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Written and copyrighted entirely and solely to C.L.S.Copyright (c)
1997
Crystal would like to hear any comments you have in regard to her story.
Please contact her at Roadrunner@coastnet.com
I had to make a decision. Run or fight? The men came nearer, fight or run? Clopin’s mouth opened in surprise, run or fight? People screamed, fight or run? The whole scene seemed to happen in slow motion. All my life I had been told to avoid trouble. It would just get you killed, they said. It’s better to lay low and let them do what they want, take what they want, hurt who they want. We’re just gypsies after all, what could we do?
“We can’t fight them, if we’re quiet they leave us alone. Don’t make the same mistake I did, you can’t win. I found that out the hard way.”
Oh father! I thought angrily, what do I do now?
What do I do when they don’t leave me alone? I looked at the men who were
getting nearer quickly. Hatred burned in their eyes. Their faces were contorted
by anger. What did I ever do to invoke such feelings?
“Don’t let them get away!” Yelled one of the
soldiers, his words broke into my thoughts. Get away to where? I thought.
Back to hiding? The Court of Miracles was a beautiful, huge place. But
it was still a hiding place. It was like we were in a giant game of hide-and-go-seek,
only gypsies were always hiding and everyone else was always “it”.
Something happened to me just then. The world came into perspective, life came into perspective. I knew this wasn’t right. Gypsies shouldn’t be hated and feared and treated like trash just because we’re different. It wasn’t right, but we took the abuse anyway. Well not anymore!
Fire flared up from my heart, anger coursed through my veins, and courage gave me strength to control it all as I pulled my knife.
A hand grasp my arm. “Jes! Let’s get out of here!”
Clopin said insistently, with a tug.
“No.” I told him steadily. “I’m taking a stand.”
His hand dropped and I gave him a quick glance. He looked into my eyes
and I knew he saw the fire burning there. I turned back to the two soldiers
and stared steadily at them. They reached us and threateningly held there
swords out.
“Gypsy, you are under arrest.” His voice was mean,
with an undertone of disgust. He looked into my eyes and then away.
“What are the charges?” I asked cooly. He looked
startled.
“Umm.. helping a convicted fellon escape.” He
answered finally. His eyes darted from Clopin to me as if he expected us
to attack at any moment.
“Convicted? I wasn’t aware she had a trial.”
My voice was even, controlled.
Surprised his lips twisted into a sneer. “Gypsy
scum doesn’t need a trial.” My eyes hardened and I squared my jaw. Slowly
I pulled out my knife. “Don’t you ever call gypsies scum again or I’ll
cut out your throat.” I didn’t raise my voice, but the soldier took an
involentary step backwards. “And another thing, you really need to work
on your tracking skills. I could see you a mile away.” His face turned
bright purple and he lunged forward at me. I ducked his sword and swung
my knife. It hit his side and he yelled.
Clutching his side he cried, “Don’t just stand
there! Get her!” The other soldier move in closer and watched me with darting
eyes. He didn’t get close enough for my knife to do any damage. Instead
he stayed an arms length away and watched for my move.
“Let’s go Jes!” Clopin cried frantically. He
grabbed my arm. At that moment the man swung. I tried to jump back but
Clopin’s grip stopped me from doing so. I watched helplessly as the blade
cut into my shoulder, searing pain flew through my body like ice and I
saw blood dripping to the ground.
“Not so tough now, gypsy scum?!” He yelled feriousiously,
coming in for another swing.
“Wait.” The watching soldier called. “We don’t
want to kill her. Frollo wants her alive.” He laughed suddenly. “After
all, you can’t hang a dead gypsie.” The other man laughed too and grabbed
me. I tried to run but his grip was like iron.
“Run Clopin!” I shouted. “Run.” His eyes darted
to and fro. He didn’t want to leave me but there was nothing he could do.
With a grimance he took off towards the exit and was soon lost among the
crowds.
Half unconcious from the lack of blood I was dragged to the Palacae of Justice. I could see it’s dark form even with my eyes almost closed. We entered and the door banged shut, it was very dark and quiet.
“Let’s get her down to the prison.” One soldier
told the other. “We’ll hang her in the morning.”
I struggled again at the word prison but my wound
was deep and every breath brought extream pain. My head hurt and I think
my arm wound had opened up again. Exhasted I let them toss me onto a hard
floor. A loud crash followed as the door was swung shut, then footsteps,
then nothing. I was alone.
End of Chapter Eight
On to One Fine Day In Paris Ch 9
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In Paris Ch-7