Dream - Gerome #12 GBE 2

Gerome #12   Dream

GBE 2 : Dream

The multi-colored beast crept along the tree tops.  Ever mindful of the people below, it crept closer and closer to the circle of Gypsies.  It’s movement obscured by the dense foliage and the rumble of thunder from an incoming storm. Rudolph and the crone unwittingly moved closer to the beasts location, it grinned the knowing grin of a predator.  The thing was nearly upon them. 

The crone whirled around with her arms widespread. “Zenia!  I see you received the invitation.  So good of you to join us.  Care for some tea?”  Nodding her head, a woman passing by quickened her pace towards the camp fire. At that the beast began its transformation. 

A swirling golden mist dotted with every color of the rainbow began a slow twisting dance around the beast.  Soon the mist was so thick the beast within was hidden.  Just as suddenly as the mist appeared, it disappeared.  Instead of the golden mist, stood a woman.  It was obvious she was beauty, in her day.  The bloom had long since passed with only the remnants of handsomeness left behind in her carriage.  Her graying hair only just showed the golden hue it had once been. The way she stood, the way she wore her clothing, the tilt of her head.  All these were tell tale signs that she had always been looked upon favorably and she had always know how to use her good looks to her advantage.

The crone stood with her hands on her hips. “Oh don’t look at me like that.  How many times have I told you?  You wheeze like a yeti coming down from the snow mountains.  Speaking of yeti, when was the last time you bathed?   Sister, realizing the honorific duties we have ahead of us, please take heed.  Rudolph, see to it that a bath is drawn, for my sister, right away! Come, sister, we can talk near the tea while your bath is readied.” 

Rudolph hastened to do his mother’s bidding.  As much as he was the King of the Gypsies, his mother the crone was the “ruler of the roost”.  She handed out her knowledge to any who would learn, he had learned enough to know when she meant business.

“Sister, the day has come.  We must undo some of our makings.  We must set these humans on their right paths, as we had planned all those years ago.”  Gingerly, the crone sipped her tea as her sister pulled a flask from her cape.  “Isn’t it rather early to be adding spice to your tea?”

“Not all spice is bad.  This is from the mountain tops of the Andes, a recipe handed down from generation to generation.  It is to assist in seeing the truth.  Quite literally just as a rainbow the levels of truth can be seen in a conversation.  Not that I don’t trust you sister, I just don’t trust you to tell me all.” Zenia tossed back her cup of tea as though she were taking a shot at the local tavern.  Sitting well back into her chair, she closed her eyes and leaned her head upon the back of the seat.

“As you can see, arrangements have been made.  We have much work to complete and very little time to do so.  The evil one has sent his emissary, I assume to attempt a stop to our work.  Although, this may simply be a diversion, I haven’t decided yet.  What say you? 

“I watched them as I dined.  They were cowered in the brambles. I made certain to drop tidbits around them.”

The angry mob of townsmen made their way to the Gypsy campsite.  The groused and grumbled as they walked, goading each other on.  “You know I’m the better card player, they used magic to beat me!”  “That gut-rot they called wine must have had some sort of potion in it!  I never would have asked June to marry me!”  “Twas the black magic that made me use all our seed money on their evil ways.”  The men grew bolder as they marched into the clearing.  The thunder claps became louder and louder as the storm drew closer and closer. The angry dark clouds seemed to mirror the attitude of the mob. Flashes of lightening illuminated the path as the mob made its way out of the village and towards the encampment.

The clan of Gypsies met the mob head on at the edge of their encampment.  The townsmen menaced with their pitchforks.  Just as it seemed they would come to fisticuffs, Lord Alfred and Lord Gorgan came galloping to the scene.  The crones arm darted out, holding her sister as she had begun to step forward.  The crone could smell the transformation magic as Zenia was about to become the beast again.  Lord Gorgan already had his sword unsheathed.  His steed seemed to dance about as the fog began to settle in.  It’s nostrils flared while it’s eyes rolled.  With a bellow, Gorgan began his advance towards the two old women when Lord Alfred grabbed the reins of his horse. The horse whirled about, adding dust to the dense fog that swirled about.

Sliding off his own horse to better hold the reins of Lord Gorgan’s, Lord Alfred bowed to the two women.  “We have questions.” To Lord Gorgan, “Cousin, sheath your sword.  They appear unarmed.  I would question.  If you slaughter them, I will lose any of their knowledge.” 

Alfred began to turn back to the two women when he was knocked off his feet.  The woman who had recently joined up with the Gypsy clan had not only knocked Lord Alfred down, but was straddling him!  “I have seen this in my dreams.  If you are to live through the next few moments, you must be cloaked with invisibility.  Between the fog and my skirts, the evil one knows not where you are.”

leigh