“Stay low and slow,” Crystalina says, throwing her head back towards Garty, whose horse is on Snow’s heels. They arrive at a clearing and the sound of a bubbling brook causes Brill to neigh lightly as if speaking a 'thank you' to the stallion who has now stopped and is prancing lightly after the long run and snorting happily.
Crystalina turns towards Garty and slips off Snow’s back as easily as sliding a slim foot into a fine slipper. His heart tumbles again. Everything she does fascinates him. Her flowing scarlet dress, decorated with the most intricate embroidery and fitted to perfection on her young and slightly voluptuous-virginal frame, stuns his thoughts more than he can bear. He wants to rush to her, sweep her up and kiss her strawberry red lips, nuzzle in her silk tresses and gaze into her spell-binding eyes. Instead, he jumps off Brill and leads him to the stream for a well earned drink of pure mountain water. He dares not to look at Crystalina, for I might morph into a jelly man. He smiles at his own thoughts.
She has brought Snow towards the stream and is now sitting down on a flat rock almost overgrown with moss. He glances at her and it happens again, his heart fibrillates wildly. If he is not careful his emotions will get him into serious trouble with such a female of extraordinary strength, dexterity and of course, immense beauty. He knows that he must take more control over his emotions but it seems impossible right now! Crystalina is casual and unaware of her affect on his deepest thoughts, his disturbed psyche. She looks towards him and her face is grave. He waits for her to speak to command him to kiss her. He will, gladly. Instead, he chokes on his words and allows them to spill out as a dribbling tap.
“Who are these people tracking me? Do you know?” He genuinely feels disturbed and disappointed with himself for not noticing anyone following from the inn. He was careful, so how did they know where he had gone?
“These people are enemies of King Swanfeather. They are known as Axemanix’s hit men! They must have followed you. It is your fault entirely!” she says with daggers in her eyes. He genuinely experiences a shower of fear raging through his torso.
“I am so sorry,” he says. “I never meant to cause any trouble to you and your mother.”
“They know us and have threatened us before,” she says slowly. “Very dangerous people.” She pauses.
Her thoughts become private for a few moments.
“Do you want to drink or carry on?” She asks in a factual tone.
“Carry on?” He asks. “I thought we were safe now?”
“No, Sir, we are not safe. I must hide out somewhere near here for a while. You must go back to the inn and stay in safety,” she adds. “I am worried for your safety!”
Garty tosses his cape back behind his shoulders and shows the butt of his pistol. “I am armed,” he says proudly. “And I can shoot well,” he affirms.
“All very well, but there are three of them,” she argues logically. “I observed them coming.” She pauses and appears distressed momentarily. “They will take Snow for sure, and maybe me too, if they feel they need a hostage,” she says gloomily, but then she smiles and smashes his heart again.
Garty wants to take her in his arms and make passionate love to her, right here in the soft green grass and luscious daisies, primroses and cowslips, roll around in her arms for the rest of his life. He mentally rejects his thoughts and speaks as a rational being and not a love maniac.
“I am sorry to put your lives in danger. I shall take your advice and return for now.”
She steps towards him and he quivers inside. Of course, he has not paid her mother. Did she want money? He slips out his velvet pouch and shakes out two gold coins. That is equal to a month’s wages, maybe a year’s wages for some, he reckons. I owe this to her and her mother.
“Please give these to your mother?”
Crystalina holds her palm out and he places the coins within, accidentally touching her firm skin. Every part of this young wild woman was firm and flexible, soft and firm, incomprehensible to his soul. She shattered his every thought and her power slithers deeply into his soul, mind and body.
She must never know of my feelings. I am, after all, a Knight and gentleman first and last.
“Whatever my mother said to you, do not believe her. She is a great liar.” Her words are almost spat out, as if hatred lives deep inside them. She tosses her hair and her eyes beam into his, piercing his heart and shattering it into a million pieces. He literally shakes his thoughts as a dog shakes water off its coat.
Garty is shocked at her words. She obeys her mother but now says she is a liar! This is a female that he cannot fathom!
“Please, give this one to your mother, for I gave her nothing at all after she came to see me yesterday. Please promise!” He hands her another golden coin. His eyes plead with her crystal ball eyes that now turn dark and broody. Crystalina snatches the coin roughly, scratching his palm slightly. A shiver races through his spine. She has become angered. She controls herself and says meekly, “I promise,” in a monotone. “I do not lie…much!” she adds as her conscience kicks in.
“You must leave now, before they track you down,” she says in a serious tone. She swirls away from him, her skirt brilliant in the afternoon sunlight, like an exotic bird.
Swiftly, she leaps on her horse, seated like one leading a troupe to war, hair blowing against the wind. Her silk dress clings to her soft curved breasts, showing their promise and tantalisation of all red blooded men.
The exercise renders her cheeks with a warm glow, like a pink rose in bloom, Garty thinks. A dark side lurks in this lovely rose, a black heart that worries me as much as her dramatic side woos my heart.
She speaks from her mount as if she is some casual teacher giving straight forward directions to a pupil.
“Ride along the narrow way until you come to a crossing. Turn left and carry on for fifteen minutes. Work your way towards the bridge. Then you can see the inn in the distance. Not many folk know this route, but be careful, highwaymen live around here!” She looks at him and then away into the distance, assessing her own route while he considers her words.
“Thank you kindly,” he says meaningfully. He waves goodbye, but she has already vanished into the woods, hidden by foliage. “Farewell,” he shouts in vain.
Garty rides towards the inn, concocting plans to continue his commission. Surely he shall meet with her again? His heart is divided, sore and bleeding with wildest thoughts of beautiful females on horseback. My dreams should fade in time, he thinks miserably?
In the meantime, Axemanix’s hit men have reached the Gypsies’ camp and they are busily trying to locate a member of the tribe in order to uncover information. They bang noisily on Janda’s door, “Let us in. We wish to speak with you,” says a voice that sounds like a saw moving on hardwood.
Janda the clairvoyant opens her small door and stares into the faces before her. As her view widens she sees three men of mighty appearance, big, strong, with leather and velvet garments trimmed with pure gold. Animal furs drape over their shoulders with tiny frozen faces on one end that look like dead foxes or even dead red bears!
The face that leads the way is one with keen clear eyes, black as night. His face is bony, yet flushed with the faintest tint of pink. His nose spreads to fill in a lot of space between the rest of his face. It appears as if someone has boxed him hard. His lips are narrow and his hair darkest red, as fire. Gypsy Janda did not feel afraid of these men, for she had encountered such folk for most of her fifty years. Her fear had long dissipated with life’s rough and tumble.
“Ye cannot pass this door lest you cross my palm with silver,” she says, determinedly. Her eyes pierce into his thoughts.
The man steps away in shock. Who was this woman who defied a man who could possibly be the king’s advisor in a few months when Axemanix came to the throne?
Gypsy Janda had covered her head and face with a black lace veil, which she used cleverly to disguise herself and mystify others.
The man stares at her for a moment, contemplating whether to push her or give her a coin. A man with ebony hair standing beside him on a lower step of the van entrance hands him a silver coin.
“Here, give it to her,” he suggests.
Their leader takes the coin and placed it in the woman’s palm.
She heaves a sigh, shoves the coin somewhere in a pocket and invites the three men inside.
“You may come in and sit down,” she orders. “But wipe your filthy boots on that mat there,” she commands. They obey without hesitation!
The three men fill the van space almost to capacity, with their animal skin clothing, including clutter of animal skins and game furs all over their necks, arms and around their waists. Signs of their previous spoils and class distinction!
On the very same table where she had spoken to Garty minutes before, there is now a magnificent crystal ball on a stand of topaz and crystal. It looks impressive to her visitors. She notices that they stare at the round ball with wonderment. Next to the ball, she lays three packs of cards, black, red and yellow. They lay face down on the table that she and Garty had shared a golden drink of pure apple juice.
“You,” she points a long bony finger with very long nails painted black, at the first man. “I shall tell thee what thy fortune will be,” she says, using her mysterious voice that immediately mesmerises her victims.
The man sits down, bumping the table and almost ended up on the floor. He morphs into shock. All his life he had desired to visit a gypsy fortune teller, but had never done so. He waits, his eyes and mouth wide open. The other two men stood behind him, hypnotised.
The woman peers into the crystal ball and utters words in a strange language. Her hands wave over the globe as the men watch in fascination. She bangs her hands on the table.
“What did you see?” The man asks, his face turned ghostly white.
She shakes her head and stares into his eyes. “I cannot say what I saw because it is…” she pauses.
“Pick a card,” she commands him as she picks a pack of cards and fans it out towards him. His shaking hand moves closer and he picks a card, passes it to her. With slow movements and deep thought, she places the card on the table before him. It has the figure of a Jack with a scythe in his hand.
“Pick another one,” she commands. He does so and she places that one right side up next to the first. The picture is that of a King wearing a crown of gold.
“Another,” she says, holding the pack towards him. He chose another and she places that card right side up next to the other two. It is a picture of a Queen.
She looks up slowly into the man’s face. “Do not speak of these things outside of these walls,” she warns. The man shook his head so much she could feel the flies and spiders rushing away. She had him under her power now. She rose up. “That is all,” she says.
The man with the dead animals on his shoulders jumped up awkwardly, “What are you saying? You told me nothing,” he says.
“Cross my palm with silver,” she says in a monotone voice. The second man, who carried the purse gave him a silver coin. It is larger than the first one they gave her. Her eyes light up somewhat, and behind the veil, she make a happy gurgling sound.