Come on, my little gypsy

Henry

My trip to Melrose lasted longer than the initial ten days. I was advising my friend George Thorpe on a farm he was thinking of buying. It was going to be a quick trip, but he insisted on seeing the town, delaying our return to Bibury, a small village in the county of Gloucestershire¹.

I was looking in the window of a hat store, wondering if I should get my sister a present, when a commotion took over the town. I watched as a series of gypsies ran past me, starting a performance in the main square. 

I didn't care, it wasn't something that appealed to me. But George was enthralled by everything that was going on. I returned my attention to the store window when I felt a small body collide with mine.

I stopped the young woman from falling, holding her by the arm. She was a magnificent creature, her well-drawn eyes showing an almost wild glint, her long black hair loose under a burgundy bandana and her tanned skin standing out, making all the others look pale and dull. 

After a brief curtsy, she ducked through the crowd, running towards the square. I couldn't help but follow her, watching as a man pushed her towards the church door. The gesture annoyed me, but the young woman soon recovered, starting a dance that was probably the most beautiful and indecent thing I had ever witnessed. 

Although my gaze was drawn to the occasional glimpse of her legs, I tried to concentrate on every detail of the young dancer until the reverend's arrival broke up the party and, snapping me out of my state of fascination, I discreetly walked away, determined to return to the hotel where we were staying. This was our last day in the city, we would be leaving before dawn.

" Where were you? " George asked " You've disappeared.

" I saw something that caught my eye " I said no " I'm sorry.

" Reverend Gillies seems to be very strict " he commented, watching the gypsies flee.

" "He has to make sure that his flock isn't contaminated by immorality," I explained. " Generally, everyone is afraid of that.

" Do you? " He asked nonchalantly, stepping back a little.

" I'm not a reverend," I scoffed.

It was at that moment that things became strange. Once again I found myself with that gypsy woman, her husky voice coupled with that smile she flashed while her fingernail traced lines on the palm of my hand gave me goosebumps. How could someone be so beautiful?

Watching her being dragged away by that man really bothered me, what was her life like? Did he mistreat her? Did he mean anything to her?

I bent down to pick up the ribboned tambourine she had dropped, watching her go.

" "You shouldn't get involved," George commented, coming back to me.

" Of course " I muttered, watching the tambourine in my hand.

" Are you going to keep this? " my friend frowned.

" Let's go back to the hotel," I said, getting back on the road, still watching the tambourine.

The rest of the day passed slowly, I couldn't forget that gypsy woman's husky voice, the exotic way she pronounced every word, a mixture of a Scottish accent and something else I couldn't identify.

That woman was fascinating. 

Once again I caught myself looking at her tambourine, it would be a good reminder of our brief encounter, as it was unlikely that we would ever meet again. Our brief relationship would end there, and I didn't even know her name.

We had a nice dinner and retired early, we would leave with the sunrise the next day, we should make the most of the time for the trip. We would spend the night in Preston before getting back on the road the next day. If all went well, we would arrive in Bibury in two days.

In the morning we followed our plan, renting a simple carriage that would take us halfway, where we would change drivers. We thought we'd have a smooth journey, but we were hit by turbulence a few minutes into our journey, and soon afterwards the driver stopped the horses.

" What happened? " George asked through the small window at the front of the carriage.

" Forgive me, sir " the man asked " The young lady suddenly appeared.

Did we hit someone?

I got out of the carriage and looked around, finding a girl on her back, picking up some gold pieces from the road.

" We narrowly missed her, sir " the driver warned.

" Are you hurt? " I approached carefully; from her clothes, it was one of the gypsies.

 What happened to her?

The young woman turned towards me, surprising me. Her skin was sooty, some of her clothes were burnt and her face was streaked with tears. Her terrified look as she tried to walk away confused me. She didn't seem willing to walk away yesterday.

Muttering something in a language I didn't understand, she turned towards the forest. Her body tensed as she heard some voices among the trees. I followed her gaze, noticing what looked like a fire some distance away, the voices becoming clearer as the gypsy's terror grew with each passing moment.

" It was all for nothing " she whispered, taking a step back. 

I don't understand what's going on, but it was clear that I couldn't leave her. Something is terribly wrong here.

" "Get in the carriage," I indicated, putting my hand on her shoulder.

" No " she pulled away abruptly " You're one of them!

" One of them? " I asked, shocked. 

She was indecisive, alternating her gaze between the carriage and the forest, probably wondering what her chances of escape were.

" I don't know who they are " I tried once more " But I'm not going to hurt you.

" "I'm sure it was the gypsy from the square," someone said, causing her to take a step towards me.

" Come on " I led her, this time without protest, to the carriage.

George stared at us in alarm as I closed the curtains and indicated to the driver to get us moving. 

We didn't get very far before a man running outside shouted something in Scots at the driver. He stopped the carriage once again, replying in the same language.

" Get on the ground " I whispered to the young woman " and keep quiet.

She obeyed me without arguing, shrinking into the little space available. I opened the curtain, watching the man standing there by my window. A few others were standing a considerable distance away, watching what was happening.

" Can I help you?

" We're looking for a gypsy " he indicated with a heavy accent " Did you see her pass by?

" I'm sorry, we didn't see anything " I denied it " We're just passing through.

" We found a gold bracelet on the road " the man insisted.

" Yesterday in town was the only time we met any gypsies, Sir " George replied " Did the girl do something?

" "She ran away," he shrugged. "Reverend Gillies has decided to bring forward this year's gypsy hunt.

My gaze went instinctively to the ground, the young gypsy girl displayed the purest terror in her gaze. 

" We burned down their camp and managed to kill a few " he went on nonchalantly " but that girl escaped from one of those wagons when we set it on fire.

Did you try to burn her alive? 

I watched his sooty face again, again soaked with tears.

" Sorry, gentlemen, we have a long journey to Bristol " George interrupted the man with a hard stare, while I clenched my fists, feeling my blood boil. 

How can you organize a human hunt?

" Right, right " The man knocked on the side of the carriage " Have a good trip, gentlemen.

I closed the curtain again, as the driver set us in motion once more. I helped her get up from the floor and sit next to me, as George was sitting facing me.

" Bristol? " I looked at my friend.

" It's better they don't know where we're going," he quipped.

" Are you hurt? " I asked the gypsy sitting next to me without getting an answer.

She stared at the bag resting on her lap, looking astonished.

" Can you tell us what happened? " George tried in vain.

" Can you at least tell us your name? " I asked, which attracted her attention. 

She stared at me for a while before taking a deep breath.

" Emma... Ferguson " She bit her lip " My name is Emma Ferguson.”

Ferguson? That's the surname of an important family in Edinburgh. Why would a gypsy call herself that?