Gene Of Isis Part 28

Since the Industrial Revolution, there was too much money to be made at home in England for young lords to indulge their l.u.s.t for culture and travel.

'I agree.' I voiced my feelings on the matter. 'It is fortunate that we have taken this opportunity to see some of the world now, before the House of Lords and family life consume all of our time.'

I had to admit that I was relishing the adventure myself, and after Ashlee's latest deception I would know better than to waste any of my enjoyment worrying about her welfare.

FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE.

Travelling with gypsies had more advantages than I had originally imagined.

They knew the towns to avoid en route, and always went around the cities where government checkpoints might give them trouble.

Fortunately for me, Cingar's people were well-established traders in southern France and Italy, holding papers of pa.s.sage for every region through which we pa.s.sed.

The church had been trying to alter the nomadic lifestyle of the Rom and the other gypsy tribes of Europe for centuries. In some kingdoms, enslavement, imprisonment, deportation and having their children taken from them and placed in foster care, remained a very real threat; like the Chorons, many gypsy families had turned to trade to justify their nomadic lifestyle to the church and to be seen as benefiting society.

In the towns they did stop at, Cingar knew all the officials by name and his offerings of rare spices, fabrics and jewellery from as far afield as Arabia Petrea were always well received. In return, the gypsies were granted free pa.s.sage and a patch of ground on which to camp for an evening or two. There were also several coppersmiths among the men of the clan and their services were in demand wherever they went.

In tiny villages, Cingar's way with a violin was all the more appreciated-for master musicians did not usually visit these provincial venues. Many residents were not averse to having their fortunes told by the gypsy women either.

My caravan accommodation was cleaner and more comfortable than any I could have obtained at inns along our way. Many English people believed a myth about gypsies-that they were a dirty people. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I had wondered, when I first arrived in the camp, why each family transported so many large washtubs. I soon found out that the upper body and the lower body were never washed in the same tub, nor with the same cloth. The same applied to clothes-upper body clothes in one tub and lower body clothes in another. This explained why gypsy women wore skirts and blouses as opposed to dresses. And, as if the above was not extreme enough, men and children washed with one set of tubs, and women with another. I suppose it goes without saying, then, that bedding and dishes could not be washed using the same tub!

The weather never bothered these people: rain, wind or shine they were joyful just to be at liberty to wander-a sentiment which I shared completely. My beautiful horse felt the same, I believe, for he never tired of moving forward. Destiny had been a stabled horse all his life, and I suspect the constant stimulation was a great motivation for him. I very much enjoyed riding a horse male-fashion, and found I had far more stamina in the saddle this way.

The captain had not wavered in his pursuit of my affections, despite warnings from his grandmother, and I must confess that by the time we reached the Gulfe du Lion Gulfe du Lion I was seriously considering surrendering to his proposals. I was seriously considering surrendering to his proposals.

Late on the Sunday that marked a fortnight on the road, we made camp outside a coastal village on the outskirts of Ma.r.s.eilles.

The caravan of gypsies never entered Italy via the Alps, as the freezing cold and snow would hinder their journey. It always proved faster, and gave them far less grief, to travel through lower France and take the coastal route via Nice.

I had wandered away from camp to gaze upon the azure waters of the gulf and ease my stiff legs and rump, which were always numbed by the end of a day in the saddle. It was here that Chavi sought me out for a little chat.

Not being the kind of woman to beat around the bush she came right out and demanded that I release her grandson from my enchantment.

'I have not put a spell on the captain.' I chuckled at her a.s.sumption, until I saw how grave the expression of the old gypsy woman was.

'You have indeed,' Chavi accused, 'and well you know it! I am not speaking of a spell woven with a potion or a chant,' she said to forestall my impending denial. 'I speak of the charm that a heroine might have upon a humble male soul, awed by her deeds and strength of character.'

'I note that you do not consider it might be the heroine who has been enchanted,' I countered. What was the point of denying my attraction when she could see straight through me?

'Cingar is not the man you truly love,' Chavi pointed out, which shocked me slightly and angered me a little too. 'And he never will be,' she added firmly, knowing I was in doubt. 'Just toying with my grandson's emotions is placing the entire future of our family in great jeopardy.'

Now I thought that she really was exaggerating and she knew it at once.

'Let me tell you a little of our customs and then you may decide if I am delusional or not,' she offered, and I agreed.

It seemed that washing was not the only aspect of gypsy life that was subject to many taboos. For as Chavi spoke I fast came to realise that the little affair I had been contemplating so lightly could cause Cingar to be branded as marime, marime, which meant 'unclean', although the term carried so many more connotations than this for Chavi-dishonoured, set apart and contaminated, for example. For a gypsy man to be declared unclean was the greatest shame he could suffer and his entire household would suffer along with him, and so ruin his sister Rumer's chances of making a good marriage. which meant 'unclean', although the term carried so many more connotations than this for Chavi-dishonoured, set apart and contaminated, for example. For a gypsy man to be declared unclean was the greatest shame he could suffer and his entire household would suffer along with him, and so ruin his sister Rumer's chances of making a good marriage.

'It is social death.' Chavi wrapped up her case. 'Anything Cingar wears or touches would be contaminated, including his future wife and offspring, and their offspring and so on.'

'You can stop there, Chavi,' I a.s.sured her. I felt sick to the stomach when I considered the near-disaster my desire had caused. 'I can see that there is precious little point to saving a man from prison to have him banished instead.'

'You must reject Cingar firmly, as soon as possible, and free his heart to embrace other interests,' Chavi instructed rather than asked.

'Cingar's friendship means a lot to me. How can I do this without hurting him?' I had been doing a fair bit of flirting with him lately.

'Simply tell him the truth,' Chavi suggested, more sympathetic now that I had been safely diverted from her grandson. 'Tell him that your heart belongs to another...this, he will understand.'

'But the man of my heart is a traitor to the rest of me,' I said, although aware that such a confession was not entirely truthful.

Chavi took my hands and held them firmly as she briefly went into trance. 'It is your own reasoning that betrays you, not your husband.'

I gasped, for I had never once let slip that I was married having placed my wedding band with my valuables before I met up with the Charon clan. 'But he lied,' I protested, and yet I did not pull my hands from hers. I wanted her to prove me wrong about Devere.

'The gravity of that lie hangs on other a.s.sumptions you have made, and expecting the worst of everyone involved. But what if you have misjudged some of these situations-then, truly, how grievous is the offence of your beloved?'

I gasped at the shock that shot through my being at her words. The 'what ifs' of the past six months bombarded my brain all at once. What if Lord Hereford had died of natural causes? What if the real intent of this brotherhood was merely to protect me? What if the brothers' prediction of Hereford's death had come from prophecy, rather than murderous intent? Then they would have been warning Hereford against marrying me, rather than threatening him! What if Devere did love me? Even in arranged marriages there could be great love.

Chavi released my hands. 'I know I can trust you to do the right thing.'

I had to wonder if Chavi was polishing my husband's image in my eyes in order to take my focus off Cingar. Still, she had given me plenty of other incentives not to entertain a romance with our dear captain. 'I shall speak with him tonight.'

Chavi smiled. 'The G.o.ddess will bless you for your consideration.' She left me to stew in my disappointment.

Devere monopolised my thoughts following my talk with Chavi. I did not return to camp, but had taken a seat to watch the sunset, the gulf speckled with ships travelling to and from the nearby port.

I was considering that it might be better for all involved if I just booked myself on a boat leaving Ma.r.s.eilles and cover the rest of the distance to Cairo by sea. I had never travelled by ship over a long distance before, and so I had hoped to keep that part of the voyage as short as possible. But with what I was obliged to tell Cingar, I imagined that our relationship might be a little awkward and travelling together more of a strain than it had been to date.

The view was awe-inspiring and yet it could not lift the heaviness of my heart. As I considered that perhaps somehow somehow Devere might be blameless in all this and that I could have harshly misjudged him, I wept. Then the memory that I had perceived from Devere's mind the night I left him stopped the flow of tears. Devere might be blameless in all this and that I could have harshly misjudged him, I wept. Then the memory that I had perceived from Devere's mind the night I left him stopped the flow of tears.

The man I had seen threaten Lord Hereford was standing over my husband saying, 'Keep her safe, Devere. Learn about her, learn from her and keep me posted. If you can please this woman, you will become a very powerful man indeed. And, with any luck, you'll have many, many adept offspring.' 'Keep her safe, Devere. Learn about her, learn from her and keep me posted. If you can please this woman, you will become a very powerful man indeed. And, with any luck, you'll have many, many adept offspring.'

'You look like you could use this.'

I discovered Cingar was standing beside me, holding out a goblet of wine. 'I don't drink,' I declined, as I had every other time wine had been on offer.

'Sometimes it is best.' Cingar sat, and offered it to me again.

I felt as bad as ever I had and I knew a good cup of hot broth would serve me better. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I accepted the goblet from him and took a sip. The red fluid warmed my frosty mood a little and I managed to smile.

'My grandmother has said something to upset you?' Cingar suggested-I a.s.sumed he'd seen us talking.

I shook my head, afraid to speak, lest I dissolve into tears again. Another sip of wine calmed my erratic emotions and I found my voice. 'I have a confession to make.'

'To me?' Cingar was surprised and unsure.

'My real name is Mrs Ashlee Devere.'

'You're married!' I heard the devastation in his voice, and yet he had a glimmer of hope that perhaps my husband was deceased. 'Where is your husband now?'

'In hot pursuit of us, most likely,' I said in all truthfulness. 'The Duc de Guise promised to stall him in Orleans as long as he could, but my husband will not be deceived long.'

'Why-'

'Am I running from him?' I antic.i.p.ated the captain's query. 'Because he lied to me about something very important. Chavi seems to think I have judged him too harshly.'

'Hmmm...' Cingar was noncommittal, not wanting to say that his grandmother was seldom wrong in her soothsaying. 'Do you love this man?' The captain was ready to run off and slay him if I answered in the negative!

'I was falling deeply in love with him before I discovered his deceit. My doubt is more along the lines of, does he really love me?' I was annoyed when my tears began flowing. I never openly wept in front of anyone, and especially not over a man.

The captain hugged me comfortingly-never mind his own feelings that had just been crushed by my announcement.

I brushed away my tears and took a few more sips of wine. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth sooner. I had fancied that you might cast Devere out of my heart...I had no idea that such a scenario would see you banished by your people.' I looked at the captain who nodded, his expression more serious than usual.

'I was ready to trade my position for a life of travel with you. We all have our fantasies, and a desire to escape a mapped-out life.' Cingar waved away his dream and my deception. Clearly he knew as well as I did that our romance could never happen, and perhaps he was even a little relieved to have been thwarted. 'But reality has caught up with us, it seems.' He kissed my forehead and in those last shadows of daylight we savoured a hug that would never amount to anything more than the comfort between good friends.

'I feel certain that Chavi has picked you a fine wife.' I attempted to fill the hole that had erupted in my heart by drinking the remaining wine in my goblet.

The captain took a deep breath and then, resigning himself to hope for the best, he released it. 'Soon we will both be forced to confront the relationship we have been avoiding.'

'But not tonight,' I declared with relief.

'No...tonight we are free!' Cingar sprang to his feet. 'Let us eat, drink and dance away our cares.' He then offered me a hand, to help me up, which I accepted and accompanied him back toward the wonderful smells of food cooking.

It was impossible not to notice that the gypsy camp had doubled in size. When we returned to camp there were twice as many people, caravans and commotion than before.

'What has happened?' I asked of the captain.

'It looks as if my in-laws might have arrived.' Cingar squeezed my hand for strength and then let it go before we got too close to the camp. 'So much for being free this evening.'

'Then your bride is also here!' I ribbed Cingar by sounding excited and curious.

'Perhaps.' He seemed unready to face that possibility. 'What if I hate her?' He pulled up short, savouring his last opportunity to avoid this whole affair.

'The way I see it...if Chavi is as good a psychic as I credit her to be, then surely neither of us has anything to worry about.' Did I believe what I was telling him? It didn't matter. Cingar needed some positive persuasion and it seemed to work.

'An excellent point, Mrs Devere,' he smiled, appreciatively. 'Wish me luck.' He headed into the turbulence that had erupted in his absence.

I need not have worried about breaking Cingar's heart. Not an hour after I had broken the news of my marital status to him, he was romancing one of the new arrivals through his heart-capturing talent on the violin. Unfortunately, the girl who had captured his interest was not the captain's intended-his bride would be arriving on the morrow, once her parents and Chavi had settled on a price for her.

The woman who had our good captain so enchanted was the younger sister of his bride and her name was Jessenia.

Even though a female, I could appreciate the beauty of this woman: she was strong and independent, chaste and level-headed. She was doing a marvellous job of appearing to be unimpressed with Cingar's grandstanding, but I could see how her heart centre flushed with pink light and sparkled at his attentions. It was clear to me that Chavi had a whole new problem on her hands.

On the subject of new problems, it seemed I had one of my own the next morning when I awoke. My head was pounding and for a moment I had no idea where I was or what I was doing there. 'Oooh...ouch...'

Let me congratulate you on your first hangover.

It was Albray who spoke and yet his voice was very faint, as if he was a vast distance away. I rolled over onto my back to look for him. 'Albray? Where are you?'

I'm right in front of you.

My eyelids really didn't want to venture too far apart, but I strained the burning eyeb.a.l.l.s beneath. All I saw was the inside of the caravan. 'What am I thinking?' I saw Albray with my third eye, not my physical eyes, and closing my eyelids to focus my inner eye I perceived my knight, arms folded, staring down at me, unimpressed. 'You're very faint,' I observed.

I'm not the one who is vague today, he lectured. he lectured. Please do me the courtesy of removing the stone from your person, so 1 do not have to tolerate YOUR splitting headache. Please do me the courtesy of removing the stone from your person, so 1 do not have to tolerate YOUR splitting headache.

'I'm so sorry.' I felt guilt and remorse for having drunk so much last night. Watching Cingar romance another, and feeling nothing but happiness for him, had made me feel all the more that Devere had got the better of me again-I still loved him. I slid the stone's chain from around my left wrist.

And as I can be of little use to you at present, you may as well dismiss me until you're feeling more yourself.

'You're angry with me.' I hadn't played the reprimanded child for some time.

Yes, I am angry with you . .. the caravan is at leisure today. We could have finally had some time to work on your tuition, but no, you had to go and drown your senses in alcohol!

'And you have never done that, I suppose?' I mumbled in my own defence.

Albray got down off his high horse and sighed. I just hate to see you make the same mistakes I did. I just hate to see you make the same mistakes I did.

'Then why didn't you say something last night?' My query sparked another. 'Where were you last night?'

Scouting, he said. he said.

'Scouting for what?'

For whom, rather. whom, rather.

'For Devere?'

Albray gave a vague nod.

'And did you find him?'

Albray shook his head, but I felt that he was either lying or not telling me the whole truth. Still, he had asked me not to handle the stone, so I couldn't psychically check-not that my psychic senses were up to the challenge this morning anyway.

There was a knock on my caravan door. 'Miss Winston. Are you awake?'

It was Cingar.