Thirty-one: The Journey Begins

Selene walked out of the church and took in the five wagons parked before it. The family had already disembarked and there was quite the crowd gathered in the churchyard. The three vardos she recognised from Toma’s previous visits; the first, a deep ox-blood red with gold trimmings, was the home of Toma’s father-in-law, Mihai Boskov, his wife Nadara, and their daughter Ilona, who was a few years older than Stella. This trip would likely be the last time she met Ilona; by the next time Toma visited, his young sister-in-law would be married and living with her husband’s family.

Toma was unusual for living with his wife’s family, but his elder brothers and both parents were dead, and Romani never travelled alone. He had brought his grandmother, Esmerelda, to live with them, too, and she shared the third vardo, a beautiful sky blue one with gold trimmings, with Toma, his wife Elena, and their mob of children.

The second vardo, a rich emerald green with gold trimmings, belonged to Toma’s brother-in-law, Petri Boskov, his wife Anika, and their children. Between the two young families, there were at least ten little ones roaming the churchyard, the oldest Toma’s eleven-year-old daughter Lenka, the youngest young enough that Selene realised she had never met them. Toma had left with the East Prussian baron so quickly when he last stopped by that there had been no real time for introductions, and some of those children were under three years old.

Selene walked down the stairs of the church and stopped before Mihai. He was a tall man, taller than her by several inches, but she doubted he matched Stella in height. He was dressed in drab colours, but had five thick gold chains around his neck and large gold rings on every finger. The Romani didn’t trust banks, so wore their wealth instead of investing it. Anyone looking at him would know he had some wealth, but anyone who knew anything about wagons would update that some to lots. The three vardos were from Dunton’s of Reading, the Rolls Royce of horse-drawn caravans. “Hello,” she greeted him. “How have you been?”

“Selene, you look wonderful as always,” the incorrigible old flirt replied. “We are well, we are well and we are here for you. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Mihai,” she went to shake his hand and he pulled her into a hug. When she’d freed herself, Toma and his wife Elena were already beside her. She hadn’t had a chance to see Elena the other day, but now she took in the woman’s huge belly with a smile. “Another, Elena? How many does this make now?”

Elena was a short woman with an astounding amount of thick, black hair. It reached to her waist but was so curly that if she ever straightened it, it might be past her knees. She was also incredibly far along in her latest pregnancy, and looked like she might give birth in the churchyard. Elena smiled and pointed at the toddler Toma was holding, perched easily on his hip. “Five.” She patted her stomach. “Six.”

“Uncle Toma!” Stella yelled as she hurtled out of the church towards them. Violet followed at a more restrained pace.

Selene greeted Petri, then turned back to Mihai. “We will be ready shortly, Mihai. It will not take us long to bring the children out. They are travelling in the tilt wagons, yes?” The last two wagons were unpainted brown flat beds with plain grey canvas stretched over them, used to transport goods.

He nodded. “The first wagon. The second is still for supplies.”

“I shall bring them out in a moment. A few of them have… certain peculiarities of appearance; deformities, one might say. I quite understand your grandchildren may stare, of course, but if they could be asked to refrain from speaking of it, I should be grateful. The poor things are terribly skittish.”

“They won’t say a word,” Toma assured her, turning into the conversation. “In fact, I was just going to take them nettle picking in the graveyard. We can have fresh nettle tea tonight.”

Selene smiled as she glanced over at the short, muscular man. He was only an inch or so taller than his wife, but he was a trained smith and his large muscles and small stature gave him a squat appearance. “Thank you, Toma.”

As Toma led a mob of children out amongst the tombstones, Selene asked Stella to load the last wagon with the supplies she had packed, and then headed back into the church. There were eight teenagers and two women waiting just inside the building for her. Three of the teenagers had long blankets over their heads, draping down their bodies, like cloaks. Only their faces were visible. In the darkness of the hooded recess, Rafael’s deep brown bark faded into shadow. Ana’s cactus spines couldn’t be easily spotted. Manuel’s human-looking face peered out of his. His digitigrade legs and elongated arms were hidden by the blanket, but nothing could hide his humpback. At least that was something a human might have.

Not that these children weren’t human, she thought with a grimace.

Selene took a moment to glance over the others. They each held a small bag with two changes of clothes, a pillow, and a blanket. Isabel was standing at their head, already falling easily into her role as group spokesperson. Maria, the blue-eyed healer, stood right behind her. Luis was at the back of the group, which made sense since he dwarfed everyone else in the room by at least a head and shoulders. The massive youth was built like a bear, and was almost half a foot taller than Stella. To the side, Kusi Sisa and Kannika waited quietly. They had no belongings except what they wore.

“The Romani have arrived,” Selene said in Spanish. “You shall be travelling in the fourth wagon, so have no fear of being seen. I shall accompany you, of course. Have you everything you need?”

Isabel glanced around at the other teenagers. “We are ready.” Her reply was in English, heavily accented. She was taking every opportunity to improve her understanding of the language.

Selene repeated herself in English to the two women her daughter had saved from a brothel. They were also ready, and keen to be further from Sabini influence.

When Selene led them out of the church there were fewer people in sight, and all of them seemed busy. No one was staring at the traumatised teenagers, and she took that as a good thing. She led them down the stairs to the first tilt wagon, and helped Maria clamber aboard. Because of his bulk, Luis had to sit in the centre, and Isabel sat the most forward. Kannika was at the rear and Kusi Sisa near the front.

When Selene left the wagon, she found Mihai securing a second horse to the front of it. Most Romani wagons, even the vardos, were drawn by single horses unless they were travelling uphill. The Boskovs were wealthy enough to have three more horses than wagons, which was a good thing. They’d never have shifted Luis’ bulk with a single horse.

A little after that, Toma returned with nine kids following him. They were sorted into the vardos of their parents, half going into the one Petri was driving. Elena took her place at the front of the tilt wagon the teenagers were in and Selene joined her.

“I can drive the wagon, if you wish,” Selene said.

“Selene, I love you,” the Romani woman replied, which was the strangest and most pleasant no Selene had ever received. “If I thought I couldn’t drive a wagon in my condition, my mother or even Toma’s grandmother could take over.”

Selene nodded as she sat beside the heavily pregnant woman. Because of Farnika, Selene and Stella were almost like family to Toma and his in-laws, but they weren’t actually family. No one who wasn’t Romani could ever truly be family. She wouldn’t be given a family wagon to drive.

Stella approached and Selene looked her daughter over. She had no concerns about Stella being hurt, or even her ability to survive on her own, but she knew her daughter would do better alone in the wilds than in a city. “You listen to Violet,” she said. “Remember what we discussed about responsibility, but outside of that, you listen to her, and do what she says.”

“Yes, mama.”

With that last farewell, they were off.

St Anne’s nestled along the south of Commercial Road, but the churchyard’s entrance was to the west, on Newell Street. They headed south from there, to where Newell Street became Three Colt Street, then followed that north to Commercial Road, before finally beginning their journey west.

It was early morning, but the streets were busy. Trams and buses passed them frequently, and they made slow progress through the traffic. Selene glanced back at the teenagers she was secretly escorting. They were sitting in silence in the wagon, not even speaking amongst themselves.

“How have you all been?” she asked Elena, turning her attention forward once more. It had been three years since they had last seen each other. Elena had had a child since then and was pregnant again. Selene wondered if Farnika knew.

“Good. Little Eleni is a joy.”

“Eleni?”

“Toma insisted we call a child after me, but I refused another Elena. Too confusing! How are you liking the city?”

“I preferred the forest, but Farnika thought Stella needed this. It has been good for her, I can say that.”

“She is so much taller now. I thought the lack of fresh air kept city folk short, but the smog clearly agrees with her.”

Selene laughed.

Over the next several hours, they continued westward, passing St. Paul’s, crossing Trafalgar Square, and eating sandwiches for lunch as they moved along Kensington Road. A few hours after that, the city changed. It was no longer a constant urban sprawl of brick and cement. There were gaps between the houses, with gardens and hedgerows instead of walls. Less chimneys meant less smoke and smog, and more open sky, a gorgeous cerulean blue dotted with fluffy white clouds that stretched forever.

The road was wider and quieter, and the birdsong changed as they entered the countryside. Selene released tension she hadn’t realised she was holding. It wasn’t her forest, but it was better than the damn city at least.

Previous Chapter: Chapter Thirty

Next Chapter: Chapter Thirty-two

Author’s Note

Today’s queerguide has a post on cultural respect. You might find it interesting.