A Gypsy Song (The Eye of the Crystal Ball - The Wolfboy Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Moeselman asked the men of the tribe to stand guard around their camp.
    “These Spanish forests are filled with thieves and bandits only waiting for us to go to sleep so they can steal all our possessions,” he said when Sara asked what he was scared of.
    “I am not scared, Moeselman is never scared, but I am prepared,” he yelled. “Everybody should watch out for these Spanish thieves, don’t ever trust them,” he said while putting a fist in the air. “I once had a golden medallion that I had gotten from my dead mother and they had the nerve to come into my caravan while I was sleeping and steal it from around my neck in the middle of the night.”
    Moeselman spat at the dusty ground where it hadn’t rained in weeks.
    “They are nothing but cowards and dishonest fools. You all better be aware of these people, or they will steal your souls.” He continued his roaring while the women of the tribe shivered with fear.
    If there was one thing a Romani was afraid of it was to lose their soul.
    So they searched the forest and found no one else nearby. They did discover another camp, though, in the valley on the other side of the river.
    “They are Gitano, Spanish Romani,” one of the men that had been sent out to scout said.
    Moeselman snorted and spat at the ground again.
    “Just as I had expected. That scum. We need to get rid of them so they won’t come near the marketplace tomorrow.”
    Moeselman spat at the dusty ground again.
    “What if we spread a rumor?” one of the belly dancers suggested.
    “We could tell the village people that they are cursed with a bad spirit and that they would bring bad luck to the town if they let them in,” an elderly woman said.
    “Or maybe we could put a bad spell on them,” another woman said while holding her newborn baby in her arms. “A spell of bad luck.”
    Moeselman was thinking. Sara knew that immediately because he always rubbed his beard when he was thinking.
    “Since we don’t put bad spells on people that haven’t actually done anything to us, we will spread the rumor. It wouldn’t even be a lie, since these people do mean bad luck to have around,” he said.
    Sara couldn’t believe what she had just heard. She got up and confronted Moeselman. She poked him in his big fat belly and stood with anger in front of him.
    “That’s not nice,” she said. “Aren’t they Romani just like we are? Shouldn’t we be helping each other instead?”
    Everybody in the crowd that had gathered around the bonfire was silent and awaited the big Moeselman’s answer. No one would ever dare to talk to him while he was in his angry mood (Before Sara came to the tribe, that is.) And especially not like that.
    Even the strong man Gabriel stepped a little back in order not to be in the line of fire. Moeselman snorted again and grumbled to himself. His face was red when he looked at Sara, and people would later say that they were certain he had smoke coming out of his ears. But much to everyone’s surprise he did not burst into one of his explosive tantrums like he used to. Instead he shook his head, turned his back to Sara and left.
    Settela, Sara’s mother, put her arm around her shoulders.
     “They are nothing like us. They are dishonest, they steal, they cheat, they are the ones giving the Romani people a bad reputation,” she took over and explained to her while Moeselman, mumbling and grumbling, went back to his caravan.
    You see, Moeselman could never be really mad at Sara, for he loved her too much. Just the mere sight of her would make his heart pound with love. And he couldn’t have anyone knowing that her feisty temper reminded him of himself so much that he had to laugh out loud as soon as he was alone in the caravan.
     
    That evening after dinner Sara left the camp area without anyone noticing it. They were all way too busy eating Spanish food and drinking the Spanish wine and singing and dancing to see her wander off.
    Why did she do it? Because she was