(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 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!'
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.
'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.
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 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.
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.
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...
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.
Em chuckled. 'Have seat here.' They sat along the wooden edge of the wagon where the casks were lightly roped within.
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.
'...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...
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!'
'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.
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!'
'Good.' He snatched back the winebag. 'Enough until you play for your supper!'
'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.
'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.
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?'
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...
'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...
'You spoke of destiny tonight, mi amiga...' she began tentatively.
'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!'
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.
'...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.'
'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...
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.
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.
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.
'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...
'"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...
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.
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...
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...
(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...
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.
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...
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!'
'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...
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...
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...
Ziguenerweisen by Sarasate
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wiynpxA2sg. . . .
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