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Link to Free Kindle Travelers in Painted Wagons on Cohay Creek
Within the pages of Travelers in Painted Wagons on Cohay Creek are mysterious tales about Gypsies. Here's the beginning of one of the stories. ("Ancient" as used in the title of this blog refers to the nineteenth century, and it's an exaggeration here.)
In the Balkan province of Wallachia, a young man named Ivor served in the mansion of an affluent master. The overseer of the serving staff couldn’t find enough chores for the multitude of slaves assigned to the household.
By the great room of the master, Ivor stood in the hall with the other servants in a row. Looking around without moving his head enough to attract attention, he saw the men’s eyes turned toward Ginger, the most beautiful slave in the master’s harem. Every feature of her face related to the others in perfect proportions.
Sullen in a way men found alluring, she played her violin. Never making eye contact with the royalty adoring her music, she danced around in a trance. Her dresses were elegant, but she owned no shoes.
“You should be proud,” a nearby slave whispered to him.
Ivor felt regret instead of pride, remorse instead of joy, compassion for his mother, who brought him forth into the world from her womb in 1830.
Fourteen years passed. He seldom had a chance to speak to his mother, even though they lived inside the same mansion. Since he was intelligent and handsome, he received what he needed. From efficient staff members, he received essential affection and instruction about the ways of aristocracy in his master’s household. Because his mother displayed magnificent musicianship, he received violin lessons, with the hope that he inherited her talent.
Ivor and Ginger passed in the corridors and spent stolen moments. How he wished they could escape.
“Who is my father?” Ivor deserved an answer. He hoped she’d answer him.