gypsy_(1)

My name is Isabelle. I was born in the back of a wagon near Budapest in the year 1478, though my family was not from that town. We are gypsys you see, we travel where we will and make a living where we can. Whatever others call us, we live by our own laws, the laws of the earth, and find our way where fortune takes us. This is the tale of how my new daughter, Selina, came into being. As I write this she is sleeping, and only two days old. I hope this will make things clear to my dear Father, for we are nearing Paris now…

Isabelle listened to the sounds of the birds in the trees as she made her way to the river in the early morning light. The air was crisp and cold, the late spring bringing a fine silver mist that seemed to chill her straight to the bone. She shivered and clutched the vessel tighter in her hand. She was never much of an early riser, but if she expected to learn anything about cooking, she had to help Loridana, the camp cook in her daily tasks. She reached the river and hiked up her skirt, exposing her slender brown legs to the cool mist. She was sixteen and quite lovely, with a very slender body, fair face and eyes that sparkeld like emeralds in the sun… But that was not what she was noticed first for. Her and her whole tribe came from India, and and her dark skin stood out like a sore thumb. She had learned to deal with it however, and even take pride in her differences. She was just kneeling to fill the jar when she heard some voices from across the small river. She suddenly felt afraid, they were camping near a village about two days from Paris, and the locals had not been as happy to see them as most. She arose and turned around, only to find a tall man standing behind her. “Hello pretty, getting some water for some of your potions are ya, ya little witch?” He said, his rank breath hitting her even at several feet. Two more men stepped out from behind the trees. “Na, she’s not old enough to be a witch! She’s just a little tramp!” Said one of the others. “You well broken in, ya little tramp?”
Isabelle began to panic and turned to the river when one of the men grabbed her and pulled her back from behind.
“I’m sure she is,” said the third “and a good thing too!