Outlaws. Part VI

     Narcisa had fallen asleep, curled in her blanket, and Amza had covered her bare feet with his lambskin coat. Now sleepy himself, he was leaning against the mossy tree trunk, while Murgu was crouching torpidly before him by the fire. The boyar spoke in low voice:

     “So tell me... why are you so eager to hang instead of doing something with your life? You love life, I can tell...”

     Murgu stared into the weakening flames:

     “You know how there's men who don't like to speak nor to say what they feel? You're right, I ain't like that; I like company, loud music, good cheer, I ain't afraid to speak my heart.” He bit his lip. “You know... before I took Narcisa with me, I was lonely. I felt so lonely that it hurt, like a wound in my chest. So lonely that I felt like screaming. And... sometimes I'd scream at the top of my lungs, shout at God, at someone... But nothing would happen. No one would hear,” he grimaced with dejection. “But I ain't a good man, like you said; I only saved you because I need company. Because... I want your company,” he lowered his eyes, but did not turn to look at Amza.

     “Then come with me, Murgu, and you won't be alone again.”

     The boy shook his head. “You don't know what you're saying. I'll always be alone.”

     “It's better in the West, you know,” Amza rubbed his palms above the fire to heat them, leaning above Murgu's shoulder. “I've always wanted to go abroad to Constantinople, Saint Petersburg, Budapest, Vienna, or Paris; just to travel, or perhaps even to study there to become a diplomat, like one of noble blood. I was never the studious type, as you can imagine, and without my family's connections no university would accept me now... but, you know, what if...? It would be quite an adventure, wouldn't it?” he raised his shoulders. “But Hungary, to the West through Transylvania, that's where we could go! After I help the outlaws with weapons and gold, restore authority in these parts, then I can leave with no regret.”

     Murgu's eyes glimmered as he smiled, enlivened:

     “I too heard about those towns in the North-West, of the fairs they have there, the carnivals! Freaks and animals, all in one place, living a happy life in the cheer of the crowds... I think I wouldn't mind that, and neither would my Sultana. Wouldn't you, girl?” he patted the bear's head thoughtfully. “Yes, she'd make a sensation, fancied with silk ribbons and golden bridles, like a real sultaness! We'll put up a show like Hungary has never seen before! For who tames bears better than us, gypsies?” Dreamily, Murgu sighed. As he was sitting on the ground, he leaned his head against Amza's knee. “Do you mean it when you say we could go?”

     Amza hesitated a moment at his gesture, but raised his shoulders. “Why not? I could find some work, you'll show off Sultana at the circus, and Narcisa can sing.”

     “This...” murmured Murgu with eyes shut tight, taking in a deep breath as if to savour the moment, “...this is the most beautiful dream...” His hand sought Amza's arm, sliding subtly upwards to his shoulder. “Amza...” he whispered, “thank you,” and caught the side of his neck in a soft grasp, gazing upwards in his eyes.

     But, at his touch, Amza suddenly jerked in shock, striking his hand away. He shot up to his feet and pushed the young man back brutally, a frown of confusion, anger and disgust in his face.

     “How dare you touch me?” he snarled. “What do you take me for!”

     Murgu jumped back, his mouth agape, his jaw trembling as his lips failed to utter a word, his chest heaving up and down in heavy hastened breathing. In his widened liquorice eyes, a tear was quivering like water in a bottomless well. His face was the mask of disappointment, shame and... pain.

     He grunted and pushed Amza back spitefully and, without a word, he sprinted off into the darkness of the woods. The bear trod heavily after him.