Disclaimer: The characters in this story are copyrights of Paramount and Fireworks Productions. No infringement is intended. This story plot is original and copyright of the author, Maril Swan.

Gitano

by Maril Swan

Part 2 of 2

Marta fell back easily into the rhythm of the gitano's days, working with the women, helping her mother with her healing potions, and spending hours telling stories about Madrid and her time there. My people, she thought time and again, as she kept busy about the camp. How wonderful they are, how they have survived in spite of everything, how they have kept their joy of life no matter how much hardship is inflicted upon them.

As the fall days turned to winter, Tessa showed no sign of wanting to leave. To Marta's surprise, she did her share of chores in the camp. But, as Marta observed with some concern, she also spent time with those of the gitano who had skills they showed for entertainment, trying to learn those skills herself. Whenever Marta had time to watch, Tessa might be trying her hand at knife-throwing under the watchful eye of Lorenzo whose skill with the knife was amazing. Another time, she would be juggling with Pico whose face showed his delight in her company and her interest in his art. Or she would be learning some of Rafael's trick riding techniques while he held the horse on a lunge line.

One day, several weeks after they had come into the camp, Marta saw Tessa with Uncle Tonio and her heart nearly stopped with fright. He was demonstrating the use of the bullwhip, making it snake and dance, picking off targets with incredible accuracy. Her face paled as she took a step toward them, her eyes hardened with anger. Her mother grabbed her arm, and shook her head.

"Tonio will not let anything happen to her. Let her learn whatever she is interested in. It can do her no harm and I feel these skills may someday be useful."

Marta laughed scornfully. "Yes, Mama, trick riding, tumbling, juggling and knife-throwing are certainly the skills a Spanish lady needs. She will be quite a sensation in California!" She relapsed into a watchful silence, starting when Luisa spoke again.

"Before you arrived, Marta, your Tessa begged me to do a Tarot reading for her. She said she had never seen this done." Luisa regarded her daughter somewhat reproachfully. "Do you never touch the cards these days?"

"Mama, I live in a Catholic household. These things are regarded as heretical, devil-worship. And the Inquisition could be reinstated at any time. I try to be as inconspicuous as possible, to draw no attention to myself. " Marta smiled conspiratorially at her mother. "But I do touch my cards everyday as you taught me."

"That is good. I did a reading for Tessa. At first, I did not want to, but she insisted. You know how she can be." The two women laughed, and Luisa continued, "I am confused by what I saw, but also concerned. Perhaps, you could suggest what it means." Luisa drew in a deep breath. "I saw a woman dressed all in black and I felt fear, danger, and more than that, great sorrow. Does this mean anything to you, Marta?"

Marta shook her head, her eyes clouded with worry. Her mother's readings were always accurate but this vision held no meaning for her. She tried to imagine what her mother saw, and could not. "I cannot say what this portends for Tessa. All I can say is, whenever this vision comes to pass, I will be there with my Tessa, to protect her."

Her mother sighed heavily. "You should have married Paolo, Marta. You would have been a fine mother. As it is..." Luisa left the thought unfinished.

"As it is, Mama, you know why I shall never marry. I have told Paolo that many times. And as for children, Tessa is all the daughter I could ever have wanted. I am satisfied with my life ...as it is." The women returned to watching Tessa uncoiling the bullwhip with total concentration, trying to copy Uncle Tonio's skilful moves. Marta noted with almost maternal pride, how, in less than a year with the gitano, the softness of Tessa's young body had tightened with muscle, as she moved with athletic grace. In her eyes was no longer the sulky wilfulness of the child, but a bolder look, the confidence of a young woman who would face life unflinchingly. Marta exchanged a fond glance at her mother, and said, "Mama, I think Fate has sent us here to learn some lessons."

"What have you learned?" her mother asked.

"That to love is not to control, but to let go, and to trust."

"A hard lesson," her mother replied thoughtfully, "and you must learn it over and over."

The chill rainy winter passed and soon the gitano troupe began to prepare for the road. Marta waited for Tessa to show some sign of wanting to return to Madrid, but she never spoke of it. Tessa seemed to have adopted the gitano as her own people and settled comfortably into their lives. Finally, Marta felt she must raise the issue. When the gitano travelled, they met many dangers and hardships, as Marta remembered with dread in her heart.

"Tessa, when the band gets nearer to Madrid, we must go back home. We have been away too long already."

The girl's face fell with disappointment, and she regarded Marta sulkily. "I don't want that life, Marta. This is the life I want. With people who know how to live. In Madrid, things are stale, dead. I never want to go back to that." Her jaw set stubbornly, with a haughty look Marta knew only too well. It was the look that divided them into mistress and servant, that wounded Marta in her soul. She knew she would give in regardless of her own misgivings. But she had to try to reason with Tessa.

"Tessa, I have been sending letters to your father all this winter, lying to him, telling him how your studies progress. Paolo has taken these letters to be posted in Madrid to go on a ship to California. How can I ever face Don Alvarado again after this? I have betrayed his trust. You are not attending to your lessons... you are playing at being a gitano, something you can never be. When your father finds out, and he will somehow, I will be punished for this, and lose my position. Is that what you want?"

The younger woman looked away, abashed by the hurt expression in Marta's eyes. I am doing it again, she thought reproachfully, what I had vowed to myself I would not do, cause Marta any more anguish. "Even if Papa finds out, you will come to no harm. I promise. I will take the blame. I will protect you, Marta." Tessa embraced her companion warmly and kissed her cheek. "But, please, let me go on the road, for just a little while. Then we will go back to Madrid."

Marta laughed ruefully. "I knew it was useless to persuade you, but I had to try. We will go with my people for a while." Tessa whooped with joy and ran off the help with the breaking up of the camp.

As the miles rolled under the caravan wheels and spring turned to summer, they rode the byways and paths, staying off main thoroughfares, stopping a day or two near small towns and villages. After setting up camp, the gitano entertainers would enter the town and stage their exhibitions to the amazement and delight of the townsfolk. Marta went with the troupe and set up a table for Tarot card reading and consultation on remedies. She forbade Tessa to go with the troupe, fearing she might be recognized.

Early one afternoon, the gitano were entertaining in a small town and a large group of payos had gathered around them. Marta, who was for the moment unoccupied with a client, watched as Lorenzo threw his knives with such amazing skill, the crowd clapped and shouted in awe. She shifted her gaze to Uncle Tonio playing his violin, accompanied by Estrellita on the guitar, as a cluster of children and adults listened, rapt by the beauty of their music. She caught sight of Pico, juggling and laughing as he pretended to nearly drop the objects he was tossing and catching. Nearby, some of the gitano women were selling handmade kerchiefs and other goods. Suddenly, her eye was caught by a familiar figure in the crowd. She was dressed in men's clothing and passing among the audience, holding out a cap to collect coins. Madre de dios, Marta thought in alarm, Tessa!

As she was about to arise to get to the girl, a timid voice in front of her table said, "Gypsy lady, will you tell my fortune?"

Relapsing into her chair, Marta smiled wanly at the young woman, a wisp of a girl tremulously holding out a coin. "Of course, señorita," she replied, trapped for the time being as she tried to concentrate on the Tarot. But her eyes kept glancing toward Tessa who was smiling and joking with the crowd while accepting their donations. All at once, Marta burst out laughing, much to the surprise of her client. If Don Alvarado ever saw her doing this, he would have a seizure, Marta thought. A wealthy Spanish noblewoman begging coins for Gypsies. It is just too funny! Sobering, Marta returned her attention to the young woman, who was shocked by the outburst.

"Gypsy lady, why are you laughing at me?"

"Because I am so overjoyed by the prospects of your future. You will...." Marta droned on, telling the woman what she knew she wanted to hear, and accepting the coin for making her happy, at least for a while.

That evening, Marta was about to take Tessa to task for disobeying her and going into the town, when the drumbeat of hooves reached their ears. The gitano glanced at each other in sudden fear, then ran for their caravans, getting inside quickly. Marta grabbed Tessa's arm and started to drag her toward their caravan. "Come on, Tessa. Get in and lock the door." Terror edged her voice as she pushed Tessa ahead of her.

"What's going on, Marta? Why is everyone hiding?" Tessa pulled back, straining her eyes toward the narrow path that lead into their camp. The hoofbeats were coming closer.

Marta propelled her with a violent shove toward the caravan. "Just do as you're told for once in your life!" she shouted, as looking over her shoulder, she saw a small group of men on horseback ride into the camp. Inside the caravan, Marta exchanged a frightened glance at her mother. Luisa's black eyes held the terror of another night like this and Marta looked away quickly, remembering. Tessa moved to look out through a small hole in the caravan's wooden side. The sounds of men whooping and yelling and things smashing reached her ears, and then she saw them! Three men riding around the camp, trampling and destroying anything they could reach while laughing and encouraging each other. A wild fury possessed her, and before Marta could react, she was out the door, scooping up her sword from the caravan bench, and running into the middle of the riders.

"Bastardos! Cobardes! Vandales" she shouted, waving the sword. Her sudden appearance caused one of the horses to shy, spilling its rider onto the ground with a heavy thud, then a scream of pain. Tessa scarcely gave him a glance as one of the other horsemen, seeing his fallen comrade, turned his horse to charge at her. She stepped beside the injured man and the rider veered away before trampling his friend.

He leapt from his horse with an oath, and seeing the sword in her hand, drew his own. Reeling drunkenly toward her, he swung the sword back and forth, threateningly. "You Gypsy puta," he snarled, trying to keep his feet and focus on her. "What have you done to my friend?"

"The drunken fool fell from his horse. Whatever happened was his own fault." She regarded the young man quizzically. His clothing, though in disarray, was expensive. He was one of her own class. "Who are you and why are you doing this? We have done you no harm."

For an answer, he charged at her, staggering and missing his target, her breast, instead catching a piece of her sleeve, and tearing it. Tessa regarded the rip in confusion. The idiot is trying to kill me! she thought in shock. She swallowed the lump of fear that leapt into her throat, and concentrated on her adversary. He had regained his balance after stumbling past her and was coming at her again with such a look of malevolence, she shuddered. Why does he hate these people? From the corner of her eye, she saw the third rider getting off his horse and pulling his sword. Madre de dios, she thought, two of them! Maestro Torres never showed me this!

Marta had jumped down from the caravan, and was watching, her eyes filled with panic as the men confronted Tessa. From her boot, she pulled a knife and while the men's attention was focussed on Tessa, crept up behind the third intruder who was stalking toward Tessa and his friend. Pressing her knife against his spine, she hissed close to his ear, "Drop your sword and I won't kill you. Take one step toward the girl, and you are dead!"

His face paled and he dropped his sword. Suddenly, he retched, bent over and pitched the contents of his stomach on the ground. Marta gave him a boot on the rump and he fell into the mess. She picked up the sword, turning again to watch Tessa. Both combatants had been observing Marta but now the young man turned back Tessa, angrier than ever, seeing his friend humiliated that way.

"Scum, parasites, thieves," he shouted, swaying, "I will kill you all!"

"First you'll have to catch me," Tessa taunted, dodging his clumsy thrusts, and dancing around him while he staggered dizzily, trying to keep up. At one point, she slapped his rump with the flat of her sword, causing him to swear such oaths that she covered her ears. Finally, tiring of the game, she flipped his sword out of his hand and pressed her blade to his chest. "Take out your purse and empty it on the ground. You will pay for the damages to their property," she commanded, pressing harder when he did not obey immediately. "Leave five coins and take the rest. I would not want you saying you were robbed."

The young man picked up his coins, glaring balefully at her. "You think you have won? Just wait!" he rasped. He bent to retrieve his sword, but Tessa stepped firmly on the blade. "I think not. I have had enough trouble with you for one day. Now, take your friends and go."

"Wait, Tessa," Marta called. "First let me tend to the injured man. I think his arm is broken."

"I would not let a puta like you touch him!" the young man sneered. He bent to his friend whose face was pale with pain and helped him onto his horse. The third man had regained his feet and seemed in a daze as he also found his horse and remounted. The trio rode out of the camp, a more subdued group than had arrived only minutes before.

For a few seconds, everyone seemed frozen as the gitano had come out of the their caravans to watch the action. Suddenly, Uncle Tonio strode to Tessa, a scowl on his face. He snatched her sword and threw it on the ground, saying in a harsh voice, "Do you have any idea what you have done? Not everything can be solved with a sword!" As he turned, abruptly the whole group burst into activity, running to pick up everything and throw it into the caravans.

Marta gestured urgently to Tessa, "Come on, help me hitch the horses. We must go!"

Hurt by Uncle Tonio's words, Tessa stood for a moment, bewildered. Finally, she said, "What is the matter with everyone? What is going on?" Marta ignored her and continued getting the caravan ready for a speedy departure. Tessa picked up some of their things that had been trampled, and thrust them into the caravan, an angry pout on her face. I risked my life to help them and this is how I'm treated, she thought resentfully. Without a word, she climbed onto the bench beside Marta as she whipped up the horses and the caravan lurched into line behind the others. The rattle of the wagons was too loud for talk, and Marta did not seem inclined to speak to her anyway. Tessa slumped on the bench, arms crossed, thinking, it seems nothing I do is ever right. And now, Marta won't even tell me what I've done wrong. A strained silence prevailed between the two woman as the caravan rumbled along the path.

As night fell, they travelled in the dark, stopping only to rest the horses and eat a hasty meal. Keeping to the byways, the caravans rolled swiftly, their path lit only by a dim moonlight. Rafael rode back from scouting behind them, on his lathered horse, his eyes frightened, his breathing laboured. "They are coming!" he rasped. "About an hour behind us."

Uncle Tonio held a quick conference on horseback with some of the men. They cantered back down the trail and he shouted urgently to the others, "Get moving! There is a fork in the road ahead. Take the left." He pointed at Tessa, Pico and a few of the younger folk. "Get off the wagons when we get there and sweep the trail behind the caravans. We must erase our wagon tracks as much as possible."

Tessa's eyes widened in fear. Suddenly it occurred to her what they were running from. An armed mob! And all because of what she had done. Her heart was in her throat as they passed the fork in the road, and she got down to cut some branches to help the others sweeping away all sign of the wagons passing. The men returned quickly, with the news that the mob, about twenty armed men, were gaining faster than they thought.

Rafael said urgently, "Get the wagons off the road and keep everyone quiet. They may pass us in the dark if they can't see or hear us."

Tessa climbed back on the caravan as Marta urged the horses off the trail and into the trees. But she noted, the moonlight would betray them. It was hopeless. They had only eight full-grown men with several youths, none of whom could handle a sword or gun. It would be a slaughter. Marta's memory went back to another night like this, and her chest tightened with terror. No-one would get to Tessa so long as she was alive, she vowed silently.

As the last of the wagons entered the old forest, everything became silent, as they waited tensely alert for the approach of their pursuers. At first, it sounded like distant thunder, then more clearly, the beat of many hooves upon the ground, coming nearer. Tessa held her breath, seeing what the mob must see, all the wagons clearly outlined in the moonlight. Please God, spare them. Don't let them see us. A sudden breeze sprang up, racing clouds obscured the moon, and the forest turned dark and silent except for the thrashing of the trees in the wind. The hoofbeats became a deafening roar as the cavalcade of horsemen rode by, taking the wrong fork in the trail.

For what seemed like hours, the gitano waited, expecting them to return at any moment once they saw they had not caught up. Uncle Tonio passed the word among the wagons they would stay for another few hours, then move on. The weary gitanos climbed inside their caravans to catch what sleep they could.

Later that night, as the wagons began to move again, Rafael rode back down the trail to see if to see if anyone was following. Toward morning, Tessa was taking her turn handling the reins, her eyes burning with fatigue. Marta was inside, sleeping. Uncle Tonio called for another rest stop and the caravan halted. Tessa got down from the bench, grateful to stretch her legs, and for the respite from the noise and dust of the wagons. She smiled at some of the gitano but they turned away. Her spirits plummeted and she felt the prick of tears behind her eyes. Marta climbed out into the early dawn, her face haggard from fatigue and worry.

Hesitantly, Tessa went to her, and asked, "Marta, what can I do? They all hate me now. I was only trying to help. No-one else was doing anything to stop them. Those cowards were destroying our camp."

"You think we are cowards too, don't you? You think we hide from fear? No, we try to avoid trouble and keep ourselves from harm. For centuries, my people have been persecuted, slaughtered, enslaved. We have learned to keep to ourselves, run from trouble, and we have survived. That is our way. Why is everyone angry with you? Because you have put all our lives in danger. Those men raised a mob to come after us for what you did to them. It has happened many times before. This time we were lucky."

"Surely, the law..."

Marta snorted derisively, "Fah, there is one law for payos, and another law for gitanos. If they do something to us, there is no punishment. If we are accused of something, a terrible retribution follows."

"I don't understand this. Why did those men want to destroy the camp? We did nothing to them."

"It is prejudice, Tessa. We are despised because we are different. The payos come to us for help, to cure their ills, to train their horses. But if anything bad happens, we are suspected, and driven out. It has alway been this way."

"But, Marta," Tessa asked, her young eyes focussed on Marta, trying to get to grips with this new concept of prejudice, "if you fight back, will they not leave you alone? Surely, you cannot give in to injustice and do nothing."

"What do you know of our ways, our history? You are a payo!" Marta snapped, fatigue making her sharp with her ward.

Tessa went rigid, her face clouded, in her eyes a hurt expression. "You called me a payo!" she accused harshly. "Is this not also prejudice?"

Marta heaved a tired sigh, then glancing at Tessa, smiled wanly. "I suppose it is. I am sorry." She gathered Tessa into a warm embrace and said again, "I'm sorry."

Later that day, the caravans rolled to a halt, as Uncle Tonio said loudly, "We will camp here for the night. Rafael has seen no-one pursuing us. We are safe now." The little troupe ringed their wagons in a small circle and began to set up a temporary camp. Still no-one spoke to Tessa. She was ostracized, in an agony of self-recrimination. She tried to help setting up one of the tents.

Finally, she threw down the tent peg and mallet, her chest heaving in agitation. In a loud voice, she said, "I'm sorry." The activity continued as if she hadn't spoken.

Marta, seeing her anguish, started toward her, but Rafael restrained her. "She must face this alone," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," she said again, louder, her voice tremulous with tears. "I didn't know what would happen. I was trying to help, to stop them from destroying your camp." Trying to gain control, she added in a harsh whisper, "Please forgive me."

All faces turned toward Tessa, standing alone in the centre of the camp, then Uncle Tonio broke from the group and strode toward her. She looked down, tears falling unheeded as she waited. He took her into a fierce embrace, and she wept on his shoulder. "There, now," he said softly. "Everything has turned out all right." He hugged her again, then held her at arm's length, exclaiming loudly, "And we are so proud of your bravery, Tessa. But," he looked sternly into her reddened eyes, "You must promise never to risk your life to save us again."

Tessa opened her mouth to speak, hesitated for a second, then said, "I don't think I can make such a promise, Uncle Tonio."

He threw his head back and laughed in his strange bark. "What a woman!" he shouted. "Well, at least promise you will think twice before doing such a foolish thing again."

She smiled wanly at him. "Yes, I can certainly make that promise."

Gitano camp, early fall - 1812

"Watch this, Marta," Tessa called as her companion walked toward her. Tessa uncoiled the bullwhip, let it snake along the ground, then with a flip of her wrist, wrapped it around Marta's waist, playfully giving it a tug toward her. "I have improved greatly in this. Uncle Tonio says I could be as good as he is with more practice." Noticing Marta's solemn expression, she asked, "What is wrong, Marta?"

"Paolo just returned from Madrid with some letters for us. I have already read mine. Your father is coming back to Spain. He could arrive any day. This letter says he would be taking ship as soon as the harvest is finished. This is late October so that would have been a few weeks ago." She handed Tessa a package of letters tied with a ribbon. "You know what this means, Tessa? We must get back to Madrid before he arrives."

"Of course, I am glad that Papa is coming back, but..." she said, her voice trailing off, as she glanced around the camp, bustling with activity and colour. She expelled a long breath, shrugging resignedly, and adding, "I suppose this had to end sometime."

"We will go tomorrow so we can get everything back to normal before he arrives." Marta left Tessa flipping the bullwhip disconsolately as she gazed into nothingness. News of their departure was greeted with sadness. It was decided to have a fiesta on this, their last night with the gitano. The rest of the day preparations went on for the feast.

As evening fell, the meal was eaten, and one by one, each of the gitano came to bid farewell to the two women. Later, Uncle Tonio got out his violin and Estrellita her guitar. The sombre mood of the camp lightened, as the unrestrained joy of flamenco infected them all. All but Pico, whose stricken eyes followed Tessa everywhere as she went from group to group, chatting animatedly. Shyly, he asked her to dance with him, and in spite of his heartache, as they danced, he too began to smile, then to laugh with the pure joy of life.

The music finally died away, and the gitano went to their beds. Tessa remained outside, leaning against their caravan, her heart too full for words, as she gazed around the now-quiet camp. She wanted to drink it all in, to remember everything. For nearly a year, she had lived as they lived, shared everything with them and they with her. There had been marriages, a birth, many fiestas, she recalled with a quiet smile, much dancing and flamenco. And she had learned so much from them. Whatever my life will become, she thought, it will never compare to this.

"Tessa," Marta whispered, "Come in now. We must make an early start."

Rafael tied the last items to the saddle, and looked around at Tessa and Marta. It was early, the sun barely up, and the birds just beginning to chirp in the trees around the camp. A solemn group had assembled, awaiting their departure. Tessa kept clenching her jaw, trying not give way to the tears that threatened to spill. This is like leaving your family, she thought, a big wonderful family. She glanced at Marta, and reminded herself that Marta must be feeling much more. They are her family, and if we go to California, she will probably never see them again.

Uncle Tonio embraced Marta with tears in his eyes. "We had you with us again for a while, Marta," he said, "and we are grateful. And you brought us Tessa whom we have also learned to love." Clearing his throat, he enfolded Tessa warmly, and said, "I have no daughter of my own, Tessa. And as you already have a father, I adopt you as my niece. From now on, you are gitano." Wiping his eyes, he added, "I have something for you, Tessa. Something I made specially for you." He signalled to Pico who came forward with something hidden behind his back. Pico handed Tessa a package wrapped in a bright cloth.

Through a mist of tears, she accepted the gift. It was almost square and quite heavy, and as she unwrapped the cloth, a leather pouch was revealed to her eyes. It was beautifully worked with intricate designs and colours. Tessa had often watched Uncle Tonio working with leather. He was a master craftsman, and his work sought wherever they went.

"Thank you, Uncle Tonio," she said, "I have never had anything so fine. It is beautiful."

He laughed softly, "You have not seen all of it! Look inside." She reached into the pouch, her fingers encountering the handle of something. Excitedly, she pulled it out, uncoiling a bullwhip. "You have such a talent for this, I wanted you to have one of your own. Though," he chuckled, "I don't know where you would ever get the chance to use it."

Impulsively, she hugged him tightly. "Gracias, Uncle Tonio." Tessa turned to the gitano gathered for this farewell, looking into each face, wanting to remember everyone. "Thank you all for everything. I have learned so much from you. Some hard things." She smiled self-deprecatingly, and there were a few chuckles from the group. "I will never forget your kindness. You have been like a family to me." Her voice trembled and Tessa could not go on. She mounted her horse quickly, and with a wave, said, "Adios." She kneed the horse into a gallop, and was soon gone from their sight.

Rafael sped after her, leaving Marta who had not yet mounted her horse. Marta embraced her mother, her throat so tight she could hardly speak. Somehow she knew this would be the last time she would ever see her. It made the parting more difficult, and she was reluctant to leave. "Adios, Mama," she said finally. "Do not worry about me. I have a good life and want nothing else. I will always be thinking of you."

Luisa replied, "And I will pray for you, my daughter." The old woman added, with a slight smile, "Never forget who you are, Marta, wherever you go. You are gitano." Embracing her daughter fervently one last time, Luisa hurried to her caravan.

Marta watched her go, then turned to Uncle Tonio who pulled her into his arms. He whispered in her ear, "I will look after your mama. Vaya con dios, Marta."

With a heavy heart, Marta took a long look at the camp, and her people, impressing the scene on her mind. "Thank you all for being so good to my Tessa," she said softly. "You have made me very proud of my people."

Marta caught up with Tessa and Rafael only a short distance down the trail. Miles passed, and the small group kept an introspective silence. No-one seemed in the mood for conversation, each occupied with their own thoughts. Rafael rode ahead, leaving the two women riding side by side along the narrow path. It was a fine fall day, a good day for travelling, the sun just coming up and warming the chill of the early morning.

Finally, Tessa broke the silence with, "About the fencing lessons, Marta...."

Marta laughed shortly. "I have already forgiven you for that deception, Tessa. It now seems a very small thing compared to what we have been doing this past year."

"I am glad you have forgiven me, but..." Tessa hesitated, then added, "That is not what I was going to ask you. May I continue with the lessons?"

"And if I say no."

Tessa looked away quickly. "I hope you will not."

Marta regarded her ward closely, the raised chin and the rigid set of her shoulders. She is determined no matter what I say, she thought with slight rancour. She recalled the vision that her mother had told her of Tessa's future. Perhaps, she may need this skill someday. "You may continue the fencing lessons, Tessa, but not while your father is with us. He must never know about this year, and what you have been doing. I fear he will send you to live with your Tia Damona if he ever finds out."

The younger woman shivered, replying, "A fate worse than death! I will take this secret to my grave, Marta," she laughed. Sobering abruptly, Tessa glanced at her companion, and drawing in a deep breath, said quietly, "After Papa left me to go to California, I was very angry and resentful. I know I made everyone's life miserable because mine was. I treated you very badly, Marta, and you didn't deserve it. You have been as good as a mother to me all these years" Pausing to get control of her voice, she added, "Can you ever forgive me?"

For an answer, Marta reached across her horse, taking Tessa's hand. "All is forgiven, and forgotten, Tessa. We are making a new start." She laughed suddenly, and said, "My Uncle Tonio adopted you as his niece. What does that make us...cousins?" The two women laughed companionably, and kneed their horses into a trot, taking them closer to Madrid, and their entwined destinies.

The End

©Maril Swan - Gitano - November 2000