Revelations: How a Scot Turns into a Gypsy (Story)

How does one cope with learning that your entire life was a lie? Why by not coping with it of course. And not coping with it was exactly what the Scot named Maon Kincaid...excuse me, Emilian Maon DeRazia-Morel, Romani gypsy, was doing. And how exactly does a Scot, no wait, an Irish Gypsy who thought he was a Scot, not cope with such a revelation? He breaks things of course, and right this second the dark haired man was breaking a chair over some poor drunk's head.

The impact rattled Maon's bones and he growled as he tossed the broken pieces of the bar chair to the floor and shook his arms, grimacing as the sting remained in his muscles. He didn't have time to dwell on that as a moment before it was supposed to connect, Maon's sharp green eyes caught sight of the meaty fist that was headed right for his (thus far) unbroken nose. He reflexively bent his body to the left causing the blow to hit him in the shoulder, the punch had enough strength behind it that it spun him around a bit, and this only enraged him more. He really was a little too drunk to be fighting with anyone especially a man that had at least a hundred pounds and a few inches on, Maon's tall wiry frame. Balling his long fingers into a fist Maon reared back, but before he could he could get his fist any farther than his shoulder the same meaty hand that had left it's mark on his shoulder crunched into Maon's previously perfect Romanesque nose, effectively ending the fight and Maon's consciousness.

Two burly men stood over the unconscious Maon and glared down at him before unceremoniously picking him up by his arms and legs and hauling him to the door. Heedless of the rain they kicked the door open and with a silent countdown they swung him, and then with a grunt literally threw him into the filthy muddied road in front of the Inn.

The cold rain combined with landing with a disgusting squish-splat as he landed in the filth served to jostle Maon out of his stupor with a groan. "Bloody 'ell" He growled, sitting up he spat blood out of his mouth and touched his nose tenderly cursing as the pain shot up through his eyes and rebounded around his head. "sledge 'ammer is what 'it me, I be sure of it." He said, ignoring the rain that was washing away the blood that ran from his nose and put both his hands against his nose and with a sound that can't really be describe he straightened his nose grunting as he swayed on the verge of passing out. Fortunately, or perhaps not so fortunately he didn't pass out and so he stood, emitting a few more curses as he struggled to right himself in the slippery mud.

Finally standing he spat out more blood that had come from his nose and made a very obscene gesture towards the Inn. "I didnae want to stay 'ere any'ow." He muttered turning away from the establishment not bothering to try and shield himself from the rain, it was a bit too late for that anyway. Now if only the rain would wash away all the mud and smelly filth he'd been tossed into, but as his luck was running short he really doubted that the forced cold shower would do him much good. He continued to trudge on through the rain, oblivious of the fact that he was crossing the border of one Scottish county into another.

Hours later through the haze of rain Maon saw ghostly lights far ahead, relieved he picked up his pace wanting nothing more than a hot fire and another drink. The smog of alcohol that he'd had before being tossed into the rain had melted away several miles back and he was grumbling about it. Without the hindrance of the libation, there was nothing to stop him from re-living the horrible moments in which he found out that everything he was and had lived as was no more real than Jah most worshiped.

The clouds had rolled in long before the sun could rise to it's zenith, casing a pall over the day, yet causing the greens of the fields and tress to darken, standing out sharply against the heavy clouds that promised a long rain. He'd woken expecting something, even dreading it though he couldn't understand why. Maon rose from his bed and dressed before going into the main room of the modest house. Wrapping his arms around the woman who was standing at the fire cooking breakfast he smiled. "Morning màthair." (mother)

The woman smiled and patted his hand, glad that her son could not see the hidden tension in her green eyes. As Maon let her go and set about the morning chores she superstitiously wiped a tear from her eye. Today her child would be twenty-five and today she would fulfill a promise she'd made to his father nearly twenty years ago, a vow she'd made just before he'd been killed. She would tell him of their history. A dark history that she would much rather forget. With the death of her mother only months ago Kizzy was unwilling to chance that she would live to reach her sixties, in fact she knew she would not. It was only a matter of time before the sickness inside of her claimed her life. No she had to tell him before she was gone. Because she knew they were out there and would welcome him with open arms. At least she hoped they would.

Realizing that Maon had gone outside to tend to the animals, Kizzy quickly set the table and plated the generous breakfast. Then going to a cabinet and shuffling around it for a moment she took out a small bag of grain and a sweet cake that she had baked the day before. Setting the cake on the table she reached into the grain bag and withdrew, not grain but wide banded ring. Engraved all the way around the band was an intricate and ornate peacock feather, the biggest part of it was the eye of the feather, inside , the detail rather exquisite and clear for such a piece and and if one tilted the ring they would see a name engraved on the inside of it, it was clear that as much detail had went into the name as the design. A name that hadn't been spoken for twenty-five years. Kizzy studied the pendant for a moment before laying the ring ontop of the sweet cake,positioning in such a way that the name could not be seen.

Just as she did so Maon returned. Washing his hands in a bowl beside the door he wiped his hands on a piece of linen and walked over to the table sniffing the air. "Mmmm you didnae 'ave to do anythin' special fer me." He said rather brusquely knowing that his mother could not afford such luxuries. That was when he noticed the ring. His brow furrowed and he reached for it, but Kizzy's hand touched his and she smiled up at her much taller son. "Not yet, first eat and then I have a story to tell you."

The memory faded as Maon stopped in front of another Inn, this one was larger than the last and the sign read. "Glass for Glasgow." Maon shook his head, the names of some of these taverns where horrible, they really were. Shrugging he entered the warm building and stopped inside the door letting his eyes adjust to the sudden light.

Selah laughed and the musical sound washed over the four men at the table causing them to glare at the dark skinned woman, all in various stages of drunkenness. She pulled the paper and coins towards her with an elegant sweeping gesture, the coins clinked and tinkled like wind chimes as they fell into her leather purse. She had just won another round of cards, and was steadily taking every pound and pence from the poor sods before her. As she picked up the paper money and folded it neatly, she tucked that too in her purse and then tied it securely before letting her ebony eyes lift to face the four very angry men. "Come now my loves, tis only a game." She said her full lips turning up at the corners into a smile. Still the men didn't smile in fact that looked like they were getting angrier by the second. She searched each man's gaze as the tavern door opened and what she saw there made her own smile fall from her face, replaced by a deep frown. Well, this wasn't going as expected...

Everyone at the table was still, the men were waiting for Selah to move and Selah knew better than to provoke them anymore. She wasn't afraid of them, she'd plied them with enough drinks that by now she could out wit them and probably out fight them without getting a single scratch on her smooth, flawless skin. But Gianna would not be happy if a brawl broke out here because of her, a fight that had the militia come in could cause problems for their...trading...trip here in Scotland. Her lips pursed as she thought of her brunette counterpart. No, Gianna wasn't going to be happy that she'd snuck off The Devil to play a bit of cards, in fact she was probably going to be furious.

So intent on not moving and staring down her opponents that she didn't bother to look at the new arrival, she had heard him enter and though she longed to glance over to see what he looked at she quelled the feeling, she had more important things to do right now than to scope out a new target...at least for the moment. And then, of course the moment changed and it was lightening fast.

In a blink of her kohl lined eyes the four men stood and flipped the table, scattering cards in every direction. Before the table could settle upside down onto the floor Selah was out of her chair and several feet away from the angry miners, she had been heading for the door, intent on leaving the tavern before they could even understand what was going on. But instead of reaching the door she ran right into the man that had entered. Startled she let out a short squeak and looked up at her, her ebony eyes widening and her heart skipping as she looked up into dark green eyes. "Oh my." She said a little surprised at how good he looked compared to the men she'd been flirting with all night. But she didn't have time to think about or regret it. Instead her hand rested on his hip and she gave him a frightened look. "Don't let them follow me." She pleaded in her most innocent voice, before darting around him and out of the door, disappearing into the Scottish night a wicked grin on her lips as she opened her hand to finger the ring she had pulled from his pocket.

His green eyes wandered over the dirty interior of the Inn, noting nothing remarkable about it. It was like many other Inns that he'd been in over his life. Dirty and permeated with the smell of body odor and stale alcohol. The patrons of course were just as typical, there was a slumped shoulder man in the middle of the room, snoring on the table clearly passed out from drink. There was a table surrounded by miners playing cards and by the looks of several of them they were losing badly to a woman. Maon took a step forward then his green eyes snapped back to the table, drinking in the sight of the woman with skin the color of cocoa. Despite his mood his lips curled in a smirk. It was clear by the looks on the faces of the men that she was taking everything they had and then some.

Uncaring of what she might he let his eyes wander over her figure, mentally approving of her tightly fitted attire. He was thinking she would make a nice bed warmer when there was a crash and the table was turned over by the men, they were clearly not going to take their losses like gentlemen. Maon turned and stepped towards them, but stopped as the woman ran into him. His green eyes darkened and his smirk grew as he met her beautiful dark eyes. "Indeed." He responded to her startled reply suppressing a shiver at her smooth voice that washed over him like warm water on a cold day. His wet and bedraggled condition was forgotten as he was distracted by her hand on his hip and her warm body so close to his. The look she gave him didn't help matters any. He was about to grab her arms when she slipped around him and out the door. Cursing he turned to follow her he was not going to let her out of his sight that easily.

But of course fate had other ideas. Four very angry drunk men were following her. With a frustrated sigh Maon gave the first one a round-house hit to his jaw causing the man to hit the floor twitch once and lose consciousness. It was hard to believe that he had gotten into one fight today and here he found himself in another...all because of women. He growled and grabbed a man that was a bit smaller than himself and shoved him into the wall, dazing him enough that he slumped to the floor. That left too more, and his luck had run out apparently, because he felt a fist connect with his stomach doubling him over as the breath was pushed out of him in a whooosh. Maon coughed and cursed and used his weight to charge into the man throwing him back onto a table, effectively ending the mans fight and before he could turn on the other one he heard a bottle shatter and turned to see that the drunk who had been sleeping had woken and just ended the fight, before slumping over with a goofy grin and passing out again. "Well..." cough "that was interesting."

He of course remembered the girl, and turned rushing out the door back into the rain, but it was too late she was gone. Maon cursed, he really would have liked taking her to his bed that night. He shrugged and turned back to the Inn, if he could not have the woman he might as well have a drink. Trudging through the Inn he ignored the men that were on the floor, rolling his eyes. Two fights in one day, his mother would scold him good for that. Sitting on a stool at the bar he ordered a big mug of rum and took a long drink of it before setting it down on the counter and wrapping his hands around it. Thinking of his mother made him think of that morning...

Maon sat raising his eyebrow at his mother but sat out of respect and didn't touch the ring that was on the cake though is fingers itched to see it. What he could see without touching it made it clear that it was expensive but it didn't look new either. Shaking his head he looked up as his mother sat, and they both began to eat. The food was good, fresh eggs, fried ham, bread with cheese and cool goats milk. Yes the food was delicious a meal fit for a birthday he supposed, though he still thought that his mother shouldn't have went through so much trouble for him.

Kizzy watched her son eat and enjoy the meal and smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. She could not deny that she was worried about his reaction. Maon had always been a bit volatile when he was betrayed and she knew that he would feel that he had been betrayed, he was her son and she knew him too well. No, he would not feel grateful to her or his father for what they had done. But there was nothing she could about that now. She could only keep her vow and hope that he would one day understand why they had done it.

She watched him sit back and knew the time had come, she let out a slow breath, stalling if only for a moment before she entwined her fingers and starting to speak. "My son, the time for bed time stories has passed, the story I am about to tell you happened long ago, when I was young, younger than you are now. Young and newly wed, awaiting the birth of our first child." She paused and held up her hand as he looked like he was about to speak. "I ask that you don't interrupt me, this is hard enough as it is." Maon nodded once, acknowledging his mother's request.

Kizzy continued, her pale green eyes growing distant as she remembered the past. "Your father and I are Gypsy's, DeRazia-Morel Gypsy's to be more specific. We were born and raised as Gypsy's in Ireland. My mother was a healer in the clan, and a good one. You know little about them I'm afraid and sad to say." She paused and sighed regretting now the decision she had made twenty-five years ago. "Twenty-five years ago our Efta Curaco Kralisi, our Queen, ruled us, but she was afraid for her throne, paranoid that someone would steal it. She did an awful thing, she had a young girl killed so her father would come and take his sister, a girl who could have been Kralisi, away from the Gypsy's and he did. No one found out about it right away. But the bandits that she hired turned on her, and revealed her secret." Kizzy stopped, her eyes tearing up as she remembered the horrible time. She had lost all respect and loyalty for the Kralisi, the respect had turned to fear and the loyalty to anger. It had been a terrible time, and it had been painful to watch Jenibelle's mother deal with the lose of her daughter. "My mother, a widow by that time made a choice, and we followed her. She left the clan to live here in Scotland, the birthplace of my father. You were not born yet, and before you were born we decided that we would raise you as Gaje, a non-Gypsy. And we have done that, to your determent. " She dared not look up at Maon now as she continued. "We Gypsy's have three names, Our Gypsy name, our secret name that only the mothers know, unless there is a need for it to be known, it's never to be spoken though. And then there is our Gaje names. Your name is Emilian Maon Kincaid DeRazia-Morel, you are a Gypsy, not a Scot. And your clan resides in Ireland, the current Kralisi is Emerzsi Lilymay, I have kept up with them as best I can, you will need to go to them one day." Kizzy stopped then and looked up wincing at the pain and anger on her son's face. Standing she picked up the ring and took his hand gently in hers. "This ring is your birthright my son. Engraved on it is our clan crest, our symbol. On the inside is your gypsy name."

Kizzy didn't expect him to jerk his hand away as she pushed the ring onto his finger, but he did, she had expected his anger, but she had not expected his rejection of her. The pain shot through her heart as he stood, looking at her like she was a stranger and then without a word he turned and left. It was all too much for the older woman and she crumbled to the floor of the small cottage sobbing, unsure if her son would ever return home to her.


Maon picked up his mug and lifted it to his mouth but found that it was empty with a growl he banged it down onto the bar and asked for more. He felt the guilt of leaving his mother like he had, but she had just took his entire life from him! He was not a Scot, he was a Gypsy, an Irish Gypsy at that. And he knew nothing about his people. Maon had always wondered why they had no other family, why his parents and grandmother had never really participated with their neighbors, now he knew, and he was angry. The only thing he understood right now was that they had stolen a way of life from him. He was supposed to be not a Scot, but a Gypsy, and they had stolen that away from him, and though he loved his mother with all of his heart he just didn't know if he could forgive her.

How long he sat there staring into his empty mug oblivious to everything but his own thoughts, he wasn't sure, and didn't really care. There were people out there, across the sea on the green isle that, although not blood family, were family all the same. Maon wasn't entirely ignorant to the Gypsy culture as his mother thought. Every year there was a band of Gypsy's that trekked through their small town, hiding in the forest away from prying eyes. Maon had stumbled upon them while still in his teens, and his curious, friendly nature had helped him make several friends. They never stayed long, less than a month. But whenever he could spare a moment away from the farm he went to them. Eager to learn about their way of life.

Maon snorted, understanding now why he was so drawn to the travelers and their mysterious and complicated way of life. It was in his blood, being a Gypsy was in his blood. The thought made him smile slightly and an odd feeling of peace settled over his spirit. Aye the Gypsy way was by far a harder way of life than Gaje, with their traditions and superstitions, but they were a tight knit group, and loyal. He would belong with them...if they would accept him, he did after all have proof that he was one of their own. Thinking of the Maon stuck his hand in his pocket where he'd put the ring earlier after he'd left his mother. It took only a moment for him to realize that the ring was gone. He cursed loudly and stood, searching all of his pockets and coming up empty handed. He frowned trying to figure out how he could have lost it. It was likely that he'd lost it when he had been thrown out of the first tavern, but he doubted it, the ring wasn't really small and light enough for that.

Then he remembered the girl and the way her hand had rested on his hip. He cursed again, having no doubt that, that is what happened. Now what was he supposed to do? He had no way of finding her, no way of even knowing who she was. He had already asked the bartender if he knew her and he'd said that he hadn't. Maon blew out a frustrated breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Well, he would just have to find it...He stood there for a moment before deciding that he'd rent a room for the night and go search the town in the morning, that was the only thing he could think of. If he couldn't find her, he would return to his mother, he would decide what to do after that when the time came.

Maon rose with the sun and left a few coins on the bar before he departed, glad to see that the miners he'd fought the night before were gone. Stepping outside he breathed in the salty air, glad that it was not raining. Then he headed off towards the town, he would find the girl...he hoped. He searched every shop, every tavern and tried to search the docked ships but he didn't find the beauty that had stolen his ring. He had learned that she had arrived on ship and that only gave him a sinking feeling that she was probably gone, because ships arrived and left everyday. Maon spent several days in the town, looking for her before he finally acknowledged that he wasn't going to find her. Angry with her and with himself he finally headed back home.

He arrived at his mother's house just before sunset to find her pale but waiting for him with open arms. He hugged her and offered her his apologies, but she insisted that it was her who should be sorry, she'd made a mistake and knew that. Maon wasn't surprised that his mother had dinner ready for him, and he felt ashamed to know that she had probably had dinner waiting for him every night since he'd been gone. And though his mother looked disapprovingly at his two black eyes, she said nothing, what could she say? Her son was a grown man and if he wanted to fight she couldn't stop him.

Maon didn't talk much in the next few days he went about his daily chores even as he planned what to do next. He hadn't told his mother that the ring had been stolen, he didn't want to add to her heartbreak, because he knew that the piece of jewelry was important. It was almost two weeks after he learned of his History when he announced to Kizzy that he was going to be leaving for Lios Mor. She accepted the news with surprising grace, and even seemed happy about his choice, though she would miss him fiercely, and when she told him that he'd laughed at her. "Maither, I'll not be leaving you here....you're coming with me." He held his hand up against her protests. "There's nothing here for you, Father's gone, Grandmother too...and I can't take care of you if you are not with me, now can I?" His tone told her that he wouldn't budge on this matter, and secretly she was excited to return to her home, though she was more than a little nervous to be close to the The Efta Curaco Kralisi.

And so with surprising speed they sold the farm, and gathered the few things that they wished to take with them, and almost three months after he had learned of his origins both Maon and his mother Kizzy was on a ship to Ireland, what the green isle held for them, he wasn't sure, but the adventure of it excited him, and he knew that whatever would come he was doing the right thing.

  Jul 23, 2012