The Gypsy Lad of Roumania/Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO.
When the meal was over, the tall peasant looked over toward the couch, and beckoned to Peter. The boy scrambled to his feet, and stood before his host.
“You are small,” said the peasant disapprovingly. Peter looked properly ashamed of it. “Nevertheless,” he went on, “you could learn to drive the oxen, and do many a small task about the fields. Would you work in the fields, boy?”
“Yes, master,” said Peter eagerly.
“Eat then, and rest with us,” said the peasant.
Peter went to the table thankfully. As soon as he had eaten, and had time to think, he began to feel rather proud that he was taken in by this family, who lived in a house and wore beautiful clothes of homespun, without any holes in them. He looked at stately Maria, the mother, spinning close to the lamp with an air of possession. She was now his mistress. Even as he gazed, she looked up and met his eyes.
“I will take care of Beauty for you while you work,” she said. “I will guard him carefully.”
“You are very good, boerasa,” he said. “I thank you with my heart.”
Peter cuddled down for the night with the family on the sheepskins. In the early dawn, he was aroused by Sabas, and trudged off to the fields with him and his sons.
The next two months were a turning point in Peter’s life. As a gypsy boy he was accustomed to idleness. Now he had to work hard from morning to night. But growing up in his heart was a strong desire to prove that he could be useful, and earn his bread. Once, when he was almost ready to give up, and steal away to the woods, Sabas spoke a word of praise to him in the field.
“For thy years,” he said, “I never saw so good a workman. You drive the ox as steadily as a man, and the creature likes you, I think, for he does your bidding as he does not mine.”
Peter’s heart swelled until he thought it would burst. “A good workman!” he sang to himself. “That’s worth while!”
On another discouraging day, Maria met him when he came home, and presented him with a gift. It was a homespun smock such as the men wore. And with it she gave him a sheepskin cloak. He felt very grand indeed. Very fine he looked when he had smoothed his black curls with a rough wooden comb, and had donned boots that Sabas made, and the gorgeous smock, and white sheepskin cloak.
“He looks well,” said Maria, with a bright look on her face.
“If he grows, he will do well enough,” said Sabas, “and I think he is getting taller.”
One day a messenger came running to the field where Sabas was at work. He said only two words, “The Turks.”
But Sabas turned the ox toward home, and drove it at a rate that surprised that slow animal. The boys ran along beside the cart. But when they had gone a little way, one lifted Peter into the cart, so he would not be left behind. They did not speak, and Peter looked at their faces in terror. He knew that something dreadful had happened. When he reached home, he found Maria hurrying to gather the food together. She looked less forbidding than the others, and he ventured to ask her what was the matter.
“The Turks are coming,” she said, “we must go to the mountains, or they will slay us.”
Peter helped Maria with the packing. The men were busy getting their weapons ready. Maria was more fortunate than some of her neighbors. She had the oxcart to carry a few of her possessions. Some of them could take only what they could carry on their shoulders. Soon the whole village was under way.
Maria had been regarding Peter thoughtfully, and at length spoke to her husband in a low tone.
“Yes,” said Sabas, “it would be better, for we know not what is before us.”
Then she explained to Peter that they thought it better that he should go on to a town that lay to the southwest. They would be in the mountains for some time, facing they knew not what hardships. He had been a good boy, and they knew where he could find a good home. He was to take a three days’ journey along the road that ran west. Then he would come to a village of tall houses. He was to ask for one Boerasa Helena, the wife of Fontanus. She was Maria’s foster sister, and when he said that Maria, the wife of Sabas, had sent him, she would be sure to take him in. “They are rich,” concluded Maria, “and you will not go hungry or cold with them.”
At first Peter protested, and begged to go along and share their hardships. But at length Maria said, “I command you, my son.”
So Peter hushed his protest. Maria gave him his best clothes, which he put on. When he was ready she handed him a bundle of food. She pointed out the way again. Sabas and the boys wished him Godspeed.
Then with his bundle over one shoulder and Beauty perched on the other, he started on his journey.
It proved more than a three days’ journey to the village. And one day Peter, himself, made a closer acquaintance with the terrible Turks than he desired. Fortunately he was traveling through a barren country, and the Turks were marching straight ahead instead of spreading out over the country. When he first heard the noise of their approach, he left the road, and hid among the wild growth on the hillside. Had they been scouting, Peter’s story would have ended right there. But they marched past and the boy lay safe. Three times he was obliged to go into hiding because of bands of Turks. At first he feared that the village might be no longer standing. But he soon realized that they were coming from the East. After awhile he crossed their trail and saw no more of them.
Five days passed before he completed his journey, and
He started on his journey.
on the last night, he lay in a soaking rain. So when he limped into the village he was a sorry-looking boy instead of the neat and trim appearing boy Maria had started out. He asked a boy where Helena lived, but was given a saucy answer, and a threat to set the dogs on him. A maiden coming from the village well with a pitcher on her shoulder, turned at his question.
“What will you with Boerasa Helena?” she asked.
Peter tried to make a proper bow before this beautiful maiden, but he failed for very weakness.
“Maria, the wife of Sabas sent me,” he gasped out.
“Then come with me,” she. commanded, “Helena is my mother.”
Peter followed thankfully. He had been afraid of these tall, fine houses, and of the people whom he saw in far grander clothes than those of the village he had left. But at the threshold, he sank down, unable to take another step. Boerasa Helena herself carried him in, and put him to bed. He was able to tell her that he came from Maria, and why he had been sent away.
“They bade me tell you that I was a good workman, and to ask if there was aught I could do to help you.”
“We will speak of that to-morrow,” said Helena. “I will bring you food now, and you shall rest.”
She brought him a great bowl of broth and bread, and hungry Peter thought it the best thing he had ever eaten. He fell asleep promptly, without hardly noticing his surroundings.
He awoke in the morning, feeling quite himself again. He heard no one stirring, so he lay still, and looked about for awhile. He was on a flat wooden couch with woven coverings instead of the sheepskins of Maria’s hut. The room was tall, and light. There were windows of heavy oiled paper. One casement stood quite open, and he could see the hillside at a distance. There were shepherds going to work and Peter stirred uneasily. He ought to be at work, too. At his movements, someone else stirred. The coverings on another bed in the room were agitated, and a very large young man lifted his head to say, “I see you are awake. How do you find yourself, young one?”
“I’m all right,” said Peter, “but isn’t it time to go to work?”
“I think so,” said the youth with a mighty yawn. “But the mother said you were to lie still until she came. She feared you were sick.”
The youth arose, and dressed. Peter obediently lay still until Boerasa Helena came to him. She looked at his clear eyes, felt of his head for fever, and decided he might rise. However, she told him he should stay at home and rest that day. She gave him his clothes, cleaned and brushed, and when he came into the family room, she looked at him with approval. He did not look like the beggar lad who had stumbled into the house the night before.
That day while he had nothing else to do, Peter examined his new home with growing wonder. Fontanus was one of the many rich and prosperous peasants of Roumania. Moreover, his family boasted descent from the Romans, instead of the mixed stock that has at times overflowed this little country at the gateway of Europe. These people of Roman descent form a kind of nobility by themselves. Fontanus was proud of his Latin name. His sons were called Justus and Aurelian, his daughter Tertia. He was proud of their fine Roman features, and of his stately wife.
The Fontanus family lived in a substantial house of two stories. Fontanus owned the fields he cultivated, and many flocks and herds besides. Helena had maidens from poorer peasant families to help her and Tertia in the house, especially with the enormous amount of spinning and weaving that a household like hers demanded.
If Peter had really been of low descent, he might not have adapted himself to his new surroundings. But he had a quick mind and observant habits. So he was able to watch and do as the others did.
The next day, Peter went to the fields with the men. Fontanus gravely approved of him, and Peter felt more at home. He had an intense desire to prove himself a good workman. Some day he meant to own a field, and house, and cattle of his own.
But even in this beautiful and rich town the times of peace were not to last.