"Shepherdess No Temptation"

Chapter 3 - "Shepherdess No Temptation"

         (from the 'lost' scrolls of Rennes-le-Chateau)

..::Come up with me, American love.

Kiss these secret stones with me.

The torrential silver of the Urubamba 

makes the pollen fly to its golden cup.


The hollow of the bindweed's maze,

the petrified plant, the inflexible garland,

soar above the silence of these mountain coffers.

 

Come, diminutive life, between the wings

of the earth, while you, cold, crystal

in the hammered air,

thrusting embattled emeralds apart,

O savage waters fall from hems of snow.
 

Love, love until the night collapses...::..

 

Pablo Neruda

The Heights of Macchu Picchu

                        . . . .



Love is no hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!


John Galsworthy
Forsythe Saga

                            . . . .

 Hear my soul speak:

 The very instant that I saw you, did

 My heart fly to your service.

(The Tempest, 3.1)

 

                           

                          . . . .

Nearing sunset now, the hills ceased their looming glare and began to fade into a soft golden glow, a relief to the eyes and mind.

 Josephina and Esperanza took dinner on the patio neath the orange tree. All was deceptively peaceful.
  Jo spoke up: 'It is Fernando...'


Fernando ran to the back gate, yelling, 'They are here! The gypsies are coming!'

   Bang! Bang! on the gate...
  'I saw them coming up the valle below! They will arrive tonight! Hola?!' He leaped, waving his hat.

 

Jo took pity and opened the gate, 'Fernando! Buenas noches! The sheep are in?' She regarded the boy, so full of life after a long hot day.
  Not Josephina...she longed for comida and bed.


 

  'Si, of course,' he looked at her, offended that he would be thought remiss. 'All of them...' he put a hand out as Lobo's sister, Zorrita, Little Vixen, rounded the gate.

'Wash up and come sit with us. Have a bowl of stew...' Esperanza indulged Fernando. Jo was wary of him. ('He sticks like a goat-head in the sandal,' she complained.)

'Perhaps, uno pocito. I wish to head down to the valle and welcome the wagons.'

 

                              

'Where were they when you last saw them?' she asked, serving him a bowl of mutton, (tis the season), stew and tortillas.

 

  With gusto he attacked. 'They are nearing the Riverbend. By sundown, they should be camped!' He grinned, shy and well-pleased.

 

'Elena will want to keep her sheep in, for marketing at the fiesta,' Esperanza mused. 'We are off to the village manana, early.'

 

 Fernando finished his bowl. 'I have the day off, then!' He stood, 'Gracias dona Esperanza, Josephina,' he bowed like a gentleman. Then, snatching his hat, he smiled and waved it as he ran for the gate. 'I'm off to see the gypsies! Adios!'

   He's like a jackrabbit on coffee with burrs in his tail.' Jo smiled. 'As soon as he wakes.' She stopped smiling.

  'Are you so worn out from soaking in a hot pool all day, then?' Esperanza yawned. 'I think I am for bed early. We will be leaving with Elena at dawn, you know! Buenos noches, already.'

 

 

Jo swept the patio, dried the clean dishes, then for the real job: she fetched her lonesome mandolin.

 

  This friend had now, alas, become a stranger to her. It was a sorrow and a shame...hijole...
   She brought Felix beneath the orange tree, and leaning against it, watched the sun disappear behind the glow of hills in the west, slowly become a tenebrous purpling mass of shadows against Vulcan's fading glow. Cthulhu at any moment...

                                

She tentatively fingered a few chords and loosened up with scales, then re-tuned the reticent rascal, filled with remorse at her lack of practice of late. Mea Culpa... If Emmelina had been  practicing, it would be a vergonzoso day of humiliating defeat for Josephina.
   It was Carlos' fault.

   

Carlos had been busy working on his violins,  for the great Feast Day of the Magdalena. The gypsies were often customers. Although they came into contact with some fine old instruments, they preferred to sell them if they had been in the dubious hands of the gadjos.


Carlos' name was known from San Francisco to Santiago, and, in his day, had been a famous performer in demand at illustrious concert halls throughout the world.
  Now he built violins, and played for his friends, but no more did he suffer the slings and arrows of public performance.

 

He hadn't had time for his young apprentice in many weeks now, and Jo had, somehow? -- also forgotten her practice sessions with the coming of spring...
  She was, after all, only 17.
 

  But now, it was time to pay the piper and she found herself bereft ...
 

 

                      . . . .

'Josephina! A donde va usted? Acci!' Emmelina, the gypsy princess, stood upon a wagonload of casks, waving a long purple scarf and calling out to her across the esplanade.
  'Emmelina!' Jo returned the greeting, pressed in close among the market-goers who seemed headed in the opposite direction.


 As all who bore the olfactory sense, fine-tuned by the long day's journeying could discern, enticing and varied aromas from the cooking corrals were wafted on the wind...all manner of spice-rubbed and herb-covered roasting venison, fish, pig, calf, sheep and goat were now reaching the soon-relished pinnacle of perfection.
    If once it ran on legs or swam the rivers, it's long home was here and now. Thanks be to Gaia. Vaya con Dagon!

 

'Madonna, the crush!' Josephina could barely move, but at least she knew which direction to home in on her target: Emmelina, whom she could still hear blasting a mixed torrent of Spanish and Portueuese at the indifferent crowd.

'Jo, here, take my arm!'

  'Jose! Diosa be thanked!' Jo did just that, and clasped her arms about Jose's as he helped her out from the teeming throng.

'Arriba! Excellent, Jose!' Emmelina reached down to Josephina and helped haul her aboard the welcoming wagon.

'At last! Oooh!' Jo turned to Em and clasped her dear long-lost amiga to her and hugged her close, squeezing several times til the gypsy girl coughed and gasped.

  'Ahh, your ardor undoes me, mi amiga! Af!' Emmelina caught her breath, then laughed, 'It is good to see you also; just look at you!' She held Jo from her studying closely.
   Jo rather hoped she'd not inquire about her mandolin playing.
  'You are not such a nina, now. You will break hearts, that is sure...' A fine sacrifice to the Elder Gods...

 

'No, oh no, Emmelina...I am interested in no one's heart, but yours and your family's. Much to the sorrow of Fernando the Persistent.
  Em chuckled. 'Have seat here.' They sat along the wooden edge of the wagon where the casks were lightly roped within.

                         

 

 'Zandor is at the roasting corral, finishing business. We brought two deer to the feast! Wild game, you know; mesmo saboroso!' Em kissed her fingertips and smiled.
  Jo found herself becoming rather peckish suddenly. At that point, she  clutched the edge of the wagon as the mules moved forward at last. 'And these?' She indicated the casks stacked behind her.

 

  Emmelina smiled and raised her lovely dark brows.
 

  Jo laughed, and took Em's hand.'Ah! Fair trade for the beasts, indeed!' Josephina's spirits revived at the thought of a much less thirsty night ahead...

  'It is good to see you, mi amiga,' Jo studied the enigmatic gypsy girl, who had changed somewhat herself; longer of sinuous leg now, and with perhaps just a touch of seriousness in her eyes, which she hadn't seen in their younger days.

   'You will dance tonight?'

 

 

  'Of course! We all shall dance! -- Play gypsy play, far and away into the night...that is why you are here, sim? To forget the cares of the long road behind us. Tonight, is for seeing old friends, and meeting new! Sharing music, laughter, perhaps love?'
  '...And whatever is in these casks!' Jo reminded her.

The wagon hit a bump and the girls turned to steady the precious cargo of casks. They smiled at one another, well-pleased to be young and free for the evening's celebração and Josephina began to sing:

  'Oh, bring me some sack!

   In a cup made of gold --

   And drink to the health

   Of Henry of old...!'

 

'You and your bawdy Bard!' Emmelina chided her, shaking a finger her way, but Jo linked an arm with hers and then they both began to roar:
 

  'Oh, give me some sack!  

   In a cup made of straw!

   When I shall not want

   For true love no more...!'

 

Off and away trundled the cart of casks with the two

amigas celebrating their reunion in song...

                                

    

Off across the hills to the west, beyond the river, the sun was heading home as well,  eager as they for the close of day and a place to rest her flaming head.
   She gave over her throne to her pale mate; soon to rise and to rouse...for the night was given to gladness and ease, to mirth, to sack and celebration...a lightening of burdens and forgetting of aches and the weariness of work. To send light feet again a-glide to a  fiddler's tune; to dance, to sing, to imbibe and bring love home at last to rest, replete, beneath the forgiving moon...

 

                      . . . .


 

Diego and Rafel were there long before them, having come early with their tribe to meet their southern brethern.

They were grouped about the central campfire, while nearby a haunch of venison roasted, neighbored by mesmerized fish, ("tickled"), several unwary rabbits, and, naturalmente, a toothsome goat lovingly basted in a sweet barbque sauce. Esplendido!

   The men, as usual, ate separately from the women, but all tended the roasting meats.

 'A fine deer, he will take a while longer,' Rafe told him, sitting. 'The goat is nearly perfieto!'

 

   'We haven't brought much in the way of libations...' Diego noted, feeling rather nervous about playing tonight.
 

  'Is that your worry, little malandro?' Rafe shook his head, 'A head full of wine, makes a man full of sleep. Your Madonna of the Sea, Stella Maris will not appreciate this, I think...'
  Rafe leaned to seize his guitar, and strummed a chord:
'Tenho saudades de mim
Do meu amor, mais amado!'


The men gathered close, and the young smiled, the old filled their
pipes and nodded...
  'What does it mean, irmao?' asked Diego.


'"I have nostalgias for what I was,
For the love that I loved most..."' sang Rafel.


Diego pondered these words, thinking that he sometimes felt a nostalgia for something he no longer knew...


As Rafe's fingers flew over the frets, he sighed, 'That will be your song tonight, my unfortunate friend...you will find yourself alone, and snoring in your empty cup, a fedorento,  festering and flatulent flounder...while a dashing, sober  guitarist makes passionate love to your mermaid!'


Diego was back-slapp'd by several strong arms which nearly sent him flying into the fire. Merriment ensued.
  

'...Flatterer...' 

Diego felt the contrariness of youth. He turned a sideways smirk toward Rafe and sang out: '"O! for a draught of vintage...O, for a beaker full of the warm South!"'

                            

The older men laughed and a well-seasoned traveler brought Diego a winesack which he accepted merrily, and drank with much graciousness and gusto.

  'You will play for us later, little sponge, when Zandor returns, sim?' The man asked. Diego nodded.  
   'Good.' He snatched back the winebag. 'Enough until you play for your supper!'

 

 

Rafe lept upon a wagon seat and shaded his eyes, 'That isn't Zandor, it is your wagonload of 'warm South'!' Rafe smiled at Diego, who joined him to better view the newcomers. 'Ah, never fear lobito, we have a wagonload of cheer for tonight! Ah, there is Jose!' He waved to the boy beside the driver.

  'But, see there? That plume of dust behind! Zandor follows!
  'Zandor approaches!' He called to the crowds. A wave of cheering arose.
  '--And the barrel-wagon!' An even more enthusiastic eruption of huzzahs echoed throughout the camp.

 

   Rafe looked at Diego, with a wry eyebrow. 'The evening begins. We shall see who will be left standing, little esponja!'


 

 

                          . . . .

Night proper had settled most improperly upon the valley. Not a shy, discreet gibbous or crescent; but a gregarious lush and brazen full blue moon, not content to parade his fine shine only once this month, but twice, although here on the 2nd day of February, it was but his first show. The encore was yet to come.

Sated after a sumptuous feast fit for a gypsy king, (which it was), Emmelina took Jo to her wagon, to prepare for the evening's entertainment.


  Throughout the camp and beyond, of course, the abiding sound of guitar and harp, flute, strings and song floated along the air like night-birds' calling.


Music was the true blood of the gypsy band, and fed the soul from the rich life of the road.

 'You fetched your bag from Esperanza, sim?' Emmelina called to her as they ascended the steps to her brightly painted cobalt-blue wagon, bedecked with the Eyes of Ra and Horus, the Wings of Isis, and other signs and symbols that Josphina knew not of, as yet.

 

   'For you will be staying the night, Josephina-Javelina! I will not let you go!'

Jo joined her amiga in her cosy nest, resplendent with silks and statues, vibrant pictures of Eastern goddesses.

                           

  'Sim! Of course!'

 

One beauteous painting of the Magdalena had taken center stage,
and Josephina gravitated toward her.
  Em joined her there and lighted the candle placed before her. 'She is so sublime, don't you think?'

  Jo had to agree. 'Indeed...she seems so familiar somehow...and the dove above her...' Josephina was much affected by the portrait. 'I feel I have seen this somewhere before!'

 

  Em looked at her friend, studying her seriously. She took her hands.

                                

 

Jo sat beside Em upon the bed covered in brightly woven spreads of intricate designs, perfumed with incense and gypsy princess... Emmelina took her hands in hers and turned them, studying palms.


  'But what is this...?' Em mused, as she caught Jo's finger and studied the jagged scar there. She grasped her finger tightly then, and closed her eyes.


  Jo did not move.


At last, Emmelina opened her eyes and looked through and beyond her friend.



   'You will meet your destiny tonight.  It has walked through time's outlands and is long in coming! Be sure you recognise it and do not falter! Listen to the message in the strings! It carries to you the heart. The heart lies within the music. This will be your one chance and will not last.'


Emmelina dropped her hand then, and stood.
'It is getting on...we must dress!' She began to hum as she
searched through chests and hidden drawers...

 

Whatever had that been about? Jo wondered, as she shook out the emerald dress from her bag. As the girls dressed and plaited one another's hair, she attempted to address the confusing conundrum presented  by the ominous reading.

  'You spoke of destiny tonight, mi amiga...' she began tentatively.

 
 

Em smiled as she affixed long glittering earrings to her shell-like ears. Golden earrings, not simply a legend.


                         

 

 

  'It is nothing, Josephina...only that you were once myself, as I am now you! You came from the future, into the past, and one day you will return!'

 'Well, that explains all!' Jo huffed, as she cross- tied her slippers.

 

The gypsy girl laughed and caught her hands once more.
 

'We are sisters, Josephina-Emmelina! See? This cut on your finger! It was from this!'
  She opened a drawer under the table and unfolding a velvet cloth, displayed to Jo's wondering eyes a long silver knife which snaked in curves along the blade. 'A kris knife!'

 

Folding it back within it's sheath, Em then extracted a box of assorted oils and set it upon the table top.
  '...I have had that odd cut, ever since I could recall,' Jo mused, frowning at it.

 

  'After we bestowed the cut to our fingers, we then linked together, like this, see?' Em wrapped her finger along Jo's. 'Blood sisters.' Jo noted Emmelina's identical jagged scar, same size and shape.

 

Em released her and rooted among the oils, 'And then, yes, this one I think!' She opened a delicate bottle of intoxicating scent...
   'I applied this to our wounds...' She dabbed the slick oil upon their hands.
   'To heal, and seal our sisterhood.'

 

Jo smiled down at her hands. A wonderful story to explain the odd scar, she thought. 'We were sisters even before that, I think, here,' she placed Emmelina's hand upon her heart, and placed her own upon her sister's.

 

  Emmelina looked serious once more. 'Sim...the coracao.' She grasped Jo's hand. 'Let it sing tonight, your heart, Josephina!' She smiled most mercurially then.

 

'And I? I shall dance!' She spun about the small room, nearly knocking over several piles of clothing.

  Emmelina stopped suddenly, regarding Josephina.

'But just look at YOU! Oh, irma! Such a vision in emerald! Turn about!' She ordered, twirling a finger.

 

  Jo obeyed, shyly. 'It was the dress Esperanza found me wearing. She mended it well, I think...'

 

  Emmelina nodded. 'It is meant to be. Emeralda por enamorado!' She winked at Jo, then blew out the candles.'Andele, irma, rapidamente! My feet itch for music!'
 

                          . . . .


                       

 

Emmelina fairly flew from the wagon, a flame of red racing through the camp, her silken black scarf blooded with scarlet poppies trailing in her wake, the long fringe like wings...


 

  Smiling, Jo followed behind, taking her sweet time.

 

She pondered on Em's pronouncements and wondered. At last she shook her head; tonight was not for the order and boxing of thought, but for the freedom of the soul and heart.

 

  'There is always time to think, manana.' She  gazed up at the bright high moon above and was glad of celebration this night; surely no one would find sleep under the magnetic force of that magician's lamp, any road...

                         

                            
Josephina slipped between the trees, a flash of moonlight striking her new-old gown of splendorous jade; wisps of her crimson hair braided to a crown, caught the firelight and long curls fell upon white shoulders, a creature out of fey land and legend, and some took note of this.



Back to the circle about the musicians where more folk now had gathered and were making merry in marvelous moondancing; as demanded by the pale sky-gleam which lifted feet from heavy earth and sent them sky-crooked and orbiting...

Ah, she was just in time she saw, as Zandor the gypsy chief, and Carlos were playing a duet which was more duel; both sweating and plying bow-arm as if rowing for their lives toward a safe isle at last...


 

She found Elena and Esperanza seated on sheepskins against a wide oak, while Fernando lingered nearby, hopeful. She joined them there, and Fernandito rushed off to the cask-wagon and returned with cider for himself and Jo.

 

  He bowed, a proper Spanish don. 'Senorita?'
 

  Smiling, Josephina nodded, and accepted the cup. 'Gracias...sit, Fernando...and listen!'


 

  Joyously the lad fairly lept beside her, spilling half his cider.

The musical duel was winding down it seemed, as the gypsies and guests cheered first one combatant-contestant and then the other...finally, it seemed Carlos was growing tired, he was the elder, after all, and allowed his lengthy serenade to slow into a beauteous and graceful swan-song, the plaintive notes lingering in the air like melting ice crystals...


 

Zandor took heart at this, and found new spirit, he exulted in taking the lead and, riding the music like one of his gallant stallions leading the chase, the sound crested in wave after wave of silver notes, higher, faster!--to the finish line! Acrobatic was his triumphal terminus as he brought the runaway music to a halt with his forceful drawing of the bow. Zandor was once again, master of his music!


 

  The crowd went beyond wild, into bursts of ecstatic applause and accolades; 'Zandor El Rey!' was shouted again and again, but 'Carlos El Maestro!' had his followers as well, and both were lifted high upon appreciative broad shoulders and carried round the circle, ending of course, at the cask-wagon, for all the airy transcendence of music made, it was brought forth with sweat and muscle and pain...


 

There at the casks, Rafe and Diego had made themselves handy and filled full goblets for the King and Maestro.
  They then were sure to re-fill their own, and Rafel put an arm about his young irmao, escorting him to their wagon, where others of  the tribe were gather'd in their own small enclave about the campfire; here there much cantata and rindo, talk and laughter, feasting and dancing as in many similar circles...

 

  'Not to worry,' Rafe was telling Diego, patting his shoulder as they took a seat near the fire making room among the men who sat smoking pipes and telling of tales tall.
  'You'll do just fine!'

  'Sim! I have heard you at practice, Diego!' A man spoke up, knocking his pipe ash against a rock, and refilling. 'You are not half-bad!'
 

  Diego's blush was discernible even in the night light. 'Hopefully I'll be half good at least...'
  The men laughed and reassured him with insults and jests as is the way among men.

 

 'Não se preocupe, little brother,' Rafe lighted his own pipe. 'You have great honor here!' His wide white grin split the dark. 'Better fetch your violin! You go on directly after Zandor and Carlos, you know!'

 

Diego about shat.

 

There was small pause as all the gypsy men stared heavily at the fire, non-smiling, serious, brooding upon this. Some were slowly shaking their heads...
    Then a slow soft sound unto rumbling escaped from the men, chuckling, and Rafe began to laugh softly. The circle gave up the game and  broke out in ribald laughter.

Diego was relieved, to say the least and swallowed his heart back into his chest.
 'I, I'll just fetch my instrument and noodle about a while, I think,' he said with a small shaky smile and nodded to the men as he slipped into the wagon, leaving the party well-amused with his ingenuous youth.
 

  For what fun is it to be old if one cannot bedevil the young, eh?, said they.

  'It will leaven his loaf,' said the eldest, creakiest, hairiest there; a great Falstaff of a man...a man with years of leavening.

 

                     . . . .


 

Diego, meanwhile, wandered through camp, idly fingering his violin and drawing bow with careful precision and pressure now slight, now firm...she seemed in tune, this lovely Lady bestowed upon him by Carlos, El Maestro. Not an old instrument, but finely made indeed. He felt blessed of the gods to have her...
 

'Diosa, help me,' he whispered to his Lady...he hoped Carlos had spoken incantations and words of power above the spruce whilst fashioning this Lady of such sweet sound and curves.
  He felt he needed all the help he could get.

 

  At last, though, after practicing his selections for the evening, which he thought could not have been more well-suited to a gypsy conclave, he recovered some confidence, and knew he felt just light enough in heart (thanks in part to the contents of the thrice-welcomed casks of port, cider and wine); yet his fingers still flew true, where and whence mind and muscle commanded ...



He was further heartened by the recent appearance of his mystery shepherdess-mermaid, a  vision in emerald green; gliding alone through the trees about camp, her hair fashioned in cunning wee braids about her head, ringlets escaping in waves of scarlet glory...

Neither county girl nor mermaid of the pools, she. Nay, she was a creature out of Byron's rare atmosphere where such lovelies did walk in beauty, like the night...
                            

                       

   

Diego looked up, seeking aid from that trusty companion of lovers throughout the ages, Madame de Lune. 'Oh, pity this poor mortal tonight!' he begged, 'Use me! Let me be thy instrument of might and moon-made magic! Your humble servant doth implore thee...' Diego went to one knee and bowed his head.

     '"Doubt thou the stars are fire;

       Doubt that the sun doth move;

       Doubt truth to be a liar;

       But never doubt I love..."'


 

Sighing greatly, Diego stood. Then, tucking instrument neath his arm, and well-fortified with wine and Shakespeare, he strode forth to do battle...
 

  The dragon he fought was his own young self, but to seek this prize, his maiden fair, found he within where stout heart doth dwelt...
 

                     . . . .
 

As Diego returned to the main circle it was nearing High Moon by now and was momentarily daunted to see such a throng! The music and dancing was wild and mirth spilled over from performers into the crowd and echoed against the eastern hillsides...

   

He espied a beauteous dancer ringed by musicians; she spun and twirled in a riot of red silk; flowing about her shone her be-poppy'd shawl with long-fingered fringe, giving her the air of a fleet filly with wings; dervish-dancing a magical spell to enthrall all daring to abide; it could deliver folk into another realm perhaps, her whirlwind dance taking them into the land of the Fey, the Djinn; a desert wind that would lead all into old eastern lands where such spirits rode upon wayward dreams and left one unsure, of who or where one had been...

                   

 

Diego breathed deeply. He had some of that as well. So he told himself.

 

As the gypsy girl circled to the floor, like a falling rose, the crowd cheered and tossed flowers of their own to her; Zandor the chief, strode beside her and, taking her hands, they both bowed; he obviously with some pride.
  Ah, this must be his lovely daughter, Emmelina, of whom Diego had heard much, all to the good.

 

Diego found himself rather surprised however, when the gypsy princess flounced over to his Shepherdess in green, who handed her a cup of wine, and they toasted once another, laughing.

  Interesting, that...



 

Well, no time like the prescient...


 

Daryl strode confidently into the midst of the circle, greeting some of the musicians he knew and nodding to the others. They courteously made room for him in the inner circle, then, taking a handful of cornmeal and salt from his pocket, he scattered this about him in a magic ring of power and protection. The gypsies raised brows at this, looking at one another, but accepted it as a matter of course. Some smiled.

 

  He was a weird one, even beyond gadjo ways, it was said. But, as Rafel joined the lad upon guitar, taking a seat behind him, they knew that, as Rafel's blood brother, he was accepted here, and they respected the tie betwixt them.

Diego bowed deeply to Zandor and Carlos, who nodded to him from their front seats of honor. Then whilst he bowed to the crowd round about, he made certain to catch the eye of the Shepherdess. She stood with Emmelina nearby, sipping goblets of wine and watching him curiously.

 

Plink! Plink! --He tested his tuning, then breathing in deeply, all was quiet as Rafe made soft sounds upon guitar in intro, then the young lad put bow to strings.



  ('Sarasate!' -- 'Sarasate!') immediately flew the muted whispers all about, as the gypsies stared, awed that a gadjo would dare to tackle such a work of Spanish fire and passion.

                            
                           

Josephina leaned close to Em's ear, 'What? 'Sarasvati?!' --  Is this a hymn to the goddess, then?'
  Emmelina shushed her, and bent her musician's ear to the surprisingly fine notes emanating from this strange young gadjo's violin...

 

Josephina's ear was similarly captivated, and as she watched, she beheld a transformation take place:
 

  No longer seemed Diego a gangly colt too bony for his long frame, but he drew himself up into his power and played...like a young god.

   An air of intense yearning; the sound of a lover long separated from his beloved, filled the air. All was quiet about the boy, as he and Rafe alone held them spellbound, captivated by the magic and music.


 

Surely only a gypsy could find such feeling within! Only the long road, the doloroso separations of family, friends and lovers, could evoke such feelings of displacement and longing for the heart of home...

                      

 

   Oh, such longing...Diego drew forth from the strings a sound of heart calling to heart, as his features contorted with the effort of just the right amount of pressure, as though struggling with feelings simmering deep within that he must hold in check, allowing only the precise, the perfected to show.
 

 

Zandor looked with wonder at Carlos, knowing that he had crafted this violin and had given some tutoring to the found gadjo boy. He might have thought it a lost cause, but Carlos, and Diego, had certainly proven him wrong this night.

 

When Diego's fingers found the last note of the plaintive, questing stanza, all were tempted to show astonished appreciation, but Rafe held up a hand, smiling, and then:
 

 -- Like lightning!

 -- Diego ripped into the more spirited section, as full of passion as the first, but instead of the deep desperate yearning heard before, this was the sound of heat and passion: music determined to win, and destined for victory!


 

  Upon a fiery steed lept the sound and sped off into the fray, to rescue the princess and to clasp her hard to him; to ride off into the night together, leaving enemies vanquished and beaten! Vitoria!
 

The surprised gypsies laughed, slapping thighs and cheering Diego's  wild wizard'ry within his magic circle. One expected fire to erupt from his mad bowing, he seemed as one possessed; but by a loving Muse, a Muse of Victory; of Fortuna, who favored the bold...

Amazed, as one, the crowd marveled at the boy; where did the plucking and the fingering begin or end? He seemed to have as many hands as Vishnu, all busily creating the World itself, out of a flaming chimera of sound...
 

--At last...Diego drew bow across notes signaling the finale, and --  abruptly -- stopped!
 

...Silence.

He leaned back, gasping for breath, inhaled deeply, facing the crowd.  Then, catching the eye of the astonished Shepherdess, -- Diego smiled and bowed.

 

 

   Rafe stood, one hand upon Diego's shoulder,
 (Diego felt he was about to faint, truth be told...),
whilst the crowd, as one, rose to their feet with  a cacophonal burst of cheering surely heard  echoing to the village and beyond...

'Bra-VO! Viva! Viva! Ole! Majestoso! Bravos!' --
rang out across the valle; Diego was wrung-out and wet with perspiration through and through, but he brushed the dripping curls from his eyes and graciously shook hands and shared embrazos and besos with well-wishers, whilst his roving eye sought the crowd for a certain lady in green...

He could hardly see anything but the press of male flesh about him, his eyes so full of sweat, all blurred to a wash; when a path opened toward him and it looked as though the gypsy princess did approach, leading someone by the hand behind her.

 

  'Mover ou abrir caminho!' Emmelina commanded, as she led Josephina to the dripping Diego.

Blinking, he tried to focus on the scene before him, and then someone handed him a silk scarf.   'Obrigato...thank you, gracias...' he mumbled as he wiped his sodden face. Looking up at last, he beheld his Shepherdess, his Pastora, his Mermaid...his beloved.


                       

Josephina smiled shyly, and handed him a cup of cider.

He mutely accepted, stunned to find his magic had actually worked so well. ('And now what?' he wondered.) 

 

She stood straight and lifted her own cup to his, 'Salude, artiste! Sue musica es magica...'

Diego drank thirstily. 'Obrigado. Eh...voca fala...Portuguese?'
 He really did not know the language of his brothers all that well...

 

Josephina bit her lower lip, frowning. Oh, dear...now he thinks I am not a gadji...what to do...? Well, he would find out later or sooner...
 

  'I, I am Ingles, actually...' She lowered her long lashes.
 

   

Oh, Diosa be thank'd! Diego thought wildly. But in a trice he realized his advantage...
Rafe had taught him a few handy phrases for special occasions...

  'Todo momento com você é mágico...'

  (Every moment with you is magical)



The gathering crowd about the two, smiled and chuckled appreciatively... 

'--Oh-OOHs!!', sighs and laughter all around, as all enjoyed this encore to the show.

 

  Josephina blushed, not knowing exactly quite what was being said...

 

Diego took her hand and bracing his feet so to keep himself steady, gazed deeply into her eyes of deep blue-green, and in a low throaty voice told her:

 

  'Tu és o amor da minha vida...'

  (You are the love of my life)


 

'Ah-YEEeees!!' Erupted from the crowd.
Toasts were raised on high, much wine and cider overflowed from cups...

 'Bravo, cachorrinho! (puppy) 'Viva amore!'

 

  The cheers and back-slapping of the men, and the knowing laughter of the women continued, as musicians took up guitar, pipe and strings to play once more, and the roar of the throng ebbed as the crowd wandered back to the wine barrels and food tables, leaving the two young folk more or less alone.

Diego looked down then, possibly slightly embarrassed in his unlooked-for victory.
 'I, ah,' he coughed, 'I'm truly thirsty!'

 

Josephina blinked as if awakening from a trance. 'Oh!

Of course! More cider, sim?' She smiled, and as Diego handed his other lady, his violin to Rafe, he proffered an arm to Jo.

 

  'What is your name, querida?' He inquired, stepping into his shaky role as man-of-the-world.

 

Jo filled their two goblets with wine, and held one to him.

 'My name is Josephina,' she told him, as he accepted the cup from her.

 

As the two looked at one another, it seemed all sound about them faded; music and laughter diminished to nought; night cries of coyote, bird and insect, silenced.
   All was still throughout the velvet night...

 

'And I am Diego,' he answered her, as they gazed deeply, curiously at one another.

 

  'It is strange, but I feel I know you somehow...' he gazed at her, toe to tip. '...That dress...'
 

  'Yes?'
 

  'It is...beautiful. It makes your eyes gleam like emeralds...'
 

  'You are not a gypsy!' She admonished him then, smiling.
 

  'Alas, such is my misfortune...'
 

  'Neither am I,' Jo answered. 'I, I am not sure just what I am...anymore.
 

  'Você é meu,' Diego told her huskily. 'You are mine.'
He clasped her to him slowly but firmly, and he knew he had lived for this moment...


 

It was the perfect time for a first kiss...



                        

 

                           

Joshua Bell and Jeremy Denk perform

 Ziguenerweisen by Sarasate

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wiynpxA2sg

                                . . . .   

Chapter 2 - Falling With Eyes Open

Chapter 2 - Falling With Eyes Open



..::Leaning my forehead through unfathomed waves
I sank, a single drop, within a sleep of sulphur
where, like a blind man, I retraced the jasmine
of our exhausted human spring::..

The Heights of Machu Piccu
Pablo Neruda

                      ......
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
 That ever love did make thee run into,
 Thou hast not loved.
(As You Like It, 2.4)

 Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
(As You Like It, 3.5)

                      . . . .

The following day, Josephina awoke and stretched in the
morning sun...
  Morning sun?! Diosa, she was supposed to be out with
her sheep before dawn! Hurriedly she dressed and ran
outside, grabbing her waterskin en route.

'Esperanza!' she called, racing to the back garden. She
found her friend and mentor seated on her low vegetable
cart with wooden wheels which trundled along the garden
rows, busily weeding.
  'Why did you let me sleep so late? How did it happen?
Where are the sheep? Oooh...' Josephina, hands on hips,
a worried frown on her face, glanced about...looking
like the famous Lady Who Had Lost Her Sheep.

Esperanza slowly raised her head and glanced up at her
sideways, tilting back the brim of her wide straw hat.
'Buenos dias!' she smiled.
   'Esperanza the Exasperating!' Jo muttered to
herself.
   'I am old, but not deaf,' the weeding woman told
her, returning to her work. 'Fernando is tending the
flock, as I told you earlier.' She glanced up at Jo,
who was still frowning down at her. Why was the girl so
bothered not to be working? 'Why don't you go to the
pools and have a soak?' ('You should go soak your
cabeza...' Esperanza muttered to herself.)
   Josephina was not deaf either. 'I heard that.'
  'Be sure you take Lobo with you!' Esperanza called.

Sighing deeply, she thought it was actually a good
idea. It had been long since she had been to the
mineral baths. She rubbed the back of her neck, stiff
from having slept in.

Back in the cocina, she took tortillas, dried fruit and
nuts, and filled up her skin. Grabbing a soft woolen
blanket woven in rainbow colors, she packed this and a
matching cotton towel as well.




                         

 

 

  Then, fetching her own big straw hat and whistling
for Lobo, they began to climb the rocky heights
surrounding Villa Encantata.

'Hot already, Lobito!' Jo grumbled as they trudged
upward. She shadow-chased between the trees and
towering boulders.
  It was nice to have slept in though. Josephina had a
problem sleeping most nights...troubled dreams kept
waking her.

Si, it had been too long since the baths. She would
soak away her cares... And soon, perhaps Emmelina and
the gypsy band would be arriving from the south. She
perked up at that and, sipping water from her sack,
picked up her pace. Maybe they would even arrive today.

It seemed an age since she had last seen the dark
Saraswati-worshipping princess and her band of gypsies.
Had she been keeping up her mandolin practice Jo
wondered? She sighed, knowing that she, herself, had
not...

                         

Far up the mountain path they traveled until they came
to some low pinon pines and turned from the deer track
into the big hulking boulders which resembled a buffalo
hump. Here the going was slower and more difficult.
Perhaps she should have brought her shepherd's crook,
she mused, belatedly.

At least here there was more shade under the pinions.
She kept an eye upon the sun, to gauge the time. She
wanted to have a long soak, but she needed to head back
long before dark. She did not want to chance missing
Emmelina and the others.

It had indeed been some time since she was here last.
She recalled when Jose had shown this place to her,
soon after her arrival. He was Carlos the woodworker's
apprentice, Esperanza's neighbor. Jose helped Carlos
fashion the most beautiful violins, mandolins, guitars.
'Carlos is truly El Maestro,' Jose often told her with
justifiable pride.

During her last trip here with Jose, she had been too
shy to strip down to the skin as had he. She had kept
her camisole, but even clothed thus, she had been, as
always, amazed and renewed by the languid, warm,
sulphurous water, slippery on her skin.  



Sometimes, but not often, Esperanza and Carlos would
also venture along with them, but the journey was
uphill and difficult on the joints, and they would
complain about creaky knees and stiff backs all the
way.



  They did not do so, however, on the return trip. And
upon arrival, Jose worked some magic on their old
bones, which would resound like rifle shots against the
hills...

Josephina found herself smiling at the memory. Suddenly
she missed Lobo. Oh, what was that diablo dog into now?
Jo hoped he hadn't gone hunting...whistling, she
climbed up on a large boulder and pulled her hat brim
downward, scanning the area. She saw no buzzards
circling near, so no carcasses nearby to entice a dog
nose.

Gazing at the ground, she saw no tracks, either. En
route she had noticed some rabbit and deer prints, but
those had veered off toward the nearby creek.
  A short, sharp bark caught her attention. 'Lobo!'
Oh, that dog! He was going to make her late for her
soak.



  Fine then, she would fill her waterskin at the little
creek, and fetch the wayward dog-fart.
  Back down the bloody hill then...

Tongue lolling, tail a-wag, Lobo trotted up as Jo broke
through the young river willows and went to the creek
for water. She stepped carefully, however, noting the
tracks in the sand and soft dirt. Several deer had been
here, and not too long ago, she noted.


                            

She tied Lobo's blue bandana round his neck, and held
him beside her. 'Just because you have a day off from
your flock, you go loco, Lobo!' The big dog looked at
her, and grinned happily, wagging harder. 'Oy...' Jo
sighed, as she crouched down upon a large rock and let
the stream trickle into her pouch.

The sound of a small stick cracking caught Jo's
attention as she stood and Lobo barked once, staring
into the trees across the creek. He didn't seem overly
concerned, however, tail wagging merrily.

'Deer,' she decided, tying up the waterskin and,
shouldering it, she turned back from whence she'd come.
'Andele', Lobo! You have made us late already!'
She released him and he sped off ahead. 'You stay with
me this time!'
  Ayee...dogs.

Up, and up. Finally, Josephina could detect the
unmistakable yellow scent of sulphur on the wind.
 'At last!'



She was getting tired now and her stomach grumbled,
having only snacked on a handful of nuts and dried
fruit along the way. Her tortillas were warm and she
need only lay them upon a wet towel over a hot rock,
covered. Turn them over; then, when ready, they were
spread with warm fruit paste, and nuts, and you had
sweet tamales, almost...

Rounding the familiar grouping of pale wide boulders,
Jo beheld the long-coveted goal of her quest...steam
arose from inviting thermal pools surrounded by tall
rocks which stood like sentinels about the healing
waters.

                             

Although eager for her dip, Josephina still knew her
priority: lunch!
  Wetting her small cotton towel from the waterskin,
she lay it upon a flat hot rock and then placed the
tortillas upon it, folding the wet towel between each
as she piled them, with a fold to cover them, and
topped the tortilla-tower with another smaller flat
rock. She set her water carefully in the shade, and
then called Lobo to her.

Removing her hat, she unfolded two tortillas that had
nestled beneath it en route, and fed them to Lobo, who
wolfed them down greedily. Jo then poured a little
water into a shallow of a shaded rock for him to drink.
  'You will stay, Lobo! Stay! Watchdog, Lobo! Keep
watch now, si?'
  The big dog sighed and flopped down in the shade near
the pools beneath the manzanita.  He would stay. He
knew his duty, when On Guard; to watch the flock, and
Josephina.

                             

The trick with the hat-tortillas was taught to her by
Emmelina, her gypsy friend. Although Em had suggested
she carry the food to be given the animal under one's
armpits, Jo found that the hat trick would carry the
scent of her hair and work just as well. The dog nose
knows. The animal would then be doubly-bonded to that
person and know their scent anywhere.
  Jo simply couldn't get used to tortillas in her
armpits.

Lunch cooking, dog taken care of, she took a last
searching look about her, scanned the sky (much later
than she'd thought, caramba!) and with Lobo peacefully
on guard, she took the plunge...
  Stripping to the skin, she eased herself into the
pool, inch by inch, the agua caliente a welcome
soothing balm to her tired muscles.

Gliding slowly to the shady side of the pool beneath
the tall rocks, she ducked her head beneath the hot
vaporous water and came back up, relishing the cool
breeze on her skin.
  Diosa, but she needed this! She would come here every
day if it wasn't such a long uphill stretch. She sank
lower and leaning her head against a large boulder,
began to drowse, her body buoyant in the mineral-rich
water.

                             

The sun climbed ever upward.
  Lobo stood suddenly, and stared at the rocks over
Josephina's head.
  She took note of this and was reminded that the day
was getting on. Lunch, then.

Heaving herself out of the pool, she grabbed her large
woven cotton blanket, dried off, and donned her
camisole and smalls.
  Reclaiming the tortilla-pile from the hot rocks, she
took them into the shade neath the boulders above and
began spreading the soft fruit and nutmeats onto the
sol-warmed corn wrap and rolled them up and into her
hungry boca.

'Ummm...' she said to Lobo, who had come to lie beside
her, 'if only I could bring sheep cheese to spread on
these...with the sweet fruit and nuts, it would truly
be a delight for the gods,' she told him. 'It would
have melted before I got here though.'

A soft rumbling noise was heard above her then, and
Lobo stood once again, nose pointed to the rocks above.
  'Was that you, Lobito? You ate before we left, you
know!'
  Lobo barked at the rocks on high.

Josephina wasn't so sure they were alone now. She
dressed hurriedly, and pulled down the brim of her hat,
scanning the area. Keeping her knife handy, she hissed
to Lobo, 'Come!'

As they began scaling the boulders above the pool, she
heard the pounding of retreating sandals, and Lobo took
off like a shot, barking.
  Jo raced upward, and crested the rise just in time to
see the fleeing figure of a retreating man, longish
black curls flying in the breeze, his hat dangling from
his stampede strap as he rabbited off.

A deer hunter, she guessed, noting the long bow and
quiver of arrows he carried.
  Apparently he'd found a different quarry at the
pools.

She put two fingers to her lips and blew a piercing
whistle that split the air like an arrow itself. Lobo
halted, and looked back at her, then tentatively took
another step after the escaping peeper, now
disappearing over the hills beyond.
  Lobo looked questioningly at Jo, then with one quick
glance to where the man was last seen, he turned about
and began trotting back to her, tail a-wag as if
nothing were out of the ordinary.
  -- Curious.

Josephina stood, hands on hips to receive him. 'A fine
watchdog!' She admonished him, sighing. 'You could have
easily caught him, you know!' Lobo grinned at her and
sat, tail thumping. 'He could have accosted me!' Lobo
slurped his tongue back in his mouth, head tilted as
though he thought that unlikely. 'He could have eaten
the rest of my lunch!' Lobo yawned, unimpressed.
 
'Ayee...what a day. These hidden pools are becoming a
tourist spot! Come! We are late enough as it is!'  
Clambering back down the rocks, Jo proffered a bite to
Lobo, then stuffed the remaining tortilla in her mouth
and poured a bit more water for him. She drank a
swallow herself then and packed up for home.
 
Josephina mused as she walked that Villa Encantata's
environs were a protected site, as Esperanza had
assured her; and that no one without 'access', (as her
mentor termed the wards), could penetrate the sacred
circle.  'Access' would be keyed to one's 'trace
signature', her mentor had taught.
  Jo hadn't quite grasped all that was implied by this,
but she trusted Esperanza in most things, and had not
found reason to doubt the truth of this...until now.

Who had the interloper been? Whoever it was, he had
been hungry, maybe...if that was stomach-rumbling she
had heard.

Well, she would take the news back to Esperanza. The
day was getting on, and maybe there would be news of
Emmelina's traveling band camped in the valley by now.
  Refreshed by lunch and her dip in the pool, Jo
decided to make tracks herself.
  'Andele, Lobo! Like the wind!  Va va va!' And off
they sped down the deer trace, disappearing nearly as
quickly as their erstwhile Watcher.
                       . . . .

'No, no Diego!' Raphel lowered his sword, and turned
Diego sideways once more. 'Again, you present yourself
a target! There!'
  Rafe then returned to face the young stray adopted by
the tribe. He had made a gift of an espada, a sword, to
Diego, which he had found in the mountains. It had
appeared to be French, and as gypsies were wary of
gadjo belongings, he'd passed it on to Diego.
  Raphel had his own beautifully unique espada, made
for him back in Brazil where certain relatives of his
were metalworkers of some renown.


                          

 
He was now breaking in Diego, as Diego broke in his
found sword.
  'Again! Atencao, jovem irmao! Watch my eyes!
Antecipar your opponent's next move, sim? And remember,
keep your body turned to the side and protect this,
always!' He thumped his left side. 'Your coracao!' He
smiled. 'Or, how else will you woo your mermaid, eh?'

Diego let his sword fall and glared at Raphel. 'I am
wooing no one!' He looked away, raking a hand through
his unruly curls. 'I never should have told you...'

Raphel laughed. 'En guarde!' He resumed his stance and
challenged the lad once more.
  Turning with his right side toward his gypsy irmao,
Diego lifted the sword and prepared to meet Raphel's
attack.

'Knees bent slightly, good...' Raphel lunged, Diego
blocked his opponent's sword with his own whilst
stepping lightly backward, still maintaining his
balance. 'Bem! Not bad!' Raphel paused and studied the
sky a moment.
 'Enough for now, I think.' He turned behind him and
sniffed the air. 'Change is on the wind, sim? Perhaps
our brothers will be here by tonight. Come!'

Rafe put an arm about the lad's shoulders, rather bony
still; Diego had shot up like a young colt and had yet
to fill out into manhood. They walked back into camp
where they found water and washed up.

'How is your violin practice? Mustn't neglect that,
either!' The older gypsy chided him, grinning. 'Also
good for the coracao!' He laughed and thumped Diego on
the back as he strode away, humming.
  'Tonight!' He called over his shoulder. 'Be ready!'

Diego frowned at Raphel's smug retreat, then shaded his
eyes to appraise the south. He sniffed the air, but all
he smelled was sage and the scent of rabbit stew. His
stomach grumbled. 'Basta!,' he told it, hand on his
abdomen. 'You betrayed me badly already.'

He certainly had not meant to spy upon the girl, who he
knew must have been the flame-haired shepherdess he'd
beheld the day before. He had encountered her dog by the
creek where he'd followed the deer, and he'd chanced
feeding it a bit of his lunch. Diego had decided he may
as well try to make friends as he seemed unable to
escape the persistent hound.

When Josephina had burst upon the scene he was already
across the water and well-hidden.  When she had left
with her dog, so had he.   
 Could he help it if he had been heading in the same
direction as she? And he had to keep an eye on that
dog, didn't he? Knowing his whereabouts would tell him
where the deer would not be found of course.
  It was only logical...

Thus lying comfortingly to himself, he decided that he
would dish up some stew so that he could hear the
violin over his traitorous stomach, and get a bit of
practice in before tonight. Rafe was usually right
about such things.
  He bit his lip, thinking that was not all his wily
imano had found to be verdade...

                           

                        . . . .

'Lestat' on violin w/gypsies
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgg_JM9BDCE

Book Six
of: Emlyn Page, Adventures in This, That and the Otherworld

Chapter 1 - The Return of Josephina

..::Arise, oh Cup-bearer, rise! and bring
To lips that are thirsting the bowl they praise,
For it seemed that love was an easy thing,
But my feet have fallen on difficult ways.

I have prayed the wind o'er my heart to fling
The fragrance of musk in her hair that sleeps --
In the night of her hair -- yet no fragrance stays
The tears of my heart's blood and my sad heart weeps.

Where shall I rest, when the still night through,
Beyond thy Gateway, of Heart of my heart,
The bells of the camels lament and cry:
"Bind up thy burden again and depart!"

The waves run high, night is clouded with fears,
And eddying whirlpools clash and roar;
...Oh Hafiz, seeking an end to strife,
Hold fast in thy mind, what the wise have writ:
"If at last thou attain the desire of thy life,
Cast the world aside, yea, abandon it!"

--Teachings of Hafiz

                        
                      . . . .

"Ov yilo isi?" -- "Is there heart here?"
--Gypsy greeting

                      * * * *

                     

The sun was just rising over the low Sonoran hills as Josephina (who had been Emlyn, once, upon some longlost dream) sat upon a still-cool boulder and watched, as her small fold of sheep found meager grazing in the valley below Villa Encantata.

The sun had changed position, she noted now; the bright face of Sol now rose just to the right of El Diablero, the purpled mountain peak at the other end of the valley from which a ribbon of river meandered slowly.

It would soon be spring, she realised, and sighed.
Where did the Time go? She knew not how long she had been here, but felt at home nonetheless; it had been a place of comfort and renewal. Esperanza, her mentor, had explained finding her here some time ago, she'd forgotten when...
  As far as what Josephina could recall of her life prior to this place, her mind was a tabula rasa.
 
'Lobo!' She cried, surprised to find the big dog at her side suddenly, tail a-wag. 'A fine wolf you are!
You are supposed to be with your sheep!'

Lobo walked a ways, stopped and looked at Josephina.
 'Alright then, I'm coming...help me up!'
Lobo just looked at her, indifferent. He turned tail and headed back down the valley.
 'Typical male...' Josephina grabbed her crook staff and hauled herself from the rock and gathered her rough woven woolen shawl about her as she strode after him down the hillside glowing golden in the fresh sunlight and into the dawn of a new day...

                             

                      . . . .

Meanwhile, Daryl, as Diego, had been tracking deer in the mountains when he had spied the sudden glow of  copper shining in the morning sun. As he crept closer, what he first had thought to be a glimpse of a stray chestnut pony he now saw was actually the long fiery shimmering hair of a girl seated upon the hilltop, watching her sheep below.

He ducked behind boulders, but her big dog had seen or smelled him and began bounding up his way.
 Diego disappeared, then. He was a past master in the art of disappearing acts, and could even outrun the hounds of Annwyn, he told himself, smiling, as he fled into the brush downwind.

He had rubbed his skin with strong scented herbs, with a dash of machine oil. Perhaps the dog wouldn't scent a human, but he'd know something foreign was stalking his territory.
  After running zig-zags around the rough and rugged rocks, the ragged rascal stopped at last and, breathing hard, poked his head up above the manzanita and saw nada following.

No dog, but no deer now, either, after that crashing chase.
  He studied the sun, now well on it's way into the heat of the day. Spring soon. All to the good; new life being born, with spring shoots forthcoming. The winter's bare larders could be refilled. The gypsy band traveled light, but certain culinary and medicinal herbs were always gathered, sometimes cultivated, and dried for keeping.

This, Diego had learned quickly, when he had been found by the gypsies, nude and unconscious, near the base of Mt. Popocatepetl...he couldn't recall how long ago now... Fact was, he couldn't recall anything.

Sometimes, like snatches of a dream, images and voices would come to him, speaking of almost-familiar names and places, perhaps...but, these vanished as soon as he blinked, and he could no more grasp onto them as the moon.

The girl he had just glimpsed, the shepherdess...had briefly stirred one of these flashes of memory--?
--Was it?
  But, it was gone now. The day was becoming warm.
  Diego hefted his long bow and arrows and decided to
seek his quarry in the valley below. It would soon be hot and he would be seeking the river as thirstily as the deer.

He had vowed not to return empty-handed. There was to be a conclave and fiesta soon, for the Feast of the Magdalena, February 2nd. The Lady With the Cup, who had always been dear to Diego.
  Somehow, the shepherdess reminded him of the Magdalena, known as the Woman with the Alabaster Jar...

Diego knew though, that it had not been a jar which she, the Magdalen, had carried, but a box, known as the 'Alabastrum'.
  How he knew this, whence came this knowing, he could not say. But, he had ceased to fret about such things.
Life was fine and suited him well with the gypsies who
tolerated him as long as he abided by their codes and
pulled his own weight by his hunting.

But he remained to them always a gringo gadjo, and outsider; although a slightly loco one, having been 'dropped from the stars upon his head too hard!', as they reminded him, laughing. Some of the old women had made the sign of the evil eye against him and stared hard and long his way, murmuring 'diablo' and 'luz peligro', 'chorro', 'bengalo' and worse...

But, over time, as he healed, they came to, if not accept him, to tolerate his presence as if he were a sort of amusing pet they pitied. Or so Diego felt, not knowing that the code of the gypsies had always been to help those in need, especially fellow Travelers.
  This was fine with him. Any situation where he was not naked and broken and being fried by the ruthless fireball in the sky was indeed fine with him.

It was the year 1882;
Meanwhile, in Daryl's Time, the year was 2046:
Emlyn aka Josephina was 17 years old.
Daryl aka Diego, was 20.
Instead of Time catching up with them, they had
caught up to it...


                              

                     . . . .

Sunrise, sunset...

Josephina had returned the sheep home to Elena's pasture. She had been acting as shepherdess to her friend's flock as long as she could recall.  Esperanza had put her to work straight away, instructing her to seek medicinal herbs en route, and to meditate and clear her mind of the rumble and noise of ego. "Monkey mind", she had called it; when one is centered upon the self.

"You are a child no longer,' she had told her, "only children can be so concerned with their own small world of self and selfishness. Here in Villa Encantata' we exist for the good of the whole; all are here to help one another, whoever they may be. Even you, Little Fireball!'
  Esperanza was a tough teacher, but she was not without love and concern for the little roja cabeza who had dropped out of nowhere upon the village.

And so, after closing up the gates and whistling for Lobo, Josephina waved to Elena who was gathering dinner from her garden. A brisk wind blew up from the west and she crossed her shawl about her then tied it behind her and headed for home.

As usual, the comforting smell of a good stew met her as she came within sight of Esperanza's adobe nestled against the hillside. It made Josephina's stomach grumble as she entered.

                            
  'Something smells good, as always,' she called, setting down her water skin and woven bag with herbs and a book on the wooden table.
  Esperanza appeared from around the corner which led to the cocina on the patio. Cooking outdoors kept things cool indoors.
  She set down the big iron pot before the fireplace.

 'What did you bring me?' she asked, smiling as she opened the bag. 'Ah, good; ruta, always need more...manzanilla...hmm, these you did not find in the hills! Ah, that Elena...'

'She never lets me go without a little something...'
Josephina removed her shawl, and pumped water for washing. 'I am so hungry I could eat a whole sheep, horns and all!'

Esperanza smacked her lightly. 'Don't say that! The last thing I need is a horny girl on my hands...' she groused as she dished up her own soup.
  'I am hungry only for soup...' Josephina assured her, grabbing her own wooden bowlfull.
  'Hm. We shall see.' Esperanza sighed, sitting at the table. 'So! Your friends the gypsies will be coming to town for the celebracion!'

Josephina was busy spooning soup. She looked across the table, however, her eyes pleading for more. More information. More soup. She attempted to swallow quickly.
  Esperanza laughed, 'The tortillas are warm in the oven outside...fetch them. Then we'll talk.'

                         
Josephina fairly flew out and returned with a warm towel full of fresh fragrant tortillas. 'When? What celebracion? Which gypsies? Is Emmelina coming?'
   'Whoa, caballo! Sit! Sit, and stuff your big boca full so I can answer...one thing at a time, ayee...' She frowned into her stew...'I am getting too old for kids...'
  Josephina ate, grinning at her teacher, silent.
  'Si, Emmelina's tribe is coming, and some others as well! This is a big celebracion! The Feast of the Magdelena! Muy musica, just as you like. And, of course, your favorite: food! Muy comida, Little Piggy.'

                                
'Wonderful!' Jo's bowl was empty at last. 'I work up an appetite, you know, out there...'
  '...Out there, sitting around, reading! Miss Bo Peep, you had better keep those ojos on the flock, Senorita Comida!' Esperanza glared at her, briefly, then continued, 'You won't catch a gypsy ruining their eyes with books.'

Jo gathered the empty bowls and washed them quickly, and dried her hands on a rainbow colored woven towel.
 'Emmelina reads. She reads Portuguese, Spanish...some French, some English...' Jo countered, spreading soft sheep cheese on her tortilla. She recalled how rusty her Espanol had been when she met Esperanza...she had known only English and a smattering of French.

'Em is the chief's daughter. That is different. She can do what she likes. Mostly.' Esperanza shrugged, 'Anyway, so they should be here in a day or two. And, yes, of course we are going. Little Fernando can graze Elena's sheep for a while. He loves that, you know.'
  'He does. I sometimes have to lead him a merry chase just to have some time to myself,' Jo sighed, 'he follows us everywhere...'
  'Fernandito is in love.' Esperanza made sheeps eyes at her ward, fluttering her lashes.
  'Fernandito is twelve years old.' Jo sat back, stretching.
  'And feisty! Get them while they're young, nina!'
Esperanza smiled.
  'You say they may be here manana?! Diosa, I have nothing to wear! Oh, you should have told me sooner...'

Josephina flew from the table to her room in back, where she uttered a gasp and exclaimed, 'Oooh! Esperanza!! Oooh! What is this?!'

Jo stood before her humble single wooden bed which was covered, of course, with sheepskins, but that wasn't all; A gown of emerald green was spread upon it, looking for all the world like a fairy queen's dress as if it had suddenly appeared by magic.
  She held it up to her, and gazed down in wonder.

'It is yours. You were wearing this, when you came here.' Esperanza said seriously, her arms crossed before her, leaning in the door frame. 'It is a milagro you were not robbed of it. I cleaned and mended it. It looks good as new.'

Jo frowned at the mysterious garment, and held it away from her, studying it. 'How odd...I must have seen something like it in a book, perhaps. It seems strangely familiar...' She held it to her and peeked in the small looking glass on her table. 'I wore this...?'
She wondered pensively.

Esperanza nodded, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'Don't fret about it Josephina-javelina...just enjoy it, si?'  She patted her softly and then exited the room.

Josephina stared and marveled at the oddity from her past, yet another mystery. Well, she would take her teacher's advice and simply be glad of it, as she could not shake her memories loose as yet.

But she did wonder who she had been, to have had such fine apparel...not that she was not satisfied here. She was happy with her lot, but she did sometimes dream of faraway places where folk gadded about in such finery and waltzed the night away beneath sparkling chandeliers...she twirled about her little room, humming. She stopped before her small mirror and grinned.
  'Oh, just wait until Emmelina sees this!'

                              

                       . . . .

WATCH AND LISTEN!
NAVAJO TRAIL
ASLEEP AT THE WHEEL and Quebe Sisters live

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFFYkF5v7Kk