread, which for us constituted
as a breakfast.
“Something funny,” I replied. “The
parents of some of the children have been complaining I have been telling
too many sad stories. And I usually get more money if it’s happy anyhow,
it’s just that I’ve been in a sad mood,” I took a deep breath before continuing,
“And..”
“ ‘A gypsy’s job represents their
moods’.” Sovereign finished a well known saying for me. I nodded and snuck
Kaleb the rest of my bread. Brigand snatched it away from me when she saw
what I was doing.
“We can barely afford that bread
and you feed it to that crow of yours,” she started.
A perfect time to leave, I thought,
and gathering up my shawl and hat, sauntered over to a sunny corner to
tell the story of the day. Kaleb landed on my shoulder, and settled himself
for an early mornings’ nap. Racking my brain for one I enjoyed telling,
and one that was happy, I came up with the perfect one, even if it wasn’t
that joyful.
A small crowd of children had already
gathered. The mothers stood behind them, gossiping the latest news and
sharing personal happenings.
“My sister was not called Sovereign
Brigand before she earned the title,” I began dramatically. I heard one
old woman announce rather loudly to another that gypsies always had a flare
for dramatisim, especially when they wanted you to rob you blind. Shooting
her a look, I continued, “She had never really wanted that title, but somehow
she became a protector and a ruler of a small band of gypsies. Listen now
children, and I will unravel her tale.”
I continued to tell the story, as
I knew it, catching the interests of a few soldiers. The soldiers where
trying to look inconspicuous from behind the parents, but soldiers can
never look inconspicuous. Maybe it has something to do with their armor
or their leader, which in this case was Judge Claude Frollo. I think the
latter was right, but I could never voice my opinions too loud, unlike
my sister, who had a poem made up about Frollo, that, well, wasn’t to nice,
to say the least.
I finished the tale and collected
a few meager coins from the parents. It wasn’t much, but it would buy me
and Brigand lunch. Heading over to her usual location, I realized the soldiers
where following me. Ducking into an alley and behind a baker’s stall I
out ran them. They weren’t big on allies, “because it rusted their armor,”
Sovereign said, but us gypsies practically lived in them. I stopped at
a local store and bought three croissants, feeding one to Kaleb who had
just woken up.
It was around noon and Brigand either
had a whole band of Frollo’s men after her, or a lot of money. And it usually
wasn’t the last one mentioned. Today was no exception. I was just about
to round a corner when she came shooting past me, grabbing my arm as she
did and yanking me down the street. As we ran I threw her the croissant
and asked nochalantly,
“Why are they chasing us?” She smiled,
and replied, “I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t like my choice of poetry.”
I sighed and pulled her into a crowded pub. We lost the soldiers in there,
going out through the kitchen, and causing the cook to have a fit over
his recked soufflé. Sovereign yelled back that it still tasted good.
“I’ll have to go there for lunch
one day,” she shouted to me, still running. We ran until we where way out
of sight of any of Frollo’s men. “I always like to have a little exercise
with my lunch meal,” she said as we where walking back.
“I thought you weren’t supposed
to run until an hour after you’ve eaten,” I remarked.
“There are exceptions,” she replied
and then said we would split up for the rest of the day. “Meet me at the
entrance!” she called before I turned out of sight. I didn’t want to tell
another story, so I sauntered aorund the city until it was time to meet
Brigand. I walked into a dark alley that to anyone else looked like a dead
end.
Only us gypsies knew the truth,
it was the entrance to our home, The Court of Miracles. It never seeces
to amaze me of how big the Court is. The bright colors of the tents make
up for the stone walls and even the place where they hang people managed
to look cheerful. We made our way to our tent. The tent is purple on the
outside, but inside it is a turquoise. Sovereign has painted scenes of
people and places all over the wall. (Brigand was an excellent artist,
but couldn’t sell or give away any of her paintings because, as she put
it, “I paint my soul in each one.”)
Their weren’t very many furnishings
inside. Just two mats to sleep on, a chair and small table and a chest
we kept our clothes and possesions in.
“So did you have any more soldier
run-in’s?” I asked sitting on my mat.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Sovereign
replied, raising her eyebrow and composing another poem in her head, probably
making fun of Frollo no doubt. I was just about to answer when my friend
ran into the tent.
“Kenny’s gone!” she cried. Kenny
was her younger brother, and having no parents, she cared for him.
“Calm down, Patty, and tell me what
happened,” I told her. She told me her story, while sitting nervously on
the floor. Apparently she had been dancing and her brother playing the
flute. At lunch time, Kenny had complained that he was rather tired, so
she told him to sit there and she would come back with lunch. When she
had come back, her money and her brother where gone. I didn’t know what
to do, and telling her so brought her more tears. Finally Brigand stood
up and explained to her that we, Rayne and I, would save him. I just love
how she always involves me in everything, without her asking. It’s really
considerate of her. Others may not be offended by it, but because I knew
her so well, I was. The plans usually got me in trouble.
The next morning we were all tired.
We had been up all night, going over the plan frontwards and backwards,
so we wouldn’t forget it. It was a usual ‘Sovereign Brigand Plan’. That
means it has one in a hundred chance of working. Except I probably shouldn’t
joke because most of her plans do work, because when you go up against
soldiers, the odds suddenly drop.
The first part of the plan was my
job. I walked by the jail, where Kenny probably would be. Sure enough I
heard his wailings. Really, I’m surprised we couldn’t hear him at The Court
of Miracles. I went sweetly up to the soldiers, and asked,
“Kind sir, when will that gypsy
be hung?” I had normal clothing, so I didn’t look like a gypsy at all.
“Noon, Judge Frollo says at noon,”
he replied.
“Thank you,” I answered and disappeared
into the crowds. I ran into Brigand and Patty just around the corner and
cried, “At noon, we’re never going to make it!” Sovereign told me to be
quiet, except not so nicely, and went to do her part.
Going up to the soldier, she told
him that her brother was in there and “could I please just tell him I’m
alright.” The soldier consented, not being very smart. And in Brigand went.
“Kenny, it’s your sister dear,” she said loud enough for him to hear. Then
whispereing, “We’re going to get you out don’t worry.”
She came back to us saying, “That
was a cinch! All his keys are on his desk, and with our secret weapon he’ll
be out by lunch.”
“But what if he isn’t?” I asked.
“Then...”
“Can’t you look on the good side
at least once in your life,” Brigand inquired. Patty stopped us before
we could have an all out war, which usually happened when we got mad. I
see no point in only doing things half-way or looking at things from only
one view. Because what if the view you look at something with doesn’t turn
out. Then it was Patty’s turn. She was dressed as a soldier, one Sovereign
had kindly bonked on the head with ‘our surprise’. I’m just amazed it didn’t
break, knowing how hard soldier’s heads are. “Present for you,” she said,
handing him the bottle of wine. We had poisoned it, a mild poisoning, Sovereign
had assured me, but somehow I doubt it, with Brigand nothing is mild.
The guard took it with no question.
Patty was dressed as his senior officer and soldiers don’t ask questions
to people higher up then them. Surprised by the present he opened it and
took a sip. The poison was strong and knocked him out right away.
“Where’d you get it,” I asked my
sister.
“I kindly lightened the load of
a wine merchant, and I used a poison Mama taught me to make,” was her reply.
Who knows if it was honest. We made our way to Kenny’s cell, taking the
keys that had been so conviniently left on the table. Freeing Kenny, I
went to another stall and put the key in the lock. “Don’t,” Sovereign said,
“we don’t know what they’re here for.” “
It’s not fair we free some an not
others,” I replied
“We came to get Kenny, and we’re
leaving with him,” She said sending me a Look, that shocked me out of what
I was going to say. “And only him.” She finished. I could see her logic,
but it still wasn’t fair. All these people in here, and some of them probably
being gypsies themselves. But she was my older sister, and I had to respect
her, to a point, so I followed her and Patty. Sovereign had given me Kenny
to hold, since he had broken his leg, probably so I wouldn’t get into trouble.
We stepped into the sunlight carefully,
first Brigand, Patty, then Kenny and me. Since I was last I didn’t hear
the shout from behind yelling something about gypsies. I only heard Sovereign
yell, her famous word,
“Run!!” My body took over my mind
and dash from alley to alley, following my sister and Patty. We finally
stopped in an alley that led to the Court. (What’d you think, that we only
had one way to get out?)
That night I had terrible dreams
in which soldiers kept chasing me. I wonder where I got the idea from.
Boy, Sovereign was going to get an earful when I finally got up.
“Rayne, wake up,” Brigand called
as she dropped my breakfast on me. “It’s way past the time you usually
get up, and that stupid bird has been cawing for hours.”
The End (Tell Rayne what you think, kay?)