The Last Safe Gatherings

Prompt: A woman has a gun for home defense, but later she can’t find it........

Margerinas dark eyes tore around the small caravan space. It had been there this morning and seemed inconceivable that anyone in camp might have stolen it. She hadn’t even wanted to put the thought into that action. She shivered.. She sat on the floor, leaned her head against the door frame and looked up at the stars, wondering how she was going to tell Benno his prototype was missing.

Victor waved at her, mug in hand as he saunted towards the Celebration tents. “Margerina, have you heard? A huge week long celebrations are to be held on the Castle grounds of the Marquis De Lume. They are auditioning for the finest acts to entertain the gentry.”

“I am sure that will interest a great many gathered here, though I doubt the nobility would be interested in my talents.”

“Come on Margerina, the inquisition have long since died out. People are more open in their beliefs and the catholic churches teachings.”

“Who hosts a winter celebration in Italy??

“It’s a funeral for their dearly departed father tragically lost these past two years in the new world.”

“From your tone I am guessing you are planning to audition?”

“Right you are. I’m gathering a few from our tribe for rehearsals on a new routine. With Lica gone, we need to work around what we have. Though in saying that, we have a few new talents beginning to shine. We will have to see how they go tomorrow.”

“I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

Victor took a slurp of his foaming mug. “ We live the life, we take the risks. She out of all of us knew that.”

Margerina stood and smiled at the huge man affectionately. “I wish you luck at the auditions, though I seem to know you are not going to need it.”

“Coming from you Margerina, I take that as a huge boost and an indication we stand a very good chance of performing in front of nobility at the Castle.”

“The future is always in flux Victor, unless you put in the rehearsal time and the effort, you will not achieve your goal.”

“Will I see you over at the tents tonight or perhaps later?” Victor watched her form hungrily.

“Perhaps, though I have some business to attend to, so I can’t promise anything.” She gave him one of her lingering smiles and began to walk away.

Crouching over the weak light of the candles in his caravan Benno was making alterations to intricate drawings on the table in front of him when Margerina found him. He pushed his bone rimmed looking eye glasses further up his nose, setting them to a more stable balancing position and peered up at her . The quartz lenses gave a little more magnification to his failing eyesight, but he didn’t need to rely on this to know she was upset. Her usual musky lavender aroma which embraced her curvatious body had been replaced by the stinging scent of fear.

“Its gone Benno.”

Her tight tone informed him it was not time for flirtation or jokes.

“What stranger has come into the camp of the Rromani and stolen this away, stolen it from me? ” Free spirits they were and despite their reputation, not one of them were thieves.

“No-one would knowing steal even a seed from you Margerina, not if they valued their life. Don’t worry, who ever has it, its not really ready to use. It doesn’t actually work – it was just a dummy – a model for the real thing.” He was oblivious to her enraged face as he continued, “ Look – I’ve found another problem with the firing mechanism – but think if I add this here,” as he pointed to his sketch, “it will be even more reliable.”

His new invention replaced the wheel lock guns and their ineffectual wicks. German gunsmiths had scoffed at his ideas and he had been forced to take his sketches and manufacture his prototypes elsewhere.

“This new mechanism works by attaching the flint to a spring-loaded arm. When the trigger is pressed, the cover slides off the flash pan, then the arm snaps forward striking the flint against a metal plate over the flash pan and hopefully produces enough sparks to ignite the powder. Its much simpler and less expensive than the Wheel Lock.” He looked up at her excitedly.

Margerina stifled a yawn as her head swum with the technical terminology. “What are we going to do?”

Benno sat back on the wooden chair. “ Nothing. Whoever took it will want to use it or test it out soon – but they need to get gunpowder and shot to use in it. We need to thank the great goddess that it is not you trying it out as I am certain the barrel will distort or explode. We will hear it – don’t worry.”

“You hadn’t tested it before you gave it to me?”

He smiled up at her.

“You were rather persuasive last night – how could I refuse you in the position I was.”

Margerina flushed with defiance, rather than embarrassment.

I need to protect myself. Once we have dispersed from The Gathering, I have no manfolk to look after my caravan and animals. We Rromani are in danger, especially when traveling alone.”

Benno put his hand on hers. “I’ve offered you a place with me every Gathering. You are a willful woman, Margerina.”

“So we just wait, ignore the fact someone stole from me - Margerina?”

He nodded, completely missing her tone. “I have the components for at least another four rifles here. Now I have designed the last modification, they will be perfect. That one won’t last very long before it blows up in the operators face or he discards it as he realizes that it is useless.”

Bennos V shaped glasses had slipped down his nose again. Margerina snatched them from his face in a fluid motion and angrily waved that at him.

“I would have gone to you tomorrow morning and taken it back from you. I would never have let you load it up or use it my sweet.”

Despite Benno having lived amongst the Rromani for years, he lapsed into his old Germanic manners and forgot some of the cultural differences, especially with the place of women. He put his arms out toward Margerina. “I can finish up here if you’d like to distract me.”

She glared at him again and threw his looking eye glasses at him before storming away toward her caravan.

She slowed down after stalking away for a dozen steps. The fires around the Celebration tent flickered mightily. She could smell the tantalizing aroma of the cooked meats intermingling with the sickly sweet Gluwien bubbling in various pots around the dancers. A cold wind sent its icy fingers down her back. In Gatherings gone past, it would have been she who lingered last in the Celebration tents; liaising with her past loves and flashing her dark eyes at newcomers. A grave sense of foreboding had gripped her most of this year past and her paranoia and eagerness to gain security heightened with every report of Rromani dragged away by the antiquated but lethally strong inquisition.

A solitary figure sat by one of the outer fires and she felt the need to wander past and engage in conversation.

“Gitano isn’t it?” as she approached the broad back.

He turned, a dark hair of curls accentuated the long lashes framing intelligent eyes as he looked her squarely in the face.

She put her hands on her hips as she thrust one slightly forward. “Manhood suits you.”

An awkward pause followed so she continued. “Why aren’t you at the celebration tents and choosing a name from the jar? I am sure there will be many young ladies very disappointed you are not there.”

“I could ask you the same Margerina.”

“Mind if I join you?” without waiting for an answer she sat opposite him in the dirt. “Its the last night before everyone disperses for another year. We should both bid our farewells.”

Gitano continued to break his stick and throw it into the fire.

“Are you afraid of me Gitano?”

“Everyone is afraid of you Margerina. You have the sight.”

She picked up a twig and twirled it in her hand absentmindedly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not afraid of you Margerina, but I fear what messages you may carry.”

“Give me your hand, allow me access to your path.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to hear any of that. I need to find out about my past before I can think about my future.”

“Such sadness and loneliness in one so young “ she stood and brushed the dirt from her skirts..” I am going to watch the Dancers. I hope you decide to join me.” She laid a casual hand on his shoulder but immediately jerked it away as if burnt. Her eyes widened as she stared into the darkness. She quickly composed her state to a dispassionate gaze.

“What did you see Margerina?” Gitano genuinely looked concerned as his eyes darted about the surroundings.

Her eyes had glazed over and she stared back at him. “The brothers come for you , they come for him, only the enemy of the father can save you both. Only death lies ahead for our kind. We must all travel alone or be hunted down.”

Gitano stood and put his arm round her shoulders. “You need to speak with Nelu about this. As head Matriarch of the Tribe, she will be able to decipher this message.”

Together they marched off toward the Celebration Tents in search of the tribe council members.


Authors Note: This comes from a continuing storyline research for "The Rromani" and forms part of a new parallel storyline to The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan - where from time to time characters may wander in and out of each others stories.

No Satisfaction

Musical Musings #13:

Story inspired by listening to

(Can't get no) Satisfaction

The Rolling Stones

For those following the weekly updates on Captain Juan, this will be added in within the next few weeks - with some editing.... I am exploring Dantes character and drive for what he is about to launch into and the Musical Musings seemed to fit perfectly..... for all others - please subscribe to a message in a bottle and join us in a ripping yarn about The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan - a story being co-written before your eyes by Paul , Jodi and myself.

Sweat and tears streaked the young mans face. Confused, terrified and pushed to his limit of pain, his once fine clothes were in tatters, sodden with urine and fear. His left arm was stretched out and tied to a solid wooden table; his body heavily bound to the wooden chair. His fingers delicately fanned out and secured by iron skewers, driven precisely into each knuckle and then firmly into the table top.

A canvas roll of iron and wooden oddments lay neatly to one side each piece carefully cleansed before being tucked away for future use. His eyes bulged as he could only imagine what pain the remaining implement might bring.

A tall muscled back faced him, the figure kneeling in prayer.

“Please, I’ll tell you everything. Whatever you need to know I’ll tell you’ Victor whined piteously.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Replied the figure; the first time he had spoken in over twelve hours.

“Please who are you why are you doing this?” Sobbed Victor, his face etched in excruciating never ending pain. “ My father is a noble in the Royal Court. He will give you anything if you just let me go.”

Silence grew heavily, weighed down by the horror in the room.

The muscled back shone in the flickering torchlight like well oiled basalt. Unmoving, a low chant emitting raising and lowering with prayer.

Victor began to scream; the noise unnerving him, the pain was beyond anything he had every experienced; his terror and confusion blinding his consciousness.

The light was disturbed for a moment and a slight wooden scraping noise came from the side wall. Dante athletically flicked himself from kneeling to standing within a heartbeat. Noiselessly, he left the room; pushing the heavy iron lock sidewards to open wooden door. Victor had not noticed his exit and continued screaming hysterically.

Dantes’ head inclined slightly as he lowered his eyes momentarily. “My Lord?”

An obese sweaty noble patted his flushed face and wrung out the expensive silk cloth nervously.

“How long will this....” he gestured pathetically, “going to take?”

A humorless smile met Dantes lips,” My Lord, you requested little blood and maximum pain and terror. I can keep him at this point for weeks. I doubt his sanity will last more than a few hours though.”

Lord Toress hyperventilated “ I thought I wanted to watch it all, see him suffer every moment. Your methods are very.. ..exact.” He struggled to meet Dantes eyes as his hands nervously fluttered about.

“My Lord, why don’t you avail yourself to the kitchen finest offerings. I will order my manservant to fetch you some sweet wine. Once your stomach has settled then you might like to watch further developments.”

Toress’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Yes. Yes, a short break will strengthen my nerves. Ermmm… Carry on.”

Dante inclined his head slightly and spun on his heal, entering his sanctuary again.

He breathed deeply, seeking contact and approval from his God. He ceremoniously oiled his naked torso, chanting in prayer, cleansing his body from the momentary contact with the unclean outside.

His normally focused mind wandered, picturing the beautiful face of Ruby, her features striking as they contorted in the pain he had served her. A low guttural growl erupted from the depths of his body. Not since she had been stolen away from him thus ending his perfect reputation, had he experienced the thrill and exhilaration he normally experienced from his assignments. The beauty he found in his clients deaths was now meaningless. Despite acknowledging that he was still on his holy mission and cleansing the masses of wickedness; he now felt hollow and unfulfilled.

He drew a long metal skewer from his roll and inserted it into Victors wrist, just between the cartilage bones. Through a practiced touch, he kept thrusting it up into his arm to separate the ulna and radius, careful not to go too close to the artery. Victors screams hit a higher pitch as every pain receptor blew off the scale. The tiniest movement reset the throbbing with even his trembling pitching pain further through his body.

This used to be one of Dantes favoured moves, bringing him closer to God and to redemption, and now it brought him no satisfaction.

Growling again and cursing Ruby and that Captain of hers, he knelt swearing to God he would seek their painful long deaths to his last breath.

Do we have an accord Captain?

Write about a failed proposal.......

For those following the weekly updates on Captain Juan, this is the next installment... for all others - please subscribe to a message in a bottle and join us in a ripping yarn about The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan - a story being co-written before your eyes by Paul , Jodi and myself.


Dante eyes glittered in reflection of the fires still burning in the warehouse along the docks. Thick acrid smoke still permeated the air, but seemed to part as Dante strode through it. His eyes darted into every corner searching for further clues.

He had easily found the foolish Genoese ‘merchants’ laying in pools of their own blood and gore at the church. Having realized that his prey had made their escape long ago, he chose to commune with his God for further guidance. Amidst the cannon fire and screams at the docks, he’d spent an hour prostrate at the alter gaining strength and regaining his inner calmness. A low guttural growl in his throat emerged as a prayer, a promise, a purpose as he rose, crossing himself before turning swiftly on his heel and leaving the inner sanctum of the church.

Standing on the dock overlooking the battered remains of the yet to be completed Castillo de San Antón, Dante suddenly clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Lord” he prayed, “Unless you gift me the power of wings, I cannot follow him in these winds – the ship is the fastest in Spain and only Satan knows where he is headed. Grant me a path in which I may continue the purging of evil in this land and rid it of that Captain.”
A bowswains sharp whistle roused him from his appeal to his God. An English Ship had entered the harbour and appeared to be flying a treaty flag. Despite the chaos surrounding him, soldiers shouting, sailors swearing as they were dragged from docked ships and the morning chorus of howling dogs, Dante surrounded himself with peace and calmness and the absolute focus which made him the most feared and respected in his trade.
He watched at a longboat drew up and landed. With practiced ease he stepped into a doorway and watched as an athletic young man of signatory disembarked was lead away to a waiting carriage. The clouds parted for a spit second and the sun shone brightly , highlighting the blond hair of the departing captain.

Dante bowed his head slightly in recognition of his sign from God and followed the detachment to the Ambassadors residence. Dante decided there was little use in attempting to approach or follow him into the secure area so secured several hot loaves of bread from the markets and chewed on on a peice thoughtfully. Purchasing some cheese as well, he languidly made his way back to the docks to awaited for the emergence of the young Captain. Having subsisted on dry ration biscuit, the warm smell of fresh bread made the young cabin boys mouth water as he sat bored waiting at the longboat for the arrival of the Captain. He was more than happy to share his exciting adventure with the kind priest who appeared beside him. Matthews mother would have been proud of her son as he bowed his head and gave confession on the docks.
The clattering of hooves heralded the arrival of the English crew. The Blond nobleman alighted from his seat with a scrowl still etched on his face.
“Captain Blakeshaw, I believe we might be of service to each other.” Dante approached him bowing slightly.
The Captain sensed the danger and the hunter species within this dark tall figure. He recognized the bloodshed in his eyes and involuntarily shivered.

“What the devil are you talking about? Who are you?” He countered raising himself to his full height in front of Dante.

Dantes thick English accent, betrayed his Italian origin, but noted him of a man of learning. Blakeshaw hesitated, curious at this turn of events.

Dantes head inclined slightly “I am a simple God fearing loyal subject of the crown”. He continued smoothly “I am afraid that many of the inns have been damaged or looted in this madness, however, you would find a great benefit if we broke bread together and spoke of important matters. Please invite your men to join us at the nearby church. They can offer us a quiet place to speak. There are too many open ears in this public place.”

Blakeshaw signaled the carriage and they pulled themselves into the seats. Sharp silence sliced the air as they rode in the carriage together, each man staring the other in undisguised mistrust.

One gesture from Dante had the monks scurrying to tidy a prayer room when they arrived. Dante wasted no time as he handed the captain slices of bread and cheese. “You are hunting Juan. Both the public and private price on his head has increased considerably since you were in court. I also am committed to bringing justice to that pirate. I have at my disposal letters of mark from the church and from Royalty to allow me passage through any “unpleasantries”. You have a ship and I need to follow him - do we have an accord?

Blakeshaw stumbled. His logic told him that Dantes words rang true and that a powerful ally as he would get him into places that he would not ordinarily be able to go. He was astounded at the ease in which Dante had culminated events and secrets that even he had only been privy to recently. He was curious to who Dante was , or who he knew; but was very wary of the preditor.

Despite all doors closed, a cool rush flowed through the room, perfuming the area; as if a noblewoman had walked past. Dante growled and crossed himself, his eyes darting to each corner. That presence was back and had not been blocked by the sanctity of the grounds they stood upon.

Blackeshaw stood, unaware of any of this. “I am sorry Sir, your offer is very compelling. However we must press on with my Kings orders and am not allowed to carry passengers or foreigners upon our ship. I wish you well in your search.”

Dante gripped his arm and stared into his eyes. “Hes a marked man Captain. One of us will find him, He would do well to pray that it will be you and the hangmans noose and not me first. But the Lord is the only one who can judge his soul.”

Dante disappeared into the shadows of the church, leaving Blakeshaw and his men puzzled and speechless.

The Ruse

A shrouded figure stood in the shadows, watching Ruby enter the seedy tavern. He crossed confident that she had found who she was looking for and would not suspect she had been followed. A few gold coins passed wordlessly to the tavern keeper who nodded, and Dante took a seat in the corner to wait.

After what seemed like hours of wait, Dante finally had the tavern keeper personally serve the cup of mulled wine to him, three fingers visible on the outside. Dante slipped upstairs, following the stranger who had entered minutes before. He crouched at the door of the third room on the landing. He stood listening to her emotional pleas. The male voice was commanding, chilling and powerful. Despite his profession, Dante was glad this assignment did not directly involve having to face this man. Having heard all he needed, his silent feet carried him off to a more reputable establishment.

“My Lord.” Dante bowed his head slightly at Marcus who slouched in a corner booth. Another thickset man sat in the shadows. Marcus’s stare penetrated Dante's usual icy demeanor. Another chill went down Dante's spine. Tonight had brought out the devils own. He crossed himself unconsciously and clutched at his crucifix before continuing.

“It is as you suspected,” Dante murmured. “She sails with him within the week to Corunna”

“Damned woman,” Marcus growled. “Get your best man to follow her and join the crew.”

“As you wish my Lord” Dante meekly replied, his eyes cast down. He had no wish to exchange looks with either of these gentlemen. “When would you like her dispatched?”

“Not yet. Just send me information via the usual networks. Oh and Dante. Refrain from using my title. Remember who I am.” Marcus replied and with a flick of his pure white hand a small pouch of gold appeared beside Dante, who was only too pleased to escape.

"Why didn’t you just take that silly girl as a mistress? After her poor parents so tragically passed away, you already owned their entire fortune. There was no reason to marry her,” the shadowed figure sneered.

“My dear Earl Fedele, just because your entire family lacks any moral fibre or decency, does not mean that others do not have that sensibility.” Marcus hissed. “May I remind you that your dear cousin has just sold the Kings favoured into piracy”

“Don’t lecture me on decency, brother,” Fedele spat. “Just recall who gave you aid when you were forced to flee Rome after your …. indiscretions.”

“You flaunt our relationship easily when you wish to mock me. Our father never recognized me. I am now forced to live the life of an impoverished tailor,” Marcus venomously replied.

“Your cry poor - when you have a villa in Sorrento, your gentlemen’s outfitters in every fashionable city in Italy and your expansive home here not enough?” Fedele retorted. “Bide your time brother. Our rightful place in the kingdom will take place. Best not be distracted by this slip of a girl. Strip her and get her body dumped in the harbour. No-one will take any notice of another whores death. Focus on our goal, forget this foolish captain. He means nothing to the plan.”

Marcus’s eyes met Fedele's and softened. “You were always the wise one. Let us forget our childish quarrels. However, you have missed an important factor. The maps were embedded on my intaglio. Ruby stupidly believed that without them, my fashions would be stopped and for some reason I would be ruined. We need to get those patterns back – without them our plan is for nothing.”

Fedele's lithe, perfectly manicured fingernails rapped the thick wooden table. With a finger he summoned a neighbouring merchant. He lent over and whispered “You have heard all?” The intelligent eyes of a soldier squinted in agreement. “Ensure you have four of your best enlist with this captain. Find where Ruby has smuggled the intaglio and replace them with near copies. Marcus will have these ready for the swap tomorrow.”

This forms part of an ongoing series of Captains Juans adventures - first appearing on Pauls' blogs. However the good captain has travel lust and forged his way to mine then to Jodis' and thus earned his own website:

The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan

Intaglio

Without looking it up, use the word Intaglio in your Fiction Friday .

Marcus brushed the bolt of velvet down.

“This is filthy” he haughtily complained to the merchant. “did you drag all the way here through the lower kingdom?”

“Humph” Gruffly responded hunched figure. “Take it or leave it – it’s the last full bolt I have. With winter closing in we won’t be traveling until mid spring.” The merchant shrewdly looked up at Marcus, squinting with his good eye. “ I have other clients who’d be glad to take this from my hands.”

With the new fashion influences of slashing from Germany and the Winter Balls looming, Marcus knew he would need as much broadcloth as the shop could store.

With a wave of his hand , Marcus agreed to the merchants exorbitant prices and signaled his clerk to draw up the invoice for payment. He strode through his Gentleman’s Outfitters store past the sewing stools of the busy tailors, their nimble fingers quickly stitching the colourful cloth into beautiful creations. His creations were sought after by the richest in the land and he daily turned customers requests away. Marcus stood in front of one of the sewing mankins, currently half dressed in a fine outer dresscoat. His fingers pulled on the hems and fluttered absentmindedly over the seams.

“Such a waste of good material’ he tutted. “You hardly see most of it. This years Balls will have everyone looking like damned Pirates.” Slashing, the newest fashion creation involved two layers of cloth being placed one over the other. The outer was then slashed to reveal the contrasting inner one. Marcus shook his head at the vulgarity of it. It had begun to be seen in all forms of fashions- not only in men's and women's gowns, but with their shoes, and caps.

“Signor Solis, there is a .. gentleman asking after you.” Quavered one of his clerks. “ He wishes to have one of your new designed dress coats for Marquis DeLumes Ball.”

The small man edged as close as he dared to Marcus and whined fearfully. “He said he’d cut my gizzards out if I didn’t come back with an appointment with one of our tailors.” Marcus snorted. His creations were sought after by the richest in the land and he daily turned customers requests away.

“Tell the … gentleman that he might be better suited to enquire down at the Spanish quarter”

The clerk looked toward the small waiting room where a dark shadow formed beside the doorframe, the shape promising a well built and armed customer who would not take kindly to this advice.

Clearing his throat, the clerk whispered, “ He said you’d say that and er.. herm..” the clerk cleared his constricting throat, “you have lost your monopoly on fashion for this season.”

A long cloak flicked around ,the noise telling Marcus of its exquisite weight and cut. A cold breeze and the shop door slamming announced the visitors departure.

Clicking his wooden heels on the flagstone floors, Marcus walked steadily to the back of the room and pulled the large set of keys from his waist strap, unlocking the door at the end. Here were stored the lifeblood of a tailors business; their’ Intaglio’ – the unique patterns and designs individually manufactured for nobles and royalty. The room had no natural light for security reasons, so Marcus lit the fine beeswax candle lantern, careful to keep the flame low as he entered. His hand automatically went to the middle table with long hanging drawers and pulled it out. Fumbling along the patterns, his hand became frantic as he realized his prized piece was missing. Each tailor jealously guarded their Intaglio, going so far as having contracts with noble folk to ensure discarded garments are brought back to the originating shops, so as not to fall into the hands of other tailors and for cheap imitations to be manufactured.

Bringing the light as close as he dared to the flimsy patterns, he looked down; a bold shape on the floor demanded his attention. Marcus brought the grimy Spanish wine flagon up into the light, the body thick with dust only disturbed by his fingerprints and a lavish parchment attached to the neck. “Compliments Captain Juan”.

This forms part of an ongoing series of Captains Juans adventures - first appearing on Pauls' blogs. However the good captain has travel lust and forged his way to mine then to Jodis' and thus earned his own website:

The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan