The Greek Maiden and the Lord- Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1



September 1831

It was the day of the festival and the town square in the French city of Caen was crowded with the locals as well as visitors from England and other parts of France. Bells from the nearby Saint-Sauveur le Vieux church chimed, while musicians sang and performed juggling acts. Vendors shouted, bargained, and sold their goods in the square. Their carpets were spread before them, laden with an assortment of items, such as textiles from Lyon, handcrafted goods, and tools. Vendors with dogcarts sold food, including French cheese, sausages, and brioche. Enticing scents emanated from the barrels filled with spices from India, which mixed and fused together in wild profusion with the pungent smell of leather in one corner and freshly baked bread in the other. The hotels in the vicinity catered to the English visitor, offering the famous French apple cider calvados drink or English tea for the women. By late afternoon, the festival was deemed a success, as crowds upon crowds of people had joined the revelry.

    If one wanted their fortune told, they would visit Mirela, the famous gypsy fortune-teller located at the outskirts of the square. It was said that she had traveled the world telling fortunes. Once at the tent, one would inevitably find a line of people waiting to have their fortune told. A dark-haired gypsy lad stood in front of the entrance ready to usher the next person inside.

    Behind the tent, sixteen-year old Lily, Mirela’s granddaughter sat on a stool reading a French novel. Her brows furrowed as she tried to understand the meaning of some of the more difficult French words. Her thick honey-blonde braids brushed the pages as she leaned forward, laboring with the words. Although she was thankful that her grandmother had taught her to speak and read French and English, and even a little Greek, she realized she had a long way to go. Next to her lay the old black hairpiece; it was ragged and today several chunks of hair were missing, thanks to their horse Tsingana who had taken bites out of it. Her grandmother insisted she wear it, so that she wouldn’t stand out from the other gypsies, but Lily never liked wearing it if she did not have to, so she had removed it for now until it was needed.

    The conversation inside the tent came to a close, alerting Lily. She threw her wig on her head and stuck the book in her skirt pocket.

    “Aurevoir,” Mirella announced loudly.

    In one fluid movement Lily jumped up and opened the flap of the tent. “S’il vous plait, Madame, suivez moi,” she said melodiously to the stout matron, bowing. Then, taking her gloved hand led her away from the tent and around the stone building to the cobbled alley. Lily pointed to the left, towards the general direction of the crowds, then promptly returned to her reading.

    Later that evening, Gertrude Charleton entered Mirela’s tent. She was dressed in the latest fashion, with her blue walking dress and matching wide hat adorned with lofty feathers and loops of blue ribbons. “I am so glad I found you here, Mirela!” she said, removing her snug-fitting gloves. “So much has happened since two years ago, in Paris, when you read my future.”

    Mirela sat at a small table, with two lit candles and a crystal ball in the middle of it. She was a plump, middle-aged woman, decked in flashy apparel and a purple turban. “I have been expecting you.” She spoke in perfect English, her voice calm and dusky. “Please, sit down.”

    Gertrude sat gingerly on the small stool and leaned forward expectantly.  “After you told me about Mr. Penbroke, I checked up on him.”

    “Yes?” Mirela prompted.

    “You were right! He gambled, and was in terrible debt, and I decided not to marry him. If I had, he would have run through my inheritance money in no time! I am sure of it! So I married Sir Douglas Charleton after all.” She proudly showed her the gold band on her hand. “I am Lady Charleton now.”

    Mirela nodded, her dark, heavy-lidded eyes gleaming. “Ah, your neighbor’s nephew. I remember. You are to be commended for your wise choice, Lady Charleton.”

    “With help from you, of course! I will always be in your debt.”

    “I am happy for you, but I must remind you that it is not I who makes your future. I just tell you what I see. It was your decision and you acted upon it.”

    “But it was you who opened my eyes!” Gertrude insisted. “If there is ever a need for assistance in anything…”

    Mirela’s eyes flashed open briefly. The vision she saw last night in her dream hit a nerve deep inside of her; the woman before her was going to take the person she cherished the most away from her. “Later… we can talk. Let us begin.” She stared a few minutes at the crystal ball on the table. Her large, round gold earrings glistened under the nearby candlelight. “You are visiting France with your husband?”

    “Yes, we have a house in Paris and come here often… for business. We will be leaving tomorrow afternoon for England with my husband’s packet ship.”

    “Ah…on a business trip.”

    Gertrude looked down, twisting her gloves restlessly. “When my husband left the navy, he entered the cotton textiles business. It is not that he needs the money…he inherited quite a bit from his late father, who was an Admiral in the Royal Navy, as well as his father’s title of baronet…and I also brought money into the marriage.” She looked up. “He just likes to make more of it. Although trade is not quite accepted by the ton.” She appeared guilty.

    “Maybe trade is not, but money is accepted by the ton, and trade brings money.”

      “That is what he thinks,” Gertrude said, exceedingly pleased by the answer. “Recently, he went to Lyon, where he met Jacques, a French businessman who claims he could supply him with cheap silk textiles from that region. I want to know if silk is right for us at this time.”

    Mirela gazed at the gleaming ball. “I do not see anything wrong with his choice. But I do see machines, many of them, for the cotton. The looms will help your cotton textiles business grow.”

    Lady Charleton thanked Mirela. A shadow flitted over her features. “My husband’s uncle is quite ill. The doctor said he does not have much time left.”

    “This uncle, I see he is ill, and yet…a change of climate could help his condition.”

    Mirela’s large shadow leaned forward, her turbaned head close to the lady’s plumed head. They were whispering.

    Outside, Lily held a tallow candle in the dark, trying to read her book but was not able to concentrate after two drops of candle wax landed on the page. Disgusted, she set the book aside, not wanting to damage the pages. Even more importantly, she had been listening in on Lady Charleton’s conversation inside the tent and it had become more interesting. 

    “My younger sister, Charlotte, is in love,” Gertrude said with lowered voice.

    Mirela gave an inaudible question.

    Lily moved closer to the tent, trying to hear their conversation. Just then, the sound of a carriage clattering by caught her attention. It was unusual for carriages to come by here. This was a narrow road and besides, carriages were quite expensive and only the rich rode in them. The clattering sound stopped. Curiosity got the better of her. She scrambled toward the back of the building to see what it was.

    “Charlotte just turned twenty-one,” Gertrude was saying to Mirela, “and has confided in me that she is in love with Edward, who is my husband’s cousin. I am not surprised. Indeed he is wealthy and quite handsome. Even I had a crush on him at one time, but that was so long ago.” She tittered.

    “Hmm, and you want to know if she is the right woman for him.” Mirela’s eyes narrowed as her hands hovered above the ball. “Yes…I sense a woman near him.”

    “You do? What does she look like?”

    “Attractive…and brightly clothed, like a butterfly.”

    “That sounds like her. She loves to dress in the latest fashion.”

    “She appears to be important in his life. They are holding hands.”

    “Oh, that is grand! Is there anything more you can tell me? Will there be a wedding?”

    Mirela squinted at the ball. A shadow hovered above the couple. That was not a good sign. Also, a shape emerged next to the couple. Was it another woman? She could not be sure. She sighed and leaned back, feeling drained. “That is all I can tell you.”

    “Mirela, thank you so much! If only I could repay you for all the good you have done me!”

    “Please, put your money back in your purse, for I do plan to take you up on your offer.”

    Lily glanced back at the tent see if she was needed. The silhouettes of the two women were still bent over the crystal ball. A horse snorted, causing her to turn once more and peer curiously down the black alley. Unable to see a thing, she leaned forward, shifting the sputtering tallow candle towards that direction, revealing a closed carriage and horses. It was at that moment that Lily smelled the stark, pungent smoke. She glanced down, then gasped at the soaring flames searing her hair. Shocked, she cried out in alarm, but nothing came out of her mouth except a croaking sound. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she move?

    What came next happened so quickly that it would remain a blur in her memory. Someone pushed her to the ground, rolling her in some thick, scratchy fabric. The scent of sandalwood and spice replaced the smell of smoke. “N’enquietez pas, ma petite,” said a man’s voice, deep and soothing.

    Lily struggled to be free when she heard the man’s voice. She did not want to be a captive in his arms, whomever he was. The warm wool was lifted from her. Trembling like a leaf, feeling the coldness of the evening press upon her, she arose. The tall shape of the man kept a respectful distance as she swiped at her face and clothes. She felt stronger by the minute. “Merci, monsieur,” she rasped gratefully. Her throat still felt raw from the smoke. “I do not know what I would have done without your help.”

      “Ah, so you also speak English.”

    Lily was silent, unsure as to how to reply to this English man’s gentle probing. If he found out she was a gypsy, who spoke several languages, he would turn his heel quickly, checking his pockets to make sure she did not steal something.

    “I was in that carriage when I saw your head glowing like a ball of fire in the night,” he said gently. “I used my coat to put the flames out. You should be more careful in the future.”

    Lily was touched by his words. He spoke endearingly, like a father to a child. A gadgo speaking in such a manner was unusual.

    “Good-bye!” Mirela announced from inside the tent.

    Lily’s head swiveled towards the tent. Her grandmother’s call could not be ignored. “I must go now.” She ran shakily around the building, thankful for the candlelight inside the tent guiding her way. She threw the wig on her head and pulled the flap open to reveal Lady Charleton standing there.

    Lily curtsied, her head low. “Please follow me, my Lady.” She grabbed her gloved arm to lead her.

      Gertrude pulled her arm away, appearing annoyed. “That is quite all right. I can find my way.”

    Lily watched the lady glide forward. She wondered if the man would still be there. Maybe he was the lady’s coachman. As if reading her mind, the man’s tall shape materialized.

    “Hello, Gertrude. Douglas asked me to come for you,” he told the lady.

    “What a surprise to see you here!” Lady Charleton exclaimed, sounding pleased to see him. She clung to him as they walked away, their dark shapes blending into the night.

    Lily stared at their retreating shadows. She did not even know the name of her rescuer.

                                       

* * *



    Gertrude sank into the plush seat of the carriage. “I was expecting Douglas to collect me. You can imagine my surprise when you showed up instead. I thought I was seeing a ghost!”

    Edward flashed her a handsome smile. “I met him at the hotel, and he asked that I attend to you. He was busy with…a transaction. He sends his apologies.”

    “It is so good to see you again! We were waiting all day for your arrival from Italy. What happened, pray tell?”

    “My apologies. I was delayed there, something to do with a large shipment I was sending to England.”

    “I understand your dilemma. We are always delayed for some reason or another when it comes to our textile shipments.” Gertrude sighed, then her eyes twinkled as she gazed at him. “Dear Edward, tell me, how were your travels? It has been at least three years since you left England.”

    “Extraordinary, and always something new to see or do.” He discussed a few highlights of the trip. “The courts in Europe were particularly noteworthy. I met several people of distinction that made my time there useful.”

    “You must tell us all about it! I admit, you took so long in coming back, we thought you might have met some beautiful exotic woman and decided to live on some secluded island with her for the rest of your life!” she said playfully.

    Edward laughed. “It was not like that at all, I assure you. No. I am still a free man.”

    “Well that is good. There are some people besides us who are glad that you are returning to England. Your old friends all ask about you, and Charlotte is very keen on seeing you too.”

    Edward was silent. He had grown up knowing the wealthy Stantons, who were their neighbors. He recalled their small and feisty youngest daughter, Charlotte, who seemed to always need rescuing from some mishap. “It has been a long time,” he replied. “We will be leaving tomorrow on the packet?”

    “Yes, in the afternoon.”

    “That suits me.” Edward wanted to see his father as soon as possible.

    They arrived at the hotel and Edward helped Gertrude down from the carriage. She held a handkerchief to her nose. He knew that she was too well mannered to mention anything about the smoky scent coming from his suit. The handkerchief was enough of a signal.

    Edward bowed, excusing himself. “I need to attend to a few things. Have a good evening.”

    The lobby was empty as he headed for his room, intent of ridding himself of the smoke-infested suit that a little gypsy girl had unintentionally spoilt.

                                                 

          * * *



    Later that evening, after the last customer left, Lily entered the tent, feeling tired and hungry. Mirela was busy counting her coins, while perfumed scents from the female customers clung heavily in the air. Lily removed the wig and dreamily combed her fingers through her hair, thinking about the tall stranger who saved her from the fire.

    Mirela finished her counting. “We did very well today.” She looked at Lily and blinked. “What happened to your hair?” 

    “My braid got caught in the candle.” Lily was about to tell her about her rescuer, but her grandmother interrupted her.

    “That’s all right. We do not have much time!” Mirela pulled the other stool close to her. “Sit. There is something important I must say to you.”

    Lily obeyed her grandmother, especially whenever she used that tone. She sat submissively by her side. Her grandmother’s fleshy hand was clammy as it took hers.

    “I saw a dream last night…a prophetic vision…where a young woman I knew came and took you away. I woke up feeling terrified and did not know what it meant until this evening when Lady Charleton appeared. I know she came tonight because of you.”

    “Me?” Lily squeaked, surprised by the news.

    Mirela nodded. Her dark eyes bored into Lily’s eyes. “It is your destiny to leave with her.”

    Lily was used to hearing about her grandmother’s visions, but this was the first time it had anything to do with her. How could this woman be linked to her destiny? “Why do I have to leave?” she cried, feeling palpitations in her stomach.

    “Sshh,” Mirela said soothingly, although she herself appeared to be perturbed. She stared at Lily’s dirty palm, then shook her head and sighed. “There is no other path. The time has come for you to leave us, Lily, and the reason…you ask? It is here, a lie that must be revealed.”

    “What are you saying?” Lily cried in dismay.

    “A lie that I have lived with for a decade, that has been knocking on my heart heavily, seeking to be free!” Mirela said, pounding her chest dramatically. “I can no longer ignore it. I must tell you the truth.” She sighed heavily. “Although you call me grandmother, I am not your real grandmother.”

    Lily was stunned from the admission. This was not at all what she had expected. “That cannot be!”

    Mirela gazed sadly at her. “You always wondered why you stood out from the other gypsies, your tall height, your fair hair…your eyes…and I told you lies. They were all lies!” She said, her eyes reddening, her normally calm face appearing distorted. “Your parents were not gypsies! Your mother was not my daughter!” She stopped to compose herself. “You are a gadjo.”

    The silence was deafening.

                                                 * * *