Prologue Four children detached themselves from the gypsy camp that was being set up. Some of their elders shouted half-heartedly at them to come back and help, but it was of not much use, for they had already melted into the forest. "Little fox cubs," an old woman said in the German tongue, her hair white with the bleach of age, wearing a red hood-like scarf that covered her scalp, grizzled, wrinkled hands clutching a worn staff, and watched them go, "Away at the hint of work, always here to play." "Aye," the elder who had shouted sighed as he led away two of the horses that pulled their bright painted wagons, "Still it is good luck that the police allowed us to stay here." He looked reflectively at the lush grass meadow, with the stream that snaked through it with glittering coils. "It is a good reflection on their part." The old woman smiled a mirthless smile. "No end of good reflections will wash away the holocaust," she stated, "And no end of 'understandings' will take away our culture. Horseless carriages* they may call progress, but I call it a pity." The elder nodded, as if he was used to this voiced opinion, and tied the horses to a hammered stake on a long rope to allow them to graze, affectionately patting their thin sides as he removed their collars and straps. The old woman turned her gaze to the four English gadjos that had been taking 'videos' of their camps and their 'lifestyles'. They were good men, and the leader of their small tribe had agreed to the publicity the gadjos would bring. More importantly, the authorities allowed them to set up at better places when the gadjos were along with them. She stared back at the forest where the 'little foxes' had disappeared, then hobbled back to the cluster of wagons. ** "Gypsy is a way of life, while the people call themselves Roma, or Romany people," John Sinclair spoke to the camera, with a background of the camp being set up, "Non-Romany people are called commonly as 'gadjos'." Neuman Andrews adjusted the video camera for a zoom on the camp while John continued his dialogue. The other two of the team, Larry and Richard Green busied themselves with the rest of their equipment. Some of the Romany children had wandered up behind Neuman to watch with wide eyes the videotaping of the camp. Larry, who enjoyed attention, was explaining to them in his fluent German, sotto voce, about how the videotaping process worked, while his brother Richard continually tried to hush him. Neuman and John finally stopped, and Larry raised his voice to his small audience, who had turned their hypnotic dark eyed stare to his face. "I wonder whose wagon that is," John gestured to a pine-green wagon, that stood a solitary vigil near the unspoken edge of the gypsy camp, a blue roan mare of interminable breed grazing placidly outside it, collar and harness straps still on. "Does any of you fine kids know?" The children stared at him until he sighed and unearthed a few all-important coins. Still they made no answer until at some cue a boy was pushed out of the group as voted spokesman. "Wagon of Tarot lady," he said shyly. "Tarot lady?" the four shot each other glances. This could be important. It was probably a child's name for another yet unknown 'occupation' or niche in a gypsy community. "Reads tarot cards," the boy's voice dropped inaudibly as his eyes darted around, "Can tell future, can cure with herbs." He looked pleadingly at John for a signal to stop on what was probably a private subject. Or rather, at John's coins. "Why didn't anyone tell us?" Richard wondered aloud. "They didn't tell us anything in the first place," Neuman said dryly, "Except lots of rules on behavior." "Does she take visitors?" Richard asked the boy. He looked at his companions for support, then nodded. "But she doesn't like to," he said hastily. "Is there something wrong with her?" Larry asked conspiratorially. Richard rolled his eyes behind his brother, and some of the children giggled. "She married German gadjo after War. Lived in war, has numbers on hands." the boy said reluctantly when John increased the number of coins. "We didn't see any..." Neuman began, but John cut him off. "Former tarot lady took her in as successor when tribe found her in snow. She run from German gadjo," the boy stuttered, "Elders told us this," he said defensively at Richard's expression. John, seeing he'd probably get only more second hand, ambiguous information from the boy, distributed the coins and the group left squabbling over them. "Odd, that," Neuman said. "Why a Romany, let alone a Romany woman would marry a gadjo, when she probably knows the penalties." "Isolation and disowned by her tribe," Richard agreed, "But what strikes me is that this tribe accepted her back in." "Not exactly," Larry corrected, "We haven't seen her, I think." "In the war," John murmured, "Why, she must be more than seventy years of age now." "That's probably one of the reasons," Neuman said in a lecturing voice, "They respect the survivors of the death camps. Hence the bit of numbers on her hand, or arm, probably." "We'd do well to see what he meant about 'tarot'," Larry said. "Might as well call on her now," John said impulsively. "They may not view her speaking with more gadjos kindly," Richard said dryly, "Even if it's been several decades." "We're videotaping gadjos," Neuman grinned, "They don't mind us poking around...I think." "Fine," John decided, and led them to the pine-green wagon. Neuman muttering an oath as he moved his video camera on wheels forward, and Richard and Larry bringing up the rear with the rest of their equipment. Tarot cards had always been one of the 'items' associated with Romany gypsies, and they were curious as to how it was actually used. It usually was the object of great superstition, and this 'tarot lady' seemed to play the part of a 'medicine man' from stereotypical North American Indian tribes. Some of the gypsies paused to watch them go, then congregated in a small, muttering group before agreeing on something and promptly ignored the four and the wagon. [*Horseless carriages are better known as cars.]