The Heart Of A Gypsy Read Online Free

dream. The girl who had come to his cell the previous night was real.  She’d told him that he would be rescued, and here was his band of saviors. His heart beat with joy as he walked quickly in step with them.
    After surveying the area to be sure they were not being watched, they moved with lightning speed. All six men began running from the building, out a back door, where they found six healthy horses saddled and waiting.
    “Can you ride?” the largest man turned to Christian.
    “Yes,” Christian answered.
    “Good. Then prepare to ride as you have never ridden before. We must escape before they realize what we have done.”
    Just then, a flock of large white birds filled the sky, their wings flapping wildly as they flew off toward the west, breaking the silence of the day with their squawking. The leader of the group raised his right hand to the sky and yelled, “’Tis a good omen and an auspicious day!” Then he turned to Christian and smiled.
    “Ready yourselves, my friends… Ride with God at your side, and good road to all of you,” the leader yelled as he hollered a loud “Yohaa!” and kicked his horse into a gallop.

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    The horses galloped, falling into formation behind the leader, and off they headed into the forest.  A fog of dust filled the atmosphere as it flew about from beneath the animals’ hoofs.  Once the group reached the thick of the woods, they ducked beneath a canopy of branches to find a small carved-out path. Here they must travel single file. Unless one knew of the small trail, it was so well hidden that it could never be detected. Tree branches brushed against their bodies, scratching their arms, but they did not slow down as they made their way through the brush to their secret hiding place.
    Taking a roundabout route to be sure they had not been followed, the group finally arrived at the gypsy camp close to dusk. Several men met them at the clearing and took the horses, who were bathed in sweat. They would tend to the animals, allowing those who had just returned to rest from their mission. The gypsies understood horses. They were Lowari , horse traders; they knew how to care for the animals.  First the men gave them water; then they walked the hard-ridden beasts for an hour to cool them down.
    Filthy from the jail cell, compounded with the blood of the beating and the dirt from ride of the day, Christian looked unrecognizable to himself when he saw his reflection in a pot of cooking water that stood beside the beginnings of a fire. As he stood gaping at the reflection of the disheveled man he’d become, two of the resistance fighters came over to him. One put his arm about Christian’s shoulder as the two lead him towards the tent of their leader, the Shera Rom .    Before they entered the tent, one of the men offered Christian a drink of strong cherry liquor.
    “Here… It is a drink of our people. After what you’ve been through, something tells me you could use it.” 
    Smiling at him, Christian took the bottle and drank. The liquor, sweet and strong, burned as it rushed down his parched throat, but it also brought a numbing comfort.
    The tent was not really a tent at all; it was merely an overhead enclosure, open on all four sides. When he entered, Christian was greeted by a group of young men with dark eyes and hair; most wore thick mustaches.
    “Welcome, bar ; that means brother in Romany. Romany is the language of our people. We have heard of your work,” the young man who had led the group of rescuers said. His face was free of hair, and his features were strong, even and attractive. “This is the Shera Rom ; he is our leader,” he smiled, indicating an older, swarthy man to Christian.
    “Welcome, to our humble camp,” the Shera Rom said as he got up to pat Christian’s shoulder. “We have been hearing much about you for some time now, and we know of your work. Word gets around.”  All of the men in the group nodded in agreement. Then the Shera