her amulet, comforted by the Romani belief, âAfter bad luck comes good luck!â
Gazing up into the almost perfectly round face of the moon she prayed to Shon, the female spirit of the moon. In the beginning of the world Kam the Sun was a great Gypsy king. Each day he pursued his beautiful sister Shon in the sky. But before he rose each morning she managed to slip over the horizon to avoid an incestuous relationship. When he finally caught her, she fought him so hard it caused darkness to spread across the earth. During this first eclipse Shon was seduced. Their union gave birth to the Romani people.
On the heels of her own prayers Keziah tacked on the Christian Lordâs Prayer in the Romani language for good measure. âMoro Dad â¦â When she reached the Amen, â Avali. Tachipen â, she assured herself that should keep both the Romani and gaujo gods happy. You couldnât be too careful.
Sleep was slow in coming. She was drawn back to her first vivid memory from when she was four years old.
Their Romani camp lay in darkness pierced by clusters of tribal fires at the heart of each family. Her father, Gabriel, himself still a boy, was the handsomest man in the whole world. His dark eyes were lost in the magic he created with his violin. His love song seduced her beautiful young mother who sprang to her feet, her yellow hair flying like gossamer. She beckoned Keziah to join her and they danced together. Keziah was enchanted by her motherâs violet-blue eyes â a mirror image of her own.
Keziah shrank from her next memory. The day Gabriel brought home a hotchiwitchi , a wild hedgehog that was a delicacy for the cookingpot. It was his right under Romani law to live off the land, but under gaujo law the magistrate ruled the hedgehog was on the edge of the farmerâs property and pronounced him âGuiltyâ. Gaol was a badge of honour to her people. However, within months her mother broke the worst Romani taboo â she betrayed her man while he served time in the sturaban.
Gabriel had returned from gaol a broken man. Keziah remembered seeing him sharpening a knife on the wheel he used to repair the villagersâ scissors and knives. He slashed the tattoo on his arm, until his blood covered her name â Stella.
He never spoke her name again.
As Keziah finally surrendered to sleep she was haunted by her child-motherâs face smiling at her, even when Keziah cursed her. The Devil be in your bowels!
â¢Â â¢Â â¢
The first thing Keziah saw on waking were the fetlocks of a chestnut gelding on the far side of the hedge. The rider was screened from her sight except for his mud-covered riding boots.
âWell, what have we here? A pretty little urchin. Lost your way have you, lass?â
Keziah sprang to her feet. The rider was a cocksure youth dressed in a torn, muddy riding habit of fine quality. His high forehead and short hair reminded her of a Roman Caesar on an ancient coin. He had a sensual mouth in a dirty and bruised face.
She answered firmly. âThank you, no! I know exactly where I am going. Liverpool. A ship bound for Botany Bay.â
âYouâve many miles ahead of you, little one. Ride behind me to speed your journey.â
âThank you but I prefer to walk.â She shook the twigs from her skirt, turned her back on him and stepped out at a brisk pace.
The rider dismounted and led his horse at walking pace a few feet behind her.
âI can take you as far as my masterâs house. The housekeeper will give you a good meal to see you on your way.â
Keziah felt her cheeks burn. Romani pride was quite beyond gaujo comprehension.
âYou mean it kindly, Sir, but I am no pauper in need of charity. I pay my way.â
âOf course. I can recognise a lady when I see one,â the rider said politely. âWould you mind if I walk a little way with you? I am in need of a few kind words before I face my masterâs