Disclaimer: The characters -- Tessa Alvarado, Dr. Helm, Colonel Montoya, Captain Grisham and the Queen of Swords -- are copyrights of the producers, Fireworks Productions and Paramount. No infringement or revenue is intended. The story plot is original and copyright to the author, Maril Swan.

Author's Translation Note: gitanos - Gypsies; payos - non-Gypsies.

Madrid, Spain, early fall 1811

The late afternoon sun sent its slanting rays through the casement window, filling the room with honeyed light. Dust motes swirled in its beam, disturbed by the breeze of the opening door. A woman sat staring out at the Madrid street, seeing nothing, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

She turned quickly as Elena, one of the villa's servants entered. "Anything?" she asked in a voice nearly devoid of hope. Elena shook her head and Marta's shoulder slumped as she put her head in her hands, supported by her elbows on the table.

Poor Marta, Elena thought, observing her anguish. She looks a wreck. Hardly eaten or slept in nearly three days, and her eyes are so red from weeping. That Alvarado brat has a lot to answer for. If she were my daughter, I would give her such a beating for this! Elena crossed herself, adding quickly, Por Dios, I just hope nothing bad has happened to her.

"Marta," Elena said, her voice soft with sympathy, as if she were in the sickroom of a dying person. "There is a man here to see you. He says he is your brother."

"Bring him to me, Elena, por favor," Marta answered in a hoarse whisper. Fatigue made her stagger slightly as she arose to meet her visitor. She held the back of the chair for support and shook her head morosely. What bad timing, she thought. I haven't seen him for nearly two years, but he could not have come at a worse time.

The door opened and a vigorously handsome man strode in, a wide smile flashing across his face as he came forward to greet his sister. He opened his arms and Marta rushed into them. His comforting presence opened the floodgates of her torment and she began to sob heavily against his chest.

"Rafael! It's Tessa..." Marta gasped, trying to catch her breath. "She has been gone nearly three days... We have searched all of Madrid... There is no trace of her."

"She is with us," Rafael said calmly, as he held her back to look into her face.

Like someone waking from a nightmare, Marta slowly took in what he had said. She slumped against her brother and he led her to the chair, setting her down gently. "With you!" she said. "Let me see her. Where is she?"

"With us, as I said. At our camp." Rafael smiled, a roguish twinkle in his black eyes. He brushed a lock of wavy dark hair off his brow. His movements were economical and his slight frame seemed to contain unleashed energy like a coiled spring. "She rode into our camp early yesterday. At first, I thought she was a young man. She was dressed in men's clothing, with a sword at her side. But on a closer look, I knew she was a woman." Rafael raised his black eyebrows, grinned cheekily and made a female shape with his hands. "She has certainly changed a lot in two years," he added with a laugh.

"Rafael!" Marta said, shocked. "Remember who you are speaking of!" Regaining her composure, Marta continued, "Why did you not bring her back with you? You must have known I would be worried to death about her." She expelled a long breath, and added, "I had just about given up hope of ever seeing her again. You cannot imagine the thoughts I have had these past three days. Was she kidnapped, murdered, ravished... I could not think where she had gone or what to do. And all the time she was running away to join the Gypsies. It is just too funny!"

Marta's harsh laugh held an edge of hysteria which threatened to overwhelm her, fatigue and relief using up her last resources. Rafael regarded his sister with affectionate concern. He touched her cheek gently, and she calmed. "Oh, Rafael! Since Don Alvarado went back to California three years ago, she has been impossible. Tessa wanted to return with him, but he insisted she stay here to get an education. For weeks after he left, she sulked. That was hard enough. After that, she became like a devil's child -- disobedient, wilful, disrespectful, throwing tantrums over the least thing. I have had no control over her. She did as she pleased."

Studying her clenched hands, she continued, "Four days ago, we had such an argument. I found out her music maestro, Señor Torres, is actually a fencing master. Imagine, she was taking fencing lessons behind my back, for three years, deceiving me, lying to me."

In spite of his genuine sympathy for his younger sister, Rafael started to laugh. "Fencing lessons," he chortled, unable to contain himself. "Fencing lessons instead of music lessons. Yes, I can see that. It is just like her." He broke into huge guffaws, while Marta eyed him angrily. Composing himself, he grinned at her, "If she had asked you or her father, would she have been allowed? I can't really blame her, though it was wrong to be deceitful to someone who loves her as you do."

"It is my fault she is the way she is. I have spoiled her, given in to her too much." Marta turned her weary eyes to her brother, then looked away in chagrin. "Don Alvarado made a mistake in giving her into my care. What do I know about raising a child?"

Rafael chucked Marta under her chin, the way he always did when they were children. "What should you know about it? You're hardly more than a child yourself."

His remark drew a smile from her. "Time passes, my dear brother. I'm no child. I feel old." She laughed shortly. "And she is driving me to an early grave." Marta patted his hand affectionately. "I have not said yet how glad I am to see you, Rafael. And how relieved I am that Tessa is all right. Now, perhaps you would like some food, then we will go and fetch her back here."

Rafael regarded Marta for a long moment, then asked, "Why did she run away? What was the argument about?"

"When I found out about the fencing lessons, I confronted her and told her she must stop. She snapped her fingers at me and said I was not her mother and she would do as she pleased. I was so angry, I raised my hand to slap her, but I didn't. Instead, I told her I would write to her father and tell him of her behaviour. I said he would probably send her to a convent until she was married. She rushed out and closed herself in her bedroom. That was just after the dinner hour. I was too upset to speak to her, so we both went to bed angry.

"The next morning I went to her room to make peace with her, and she was gone! All that day, I thought she was just staying away, still in a sulk over our argument. She has done this before. I was worried, and when it started to get dark, I sent the other servants out to look for her. All night they searched and all the next day. I went out myself and wandered all over Madrid, asking anyone I met if they had seen a young woman of her description. We continued to search through the night again, to no avail. Now I know why. She was never here!" Marta frowned slightly, and asked, "How did she ever find the camp?"

Her brother raised an eyebrow at her. "You told her, of course. While filling her head with romantic stories about your childhood, you told her where we have our winter camp. All she had to do was get near enough, then ask the townspeople. The payos always know where we are camped. They make sure we do not get too close. As if we would want to," Rafael added with a bitter laugh.

Rafael sat down in a chair near her, a pensive expression on his face. "Mama and I talked about Tessa, and why she ran away. She is not a bad girl, but I think she is afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Marta asked.

"Of life. Or maybe the life to which she seems to be destined. To become the wife of a don, to have his children, to get fat and lazy with servants to do everything for her. That is the life ahead of her. If it was me, I would be afraid," he commented wryly.

"What else is there for a woman? She is what she is, the daughter of Don Alvarado. She will be expected to marry well when she goes to live in California." Even as she stated these facts, Marta felt her own spirits depressed by those thoughts. She is high-spirited and not afraid to defy convention, Marta mused, thinking about the fencing lessons. It must have taken a great effort for a young woman to arrange them for herself. What will happen to her in the rigid confines of a traditional marriage? She will be suffocated, her spirit destroyed.

"Mama had an idea how to handle this situation. She suggested that Tessa stay with us for a while." He chuckled, and added, "After a week or two of rough living in our camp, she will be begging to come home. I think she just needs a little adventure in her young life."

"What about Don Alvarado? If he ever finds out about this, I will lucky to just lose my position. He could have me thrown in jail."

"How is he to know? He is thousands of miles away, and certainly no gitano will tell him anything."

"Let me think about it, Rafael. Meanwhile, you must be hungry. I will arrange a meal for you. Then we will go." Marta started to rise, but her brother restrained her gently with his hand on her shoulder.

"You look so tired, Marta, I hardly think you could stay on a horse. Go and get some rest. We will start tomorrow."

She began to protest, then nodded wearily. "I think you are right. Now that I know she is safe, perhaps I can at last get some sleep."

A day and a half travelling on horseback found the two riders on a narrow track through the woods. All was hushed except for the creak of saddle leather and the crackle of dry leaves as the horses plodded through the autumn forest. Now and then the trees hummed with the wind and crisp leaves rustled across the ground. The brother and sister kept a companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Marta said, "How much farther is it?" A good night's rest had restored her strength, and she had an excited flush on her cheeks, a brilliant gleam in her eyes. It had been over five years since she had seen her mother and her people, and she was anxious to see them again. The thought of her confrontation with Tessa dimmed her spirits momentarily. What will I say to her, Marta wondered. How will she react to me after all this? The forest trail opened into a clearing, and Marta gave an excited gasp. "Look, Rafael. The camp!"

She reined her horse at the edge of the clearing to fill her eyes with the sight of the Rom camp with its circle of multicoloured caravans, the cooking fires tended by women in brilliant costumes, the children playing nearby, and the men working or talking in groups. No one had seen them yet, and Marta wanted to prolong this moment, to savour it. In her heart she was also reluctant to disturb this peaceful scene, afraid of what her encounter with Tessa might bring.

Rafael kneed his horse forward. Marta followed, her eyes searching for Tessa among her people. She spied the young woman with Pico, her nephew. He seemed to be showing her how to juggle coloured balls, and Tessa was laughing gaily as she tried it herself. As they rode into the camp, many began to gather and point, then to come toward the two riders. Marta could see welcoming smiles on all the faces she looked on, but one.

Tessa saw her and seemed to freeze. Her eyes widened with fear, and she glanced away as if looking for a place to run. Instead, she pulled herself up more rigidly and held her ground, awaiting whatever would come. Marta smiled, a warmth spreading through her as she realized, with pride, that Tessa was not a coward. If there was to be a punishment, she would take it.

Marta dismounted and led her horse to Tessa, trying to gauge the girl's feelings toward her. Does she hate me so much, Marta wondered. Uncertainly, the younger woman took a few steps forward, her jaw working, and Marta could see she was afraid. As if I could ever harm her, Marta thought fiercely. She rushed to Tessa and embraced her ardently, unable to speak. She felt the girl trembling, and her cheek moistened with tears. Hers or Tessa's?

"I'm so sorry, Marta," the young woman finally stammered. "It was wicked of me to put you to all this distress. Please forgive me." She sniffed loudly and added, "I have been in torment for days."

Marta laughed fondly, brushing the tears from Tessa's face. "Yes, I could see how tormented you were, over there playing with Pico." She pressed the girl to her breast again, and whispered, "Of course, I forgive you." She gently extricated herself from Tessa's embrace, and added, "Now, I must go and greet my family. I have not seen them for a long time. We will speak later."

"Mama," Marta cried, enfolding the old woman's frail body in her arms. She has aged so much, Marta thought sadly. Time passes so quickly for the old. She kissed the soft cheeks, drinking in the fragrance that her mother always had about her, a mixture of spices and herbs. Her caravan had always been redolent of those scents. They carried Marta back to her girlhood, watching Mama picking herbs and preparing potions, tinctures and even perfumes for ladies. The meagre spaces inside the caravan were jammed with earthen jars and bottles containing the necessaries of her trade as a healing woman. Mama had painstakingly taught Marta all she knew of herbs and medicines, so she had been very disappointed when Marta had gone to the city for work, her herbal knowledge seemingly wasted.

The caravan lurched suddenly as a spare grey-haired man pushed through the door, a wide toothy grin wreathing his face. "Marta," he exclaimed, reaching for her and giving her a tight hug.

"Uncle Tonio!" Marta's eyes streamed with joy, as she glanced at her mother, then at her uncle. After her father died, Uncle Tonio had helped her mother raise Rafael and herself. He was her mother's brother, and he had taken her family upon himself, helping to support them as well as his own small family. Of his three children, only Pico had survived to adulthood. In spite of this, and losing his wife, Uncle Tonio always seemed to be brimming with humour, laughter in his twinkling black eyes.

Those dark eyes studied her now, and Marta grew uncomfortable under that close scrutiny. Finally he said, "You look well, Marta. A grown woman. When are you going to marry? Paolo won't wait forever." He laughed, a sudden bark that had always alarmed her as a child. He chuckled softly, then added, "It would seem your lost lamb found her way to us. What are you going to do with her? If my daughter ran away, I would punish her severely."

"She is not my daughter, Uncle Tonio. I have no authority to punish her, even if I wanted to." Marta met his eyes and she added, "Mama suggested that Tessa might stay with the band for a while. But it is up to you to decide if she may or not. I have given the idea much thought on my way here, and if you are willing to have her, I would like Tessa to remain here in the camp until she is ready to return to Madrid."

"Is this right, Luisa? You want to keep this payo girl here with us?" Uncle Tonio turned to Marta, his face serious. "What of her father? You know what could happen to us if there is any hint that she was kept here against her will. What would he do if he found out she had been living in a gitano camp?" He stood up in the cramped space, pensively looking between Marta and her mother. At last he said, "She may stay here, but only if you remain also, Marta. That is my final word on it." With that, he left the caravan. His hearty voice could be heard outside hailing someone, and there was a burst of laughter.

"Marta, it is so good to have you with us again. How have you fared in that awful city? Do you remember anything I taught you about healing?" Her mother's eyes filled with tears, a shadow in their depths. Marta knew she had not much longer to live. Fate has sent me back before it is too late, she thought. We both know this may be our last time together. She pushed that thought away, and began to tell her mother about her life in Madrid among the payos.

A feast was prepared to celebrate the return of Luisa's daughter, and the camp buzzed with activity the whole day. The cooking fires held large cauldrons of stews, giving off delicious smells. Marta spent most of her day going from one group to another, talking animatedly, laughter never far from her throat as she slipped back into the context of her youth. Her people. Beautiful, joyous, passionate. The Rom.

That night, after the meal, a calm descended on the camp as the gitanos relaxed around the campfire. Marta got some blankets to wrap around Luisa so she could sit outside her caravan and enjoy the cool evening with her people. Her mother felt the cold more keenly now, she had admitted to Marta. Her daughter tucked the blankets more closely around the old woman, adding an extra hug as she seated herself alongside.

Tessa sat on the other side of Luisa, drawn to her maternal warmth, grateful for the chance to stay with the gitanos, at least for a while. She could not believe her good fortune. She expected to be forced to return to Madrid, to endure some punishment, perhaps even be sent to live with her father's sister in Barcelona. Tessa shuddered at that thought. Tia Damona was a hard-eyed woman, so fervently religious she was frightening, with her eternal warnings and platitudes about the fires of hell, the evil of men, and the dangers of carnal love. Tessa's last visit, with her father just before he had returned to California, had made her beg Don Alvarado never to make her go to live there with her aunt. It had been his intention to leave Tessa with his sister, but her plea had changed his mind. Damona was not the right kind of woman to raise his impressionable and spirited daughter. He had given that responsibility to her trusted servant, Marta, instead.

She stole a glance at Marta. How different she is here, among her own people, Tessa thought. She laughs and jokes, her eyes are bright with joy. Tessa looked pensively into the campfire, oppressed by remembrance of her own behaviour these last three years. She has every reason to hate me. I have driven the joy from her life. She has scarcely laughed or smiled all this time. I gave her no reason to, only provoked her to anxiety and anger. Sighing heavily, she felt the prickling of tears in her eyes, the coolness as the drops rolled down her cheeks while she stared at the dancing flames.

Marta noticed the girl's distress, the tears running unheeded to her chin. She moved to get up to comfort her, to reassure Tessa. Luisa gave her a stern look, shaking her head, as she restrained Marta with a firm pressure on her arm. She whispered, "She is learning a hard lesson, that her actions have consequences, that she must take responsibility for them. Leave her alone for now." Marta sat back down beside her mother, her heart aching from Tessa's misery, longing to hold her. But her mother was older and wiser, and Marta allowed herself to be guided by her wisdom.

Uncle Tonio's voice could be heard all through the camp as he passed from caravan to caravan, talking with his little band and provoking laughter with his jokes and jibes. Eventually someone called out, "Tonio, play for us!" His face broke into a wide grin. He didn't have to be asked twice as he went to his own caravan to fetch his violin.

He tucked the instrument under his chin and after a few experimental strokes with the bow, began a sonorous melody of such haunting beauty, Tessa felt her heart would break. Then, he suddenly changed the tempo to something faster, more lively. People started to clap to the beat. A woman picked up her guitar and added its voice to the violin's. The group grew more animated, calling out encouragement and praise to the players. As the tempo increased, excitement grew. A woman jumped up and began to dance in a wild flurry of flying feet and swirling skirts. A man joined her, melding his steps to hers, as they clapped and stamped, their passionate moves telling a story, a story as old as time. Soon other dancers leapt up, unable to resist the lure of flamenco while the older folk clapped and shouted, laughed and remembered.

Tessa raised her eyes to the dancers, the colour and passion igniting something new in her soul. Her heart beat faster with the excitement of those stamping feet, those swirling skirts, the sparkle of the joy of life in their eyes. She longed to join them, but could not. They were not her people. She felt excluded, alien.

A man approached where the women were sitting. He was of medium height, with a darkly handsome face and intense black eyes. Their intensity was now concentrated on Marta, and he flashed her a quick smile , holding out his hands, inviting her to dance. Tessa frowned in consternation and glanced at Marta. The woman's face was flushed with the warmth of the campfire, its light glittering in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Tessa turned her gaze away, disconcerted, As Marta arose, taking his hands, Tessa looked back and suddenly saw what he saw. A beautiful woman. He loves her, Tessa thought in shock. She had never thought of Marta this way before: a woman a man might love, might want to marry. She had always been her Marta, her companion and servant. Tessa's spirits plummeted once more as Marta and the man joined the dancers. This is where she belongs, with her people. With a man who loves her. And after what I have done, how I have treated her, who could blame her if she wanted to stay here with them... with him.

Marta and the man slowly circled and watched each other, slowly beginning to match their steps, then faster and faster they danced, losing themselves in the music, the passion of the flamenco. Marta's face was alight with joy as she gave herself up wholly to the dance, to duende.

It almost hurt Tessa's eyes to watch. This was not Marta but another woman, someone she did not know. Yet she could not tear her eyes away as she watched in fascination this other Marta -- not the angry and scolding woman Tessa had made her, but a passionate and carefree woman amongst her own people.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Tessa jumped. She looked up and saw Pico grinning down at her, his eyebrows raised slightly as he held out his hand. "Dance with me," he invited. He was the same age as Tessa, and about the same height, with the slight frame of his people. Handsome like his uncle Rafael, with the same dark features and twinkling black eyes, he had become attached to Tessa from the moment she had entered the camp.

She shook her head, but he grabbed her hand and drew her to her feet. Luisa remarked, "Go on, Tessa. You know you want to. Pico will show you. Go on, have fun." The old woman's face creased into a wide smile as she watched the youngsters enter the dance. Ah, to be so young, she thought serenely. I would not want it again. So many troubles, so much heartache. It is better to be old, and have all that behind you. Her eyes softened as she gazed at Marta dancing with the man, Paolo. She should have stayed with us, married Paolo, Luisa thought, sighing. Who will be the healing woman when I am gone. And she looks so happy now.

Pico guided Tessa among the dancers, showing her the steps and laughing when she stumbled, encouraging her with his praise. Self-conscious, fearing the gitanos were watching her clumsiness, Tessa concentrated on her feet, trying to match his moves, until finally he said with a wide smile, "Forget your feet, listen to your heart. And let yourself go with the music." At length, the exultant rhythms and wild energy of the flamenco swept away her inhibitions and Tessa was carried off in the jubilance of the dance.

Uncle Tonio set his violin down and went to the water barrel to refresh himself with a drink. The woman with the guitar, Estrellita, continued to strum quietly. Suddenly her voice began a song that began as a hushed, almost aching, threnody then soared above the treetops, among the sparks from the campfire and the stars in the sky. The hair on Tessa's arms stood up as she listened, transfixed by the mystery of that voice and its song. This is a world within the world, she thought. I never knew such beauty existed. At length, Uncle Tonio picked up his violin again and the dancing resumed, lasting far into the night until everyone was exhausted.

As Tessa settled into her blankets beside Marta and Luisa in their caravan, she whispered fervently, "I am so happy here, Marta. I never want to go back!" Marta said nothing, not wanting to spoil this night for Tessa with the realities she must soon face.

Marta fell back easily into the rhythm of the gitano's days, working with the women, helping her mother with her healing potions, and spending hours telling stories about Madrid and her time there. My people, she thought time and again, as she kept busy about the camp. How wonderful they are, how they have survived in spite of everything, how they have kept their joy of life no matter how much hardship is inflicted upon them.

As the fall days turned to winter, Tessa showed no sign of wanting to leave. To Marta's surprise, she did her share of chores in the camp. But, as Marta observed with some concern, Tessa also spent time with those of the gitano who had skills they showed for entertainment, trying to learn those skills herself. Whenever Marta had time to watch, Tessa might be trying her hand at knife-throwing under the watchful eye of Lorenzo whose skill with the knife was amazing. Another time she would be juggling with Pico, whose face showed his delight in her company and her interest in his art. Or she would be learning some of Rafael's trick riding techniques while he held the horse on a lunge line.

One day, several months after they had come into the camp, Marta saw Tessa with Uncle Tonio and her heart nearly stopped with fright. He was demonstrating the use of the bullwhip, making it snake and dance, picking off targets with incredible accuracy. Her face paled as she took a step toward them, her eyes hardened with anger.

Her mother grabbed her arm and shook her head. "Tonio will not let anything happen to her. Let her learn whatever she is interested in. It can do her no harm, and I feel these skills may someday be useful."

Marta laughed scornfully. "Yes, Mama, trick riding, juggling and knife-throwing are certainly the skills a Spanish lady needs. She will be quite a sensation in California!" She relapsed into a watchful silence, starting when Luisa spoke again.

"Before you arrived, Marta, your Tessa begged me to do a Tarot reading for her. She said she had never seen this done." Luisa regarded her daughter somewhat reproachfully. "Do you never touch the cards these days?"

"Mama, I live in a Catholic household. These things are regarded as heretical, devil-worship. And the Inquisition could be reinstated at any time. I try to be as inconspicuous as possible, to draw no attention to myself. " Marta smiled conspiratorially at her mother. "But I do touch my cards every day as you taught me."

"That is good. I did a reading for Tessa. At first, I did not want to, but she insisted. You know how she can be." The two women laughed, and Luisa continued. "I am confused by what I saw, but also concerned. Perhaps you could suggest what it means." Luisa drew in a deep breath. "In my vision, I saw a woman dressed all in black, and I felt fear, danger, and more than that, great sorrow. Does this mean anything to you, Marta?"

Marta shook her head, her eyes clouded with worry. Her mother's readings were always accurate, but this vision held no meaning for her. She tried to imagine what her mother saw, and could not. "I cannot say what this portends for Tessa. All I can say is that whenever this vision comes to pass, I will be there with my Tessa, to protect her."

Her mother sighed heavily. "You should have married Paolo, Marta. You would have been a fine mother. As it is..." Luisa left the thought unfinished.

"As it is, Mama, I don't think I shall ever marry. I have told Paolo that many times. And as for children, Tessa is all the daughter I could ever have wanted. I am satisfied with my life... as it is."

The women returned to watching Tessa uncoiling the bullwhip with total concentration, trying to copy Uncle Tonio's skilful moves. Marta noted with almost maternal pride how, in a few months with the gitano, the softness of Tessa's young body had tightened into muscle; she moved with athletic grace. In her eyes was no longer the sulky wilfulness of the child, but a bolder look, the confidence of a young woman who would face life unflinchingly.

Marta exchanged a fond glance at her mother and said, "Mama, I think Fate has sent us here among you to learn some lessons."

"What have you learned?" her mother asked.

"That to love is not to control, but to let go, and to trust."

"A hard lesson," her mother replied thoughtfully, "and you must learn it over and over."

The chill rainy winter passed and soon the gitano troupe began to prepare for the road. Marta waited for Tessa to show some sign of wanting to return to Madrid, but she never spoke of it. Tessa seemed to have adopted the gitano as her own people and settled comfortably into their lives. Finally, Marta felt she must raise the issue. When the gitano travelled they met many dangers and hardships, as Marta remembered with dread in her heart.

"Tessa, when the band gets nearer to Madrid we must go back home. We have been away too long already."

The girl's face fell with disappointment, and she regarded Marta sulkily. "I don't want that life, Marta. This is the life I want. With people who know how to live. In Madrid, things are stale, dead. I never want to go back to that." Her jaw set stubbornly, with a haughty look Marta knew only too well. It was the look that divided them into mistress and servant, that wounded Marta in her soul. She knew she would give in regardless of her own misgivings, but she had to try to reason with Tessa.

"Tessa, I have been sending letters to your father all this winter, lying to him, telling him how your studies progress. Paolo has taken these letters to be posted in Madrid to go on a ship to California. How can I ever face Don Alvarado again after this? I have betrayed his trust. You are not attending to your lessons... you are playing at being a gitano, something you can never be. When your father finds out, and he will somehow, I will be punished for this and lose my position. Is that what you want?"

The younger woman looked away, abashed by the hurt expression in Marta's eyes. I am doing it again, she thought reproachfully, what I had vowed to myself I would not do, cause Marta any more anguish. "Even if Papa finds out, you will come to no harm. I promise. I will take the blame. I will protect you, Marta." Tessa embraced her companion warmly and kissed her cheek. "But please, let me go on the road, for just a little while. Then we will go back to Madrid."

Marta laughed ruefully. "I knew it was useless to persuade you, but I had to try. We will travel with my people for a while."

Tessa whooped with joy and ran off to help with the breaking up of the camp.

As the miles rolled under the caravan wheels and spring turned to summer, they rode the byways and paths, staying off main thoroughfares, stopping a day or two near small towns and villages. After setting up camp, the gitano entertainers would enter the town and stage their exhibitions, to the amazement and delight of the townsfolk. Marta would go with the troupe and set up a table for Tarot card reading and consultation on remedies, but she forbade Tessa to accompany the troupe, fearing she might be recognized.

Early one afternoon, the gitano were entertaining in a small town and a large group of payos had gathered around them. Marta, who was for the moment unoccupied with a client, watched as Lorenzo threw his knives with such amazing skill that the crowd clapped and shouted in awe. She shifted her gaze to Uncle Tonio playing his violin, accompanied by Estrellita on the guitar, as a cluster of children and adults listened, rapt by the beauty of their music. She caught sight of Pico, juggling and laughing as he pretended to nearly drop the objects he was tossing and catching. Nearby, some of the gitano women were selling handmade kerchiefs and other goods.

Suddenly her eye was caught by a familiar figure in the crowd. She was dressed in men's clothing and passing among the audience, holding out a cap to collect coins. Madre de dios, Marta thought in alarm, Tessa! As she was about to arise to get to the girl, a timid voice in front of her table said, "Gypsy lady, will you tell my fortune?" Sinking back into her chair, Marta smiled wanly at the young woman, a wisp of a girl tremulously holding out a coin.

"Of course, señorita," she replied, trapped for the time being as she tried to concentrate on the Tarot. But her eyes kept glancing toward Tessa, who was smiling and joking with the crowd while accepting their donations. All at once, Marta burst out laughing, much to the surprise of her client. If Don Alvarado ever saw her doing this, he would have a seizure, Marta thought. A wealthy Spanish noblewoman begging coins for Gypsies. It is just too funny!

Sobering, Marta returned her attention to the young woman, who was shocked by the outburst. "Gypsy lady, why are you laughing at me?"

"Because I am so overjoyed by the prospects of your future. You will..." Marta droned on, telling the woman what she knew she wanted to hear, and accepting the coin for making her happy, at least for a while.

That evening Marta was about to take Tessa to task for disobeying her and going into the town, when the drumbeat of hooves reached their ears. The gitano glanced at each other in sudden fear, then ran for their caravans, getting inside quickly.

Marta grabbed Tessa's arm and started to drag her toward their caravan. "Come on, Tessa. Get in and lock the door." Terror edged her voice as she pushed Tessa ahead of her.

"What's going on, Marta? Why is everyone hiding?" Tessa pulled back, straining her eyes toward the narrow path that led into their camp. The hoofbeats were coming closer.

Marta propelled her with a violent shove toward the caravan. "Just do as you're told for once in your life!" she shouted as looking over her shoulder, she saw a small group of men on horseback ride into the camp.

Inside the caravan, Marta exchanged a frightened glance with her mother. Luisa's black eyes held the horror of another night like this and Marta looked away quickly, remembering. Tessa moved to peek out through a small hole in the caravan's wooden side. The sounds of men whooping and yelling and things smashing reached her ears, and then she saw them. Three men riding around the camp, trampling and destroying anything they could reach while laughing and encouraging each other. A wild fury possessed her, and before Marta could react, Tessa was out the door, scooping up her sword from the caravan bench and running into the middle of the riders.

"Bastardos! Cobardes! Vandales!" she shouted, waving the sword. Her sudden appearance caused one of the horses to shy, spilling its rider onto the ground with a heavy thud, then a scream of pain. Tessa scarcely gave him a glance as one of the other horsemen, seeing his fallen comrade, turned his horse to charge at her. She stepped beside the injured man and the rider veered away before trampling his friend. He leapt from his horse with an oath, and seeing the sword in her hand, drew his own. Reeling drunkenly toward her, he swung the sword back and forth, threateningly. "You Gypsy puta", he snarled, trying to keep his feet and focus on her. "What have you done to my friend?"

"The drunken fool fell from his horse. Whatever happened was his own fault." She regarded the young man quizzically. His clothing, though in disarray, was expensive. He was one of her own class. "Who are you and why are you doing this? We have done you no harm."

For an answer, he charged at her, staggering and missing his target -- her breast -- instead catching a piece of her sleeve and tearing it. Tessa regarded the rip in confusion. The idiot is trying to kill me! she thought in shock. She swallowed the lump of fear that leapt into her throat and concentrated on her adversary. He had regained his balance after stumbling past her and was coming at her again with such a look of malevolence that she shuddered. Why does he hate these people?

From the corner of her eye, she saw the third rider getting off his horse and pulling his sword. Madre de dios, she thought, two of them! Maestro Torres never showed me this!

Marta had jumped down from the caravan and was watching, her eyes filled with panic as the two men confronted Tessa. From her boot, she pulled out a knife, and while the men's attention was focussed on Tessa, she crept up behind the third intruder who was stalking toward the group. Pressing her knife against his spine, she hissed close to his ear, "Drop your sword and I won't kill you. Take one step toward the girl, and you are dead!"

His face paled and he dropped his sword. Suddenly, he retched, bent over and pitched the contents of his stomach on the ground. Marta gave him a boot on the rump and he fell into the mess. She picked up the sword, turning again to watch Tessa.

Both combatants had been observing Marta, but now the young man turned back to Tessa, angrier than ever, seeing his friend humiliated that way. "Scum, parasites, thieves," he shouted, swaying, "I will kill you all!"

"First you'll have to catch me," Tessa taunted, dodging his clumsy thrusts and dancing around him while he staggered dizzily, trying to keep up. At one point she slapped his rump with the flat of her sword, causing him to swear such oaths that she covered her ears. Finally, tiring of the game, she flipped his sword out of his hand and pressed her blade to his chest. "Take out your purse and empty it on the ground. You will pay for the damages to their property," she commanded, pressing harder when he did not obey immediately. "Leave five coins and take the rest. I would not want you saying you were robbed."

The young man picked up his coins, glaring balefully at her. "You think you have won? Just wait!" he rasped. He bent to retrieve his sword, but Tessa stepped firmly on the blade.

"I think not. I have had enough trouble with you for one day. Now, take your friends and go."

"Wait, Tessa," Marta called. "First let me tend to the injured man. I think his arm is broken."

"I would not let a putalike you touch him!" the young man shouted. He bent to his friend, whose face was pale with pain, and helped him onto his horse. The third man had regained his feet and seemed in a daze as he also found his horse and remounted. The trio rode out of the camp, a much more subdued group than had arrived only minutes before.

For a few seconds, all the gitano who had come out of their caravans to watch the action seemed frozen. Suddenly, Uncle Tonio strode to Tessa, a scowl on his face. He snatched her sword and threw it on the ground, saying in a harsh voice, "Do you have any idea what you have done? Not everything can be solved with a sword!" As he turned, abruptly, the whole group burst into activity, running to pick up everything and throw it into the caravans.

Marta gestured urgently to Tessa, "Come on, help me hitch the horses. We must go!"

Hurt by Uncle Tonio's words, Tessa stood for a moment, bewildered. Finally, she said, "What is the matter with everyone? What is going on?"

Marta ignored her and continued getting the caravan ready for a speedy departure. Tessa picked up some of their things that had been trampled and thrust them into the caravan, an angry pout on her face. I risked my life to help them and this is how I'm treated, she thought resentfully. Without a word, she climbed onto the bench beside Marta as the woman whipped up the horses and the caravan lurched into line behind the others. The rattle of the wagons was too loud for talk, and Marta did not seem inclined to speak to her anyway. Tessa slumped on the bench, arms crossed, thinking, it seems nothing I do is ever right. And now Marta won't even tell me what I've done wrong. A strained silence prevailed between the two woman as the caravan rumbled along the path.

As night fell, they travelled in the dark, stopping only to rest the horses and eat a hasty meal. Keeping to the byways, the caravans rolled swiftly, their path lit only by a dim moonlight.

Rafael rode in from scouting behind them, his horse lathered, his eyes frightened, his breathing laboured. "They are coming!" he rasped. "About an hour behind us."

Uncle Tonio held a quick conference on horseback with some of the men. They cantered back down the trail and he shouted urgently to the others, "Get moving! There is a fork in the road ahead. Take the left." He pointed at Tessa, Pico and a few of the younger folk. "Get off the wagons when we get there and sweep the trail behind the caravans. We must erase our wagon tracks as much as possible."

Tessa's eyes widened in fear. Suddenly it occurred to her what they were running from. An armed mob! And all because of what she had done. Her heart was in her throat as they passed the fork in the road, and she got down to cut some branches to help the others sweeping away all sign of the wagons passing.

The men returned quickly with the news that the mob, about twenty armed men, were gaining faster than they thought. Rafael said urgently, "Get the wagons off the road and keep everyone quiet. They may pass us in the dark if they can't see or hear us."

Tessa climbed back on the caravan as Marta urged the horses off the trail and into the trees. But, Marta noted, the moonlight would betray them. It was hopeless. They had only eight full-grown men with several youths, none of whom could handle a sword or gun. It would be a slaughter. Marta's memory went back to another night like this, and her chest tightened with terror. No one would get to Tessa so long as she was alive, she vowed silently.

As the last of the wagons entered the old forest, everything fell silent as they waited tensely alert for the approach of their pursuers. At first it sounded like distant thunder, then more clearly as the beat of many hooves upon the ground, coming nearer. Tessa held her breath, seeing what the mob must see, all the wagons clearly outlined in the moonlight. Please God, spare them. Don't let them see us. A sudden breeze sprang up, racing clouds obscured the moon, and the forest turned dark and silent except for the thrashing of the trees in the wind. The hoofbeats became a deafening roar as the cavalcade of horsemen rode by, taking the wrong fork in the trail. For what seemed like hours, the gitano waited, expecting the troop to return at any moment once they saw they had not caught up.

Uncle Tonio passed the word among the wagons that they would stay for another few hours, then move on. The weary gitanos climbed inside their caravans to catch what sleep they could.

Hours later, as the wagons began to move again, Rafael rode back down the trail to see if to see if anyone was following. Toward morning Tessa was taking her turn handling the reins, her eyes burning with fatigue. Marta was inside, sleeping. Uncle Tonio called for another rest stop and the caravan halted.

Tessa got down from the bench, grateful to stretch her legs and for a respite from the noise and dust of the wagons. She smiled at some of the gitano but they turned away. Her spirits sank further, and she felt the prick of tears behind her eyes.

Marta climbed out into the early dawn, her face haggard from fatigue and worry. Hesitantly, Tessa went to her and asked, "Marta, what can I do? They all hate me now. I was only trying to help. No one else was doing anything to stop them. Those cowards were destroying our camp."

"You think we are cowards too, don't you? You think we hide from fear? No, we try to avoid trouble and keep ourselves from harm. For centuries my people have been persecuted, slaughtered, enslaved. We have learned to keep to ourselves, run from trouble, and we have survived. That is our way. Why is everyone angry with you? Because you have put all our lives in danger. Those men raised a mob to come after us for what you did to them. It has happened many times before. This time we were lucky."

"Surely, the law--"

Marta snorted derisively. "Fah, there is one law for payos, and another law for gitanos. If they do something to us, there is no punishment. If we are accused of something, a terrible retribution follows."

"I don't understand this. Why did those men want to destroy the camp? We did nothing to them."

"It is prejudice, Tessa. We are despised because we are different. The payos come to us for help, to cure their ills, to train their horses, but if anything bad happens, we are suspected and driven out. It has alway been this way."

"But Marta," Tessa asked, her young eyes focussed on Marta, trying to come to grip with this new concept of prejudice, "if you fight back, will they not leave you alone? Surely you cannot give in to injustice and do nothing."

"What do you know of our ways, our history? You are a payo!" Marta snapped, fatigue making her sharp with her ward.

Tessa went rigid, her face clouded, in her eyes a hurt expression. "You called me a payo!" she accused harshly. "Is this not also prejudice?"

Marta heaved a tired sigh, then glancing at Tessa, smiled wanly. "I suppose it is. I am sorry." She gathered Tessa into a warm embrace and said again, "I'm sorry."

Later that day, the caravans rolled to a halt as Uncle Tonio said loudly, "We will camp here for the night. Rafael has seen no one pursuing us. We are safe now."

The little troupe ringed their wagons in a small circle and began to set up a temporary camp. Still no one spoke to Tessa. She was ostracized. In an agony of self-recrimination, she offered to help setting up one of the tents. Finally she threw down the tent peg and mallet, her chest heaving in agitation. In a loud voice, she said, "I'm sorry."

The activity continued as if she hadn't spoken. Marta, seeing her anguish, started toward her, but Rafael restrained her. "She must face this alone," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," she said again, louder, her voice tremulous with tears. "I didn't know what would happen. I was trying to help, to stop them from destroying your camp." Trying to gain control, she added in a harsh whisper, "Please forgive me."

All faces turned toward Tessa, standing alone in the centre of the camp, then Uncle Tonio broke from the group and strode toward her. She looked down, tears falling unheeded as she waited. He took her into a fierce embrace, and she wept on his shoulder. "There, now," he said softly. "Everything has turned out all right." He hugged her again, then held her at arm's length, exclaiming loudly, "And we are so proud of your bravery, Tessa. But," he looked sternly into her reddened eyes, "you must promise never to risk your life to save us again."

Tessa opened her mouth to speak, hesitated for a second, then said, "I don't think I can make such a promise, Uncle Tonio."

He threw his head back and laughed in his strange bark. "What a woman!" he shouted. "Well, at least promise you will think twice before doing such a foolish thing again."

She smiled wanly at him. "Yes, I can certainly make that promise."

Gitano camp, early fall - 1812

"Watch this, Marta," Tessa called out as her companion walked toward her. Tessa uncoiled the bullwhip, let it snake along the ground, then with a flip of her wrist, wrapped it around Marta's waist, playfully giving it a tug toward her. "I have improved greatly in this. Uncle Tonio says I could be as good as he is with more practice." Noticing Marta's solemn expression, she asked, "What is wrong, Marta?"

"Paolo just returned from Madrid with some letters for us. I have already read mine. Your father is coming back to Spain. He could arrive any day. This letter says he would be taking a ship as soon as the harvest is finished. This is late October, so that would have been a few weeks ago." She handed Tessa a package of letters tied with a ribbon. "You know what this means, Tessa? We must get back to Madrid before he arrives."

"Of course, I am glad that Papa is coming back..." Tessa said, her voice trailing off as she glanced around the camp, bustling with activity and colour. She expelled a long breath, shrugging regretfully, and added, "I suppose this had to end sometime."

"We will go tomorrow so we can get everything back to normal before he arrives." Marta left Tessa flipping the bullwhip disconsolately as she gazed into nothingness.

News of their departure was greeted with sadness. It was decided to have a fiesta on this, their last night with the gitano. For the rest of the day preparations were carried out for the feast. As evening fell, the meal was eaten, and one by one each of the gitano came to bid farewell to the two women.

Later, Uncle Tonio got out his violin and Estrellita her guitar. The sombre mood of the camp lightened as the unrestrained joy of flamenco infected them all. All but Pico, whose stricken eyes followed Tessa everywhere as she went from group to group, chatting animatedly. Shyly, he asked her to dance with him, and in spite of his heartache, as they danced, he too began to smile, then to laugh with the pure joy of life.

The music finally died away, and the gitano went to their beds. Tessa remained outside, leaning against their caravan, her heart too full for words as she gazed around the now-quiet camp. She wanted to drink it all in, to remember everything. For nearly a year she had lived as they lived, shared everything with them and they with her. There had been marriages, a birth, many fiestas, she recalled with a quiet smile, much dancing and flamenco. And she had learned so much from them. Whatever my life will become, she thought, it will never compare to this.

"Tessa," Marta whispered, "Come in now. We must make an early start."

Rafael tied the last items to the saddle and looked around at Tessa and Marta. It was early, the sun barely up, and the birds were just beginning to chirp in the trees around the camp. A solemn group had assembled, awaiting their departure.

Tessa kept clenching her jaw, trying not give way to the tears that threatened to spill. This is like leaving my family, she thought, a big wonderful family. She glanced at Marta and reminded herself that Marta must be feeling much more. They are her family, and if we go to California, she will probably never see them again.

Uncle Tonio embraced Marta with tears in his eyes. "We had you with us again for a while, Marta," he said, "and we are grateful. And you brought us Tessa, whom we have also learned to love."

Clearing his throat, he enfolded Tessa warmly and said, "I have no daughter of my own, Tessa. And as you already have a father, I adopt you as my niece. From now on you are gitano." Wiping his eyes, he added, "I have something for you. Something I made specially for you." He signalled to Pico, who came forward with something hidden behind his back. Pico handed Tessa a package wrapped in a bright cloth.

Through a mist of tears, she accepted the gift. It was almost square and quite heavy, and as she unwrapped the cloth, a leather pouch was revealed to her eyes. It was beautifully worked with intricate designs and colours. Tessa had often watched Uncle Tonio working with leather. He was a master craftsman and his work sought wherever they went.

"Thank you, Uncle Tonio," she said. "I have never had anything so fine. It is beautiful."

He laughed softly. "You have not seen all of it! Look inside." She reached into the pouch, her fingers encountering the handle of something. Excitedly, she pulled it out, uncoiling a bullwhip. "You have such a talent for this, I wanted you to have one of your own. Though," he chuckled, "I don't know where you would ever get the chance to use it."

Impulsively, she hugged him tightly. "Gracias, Uncle Tonio." Tessa turned to the gitano gathered for this farewell, looking into each face, wanting to remember everyone. "Thank you all for everything. I have learned so much from you. Some hard things." She smiled self-deprecatingly, and there were a few chuckles from the group. "I will never forget your kindness. You have been like a family to me." Her voice trembled and Tessa could not go on. She mounted her horse quickly, and with a wave, said, "Adios." She kneed the horse into a gallop and was soon gone from their sight. Rafael sped after her, leaving Marta who had not yet mounted her horse.

Marta embraced her mother, her throat so tight she could hardly speak. Somehow she knew this would be the last time she would ever see her. It made the parting more difficult, and she was reluctant to leave. "Adios Mama," she said finally. "Do not worry about me. I have a good life and want nothing else. I will always be thinking of you."

Luisa replied, "And I will pray for you, my daughter." The old woman added, with a slight smile, "Never forget who you are, Marta, wherever you go. You are gitano." Embracing her daughter fervently one last time, Luisa hurried to her caravan.

Marta watched her go, then turned to Uncle Tonio who pulled her into his arms. He whispered in her ear, "I will look after your mama. Vaya con dios, Marta."

With a heavy heart, Marta took a long look at the camp and her people, impressing the scene on her mind. "Thank you all for being so good to my Tessa," she said softly. "You have made me very proud of my people."

Marta caught up with Tessa and Rafael only a short distance down the trail. Miles passed, and the small group kept an introspective silence. No one seemed in the mood for conversation, each occupied with their own thoughts.

Rafael rode ahead, leaving the two women riding side by side along the narrow path. It was a fine fall day, a good day for travelling, the sun just coming up and warming the chill of the early morning.

Finally, Tessa broke the silence with, "About the fencing lessons, Marta..."

Marta laughed shortly. "I have already forgiven you for that deception, Tessa. It now seems a very small thing compared to what we have been doing this past year."

"I am glad you have forgiven me, but..." Tessa hesitated, then added, "That is not what I was going to ask you. May I continue with the lessons?"

"And if I say no."

Tessa looked away quickly. "I hope you will not."

Marta regarded her ward closely, the raised chin and the rigid set of her shoulders. She is determined no matter what I say, she thought with vexed sigh. She recalled the vision that her mother had told her of Tessa's future. Perhaps, she may need this skill someday. "You may continue the fencing lessons, Tessa, but not while your father is with us. He must never know about this year, and what you have been doing. I fear he will send you to live with your Tia Damona if he ever finds out."

The younger woman shivered, replying, "A fate worse than death! I will take this secret to my grave, Marta," she laughed. Sobering abruptly, Tessa glanced at her companion and drawing in a deep breath, said quietly, "After Papa left me to go to California, I was very angry and resentful. I know I made everyone's life miserable because mine was. I treated you very badly, Marta, and you didn't deserve it. You have been as good as a mother to me all my life." Pausing to get control of her voice, she added, "Can you ever forgive me?"

For an answer, Marta reached across her horse, taking Tessa's hand. "All is forgiven, and forgotten, Tessa. We are making a new start."

Tessa chuckled suddenly, and said, "Your Uncle Tonio adopted me as his niece. What does that make us... cousins?"

The two women laughed companionably and kneed their horses into a trot, taking them closer to Madrid and their entwined destinies.