I came into the world as the son of a dancer named Keomi Boshengro of Kumpania Ari Bosh, and a Scandinavian lord-turned-rover named Turin Ulfsson. The Rom are usually exclusive, keeping to their own kind in such matters, but sometimes these things do happen between people. I do not know how they came to meet, or how they came to part.
I do remember peering out of the wagons at night after bed time, watching my mother and the other women and girls dancing in the moonlight at the fire, and falling asleep listening to the music and the drums. I eventually learned to drum too, as many of the older boys did, because then we could stay up late on party nights.
Maybe I should have told her I was leaving, but we'd had yet another fight. Our tribe was getting too large and quarrelsome to miss unwanted notice easily, and I was not favored among the relatives, being born out of wedlock as I was; so I left as soon as I had my first beard hairs and could claim to be a man and go my own way.
I set out to the North, more or less, in the Spring to find my father's people, and by Summer I met the chieftess Dulcinaya and her small clan. She said she knew my father from long ago - indeed I seemed to remember her as well, but as a younger child who I did not notice very often - and she recognized the Norse medallion that I wore, and still wear, that was his. She told me that Painted Wheel could use more defenders, and she offered to hire me on. Fall was coming and my progress North was too slow, so I accepted. The pay is a joke - barely enough to afford a pint at the Chalkman now and then - but their food and wine and company is always plenty and good, and what is gold anyway but one more step toward these, the finer things in life? Even by Romany standards I am not large, and I am only a fair swordsman on the best of days; I think she just wanted me to have an excuse to stay with them because I make her laugh, and because I would have probably gotten myself killed before I ever reached the north sea.
We were friends almost at once, it seemed very natural. At first, I thought to care for her, but her heart was elsewhere. I heard news that Ari Bosh was close by, and so I left again, to the West this time, to learn what I could of my mother, and perhaps my father. My clearest memory of him is his teaching me how to move the chess pieces in the shade of the wagons when I was a very small boy who could barely walk, and his booming laugh when I would get it right. He smelt of elderberries.
In my travels I discovered that he was some kind of noble, who took to the road when court life at home got complicated for him, and that there may be a claim of arms for me, perhaps even some land, or at least some kind of citizenship, should he return and recognize me as an illegitimate son. This I pieced together from some I met who knew of Kumpania Ari Bosh, but they had moved on and I never caught up with anybody.
I returned East and did catch up with Painted Wheel, knowing them as I did. Dulcinaya hired me back on immediately, but it is more than a job now. They have become my adopted family, and it has grown larger. (She calls me cousin, and in fact it may well be.) We have taken to performing "music" for the gadje, which makes us more welcome to them than when we used to just try to get through towns as fast as possible without being noticed. Though we do still have to sweep floors sometimes.
I fear I may be more valuable now as a drummer than as the bold young fighter I once thought myself to be.
Either way, I have been one of Painted Wheel ever since Dulcinaya found me that long ago Fall, and there is gray in my beard now. They feel like family more than Ari Bosh ever did. We have taken time to teach each other things, and even our music has improved a bit. Vosh is helping me to learn letters and numbers, and Kazimir and his brother Geldamar have been teaching me courtly manners. These things are useful when facing bailiffs and constables and sherriffs and the like. Even when unarmed and outnumbered, an educated man has more choices still than one who is not.
My father did return to his home and to his court, and I am now recognized as kin to his heirs. We were approached by Russians while busking somewhere in Italy, and I was presented with my Arms from the Czar himself! Perhaps my mother joined him. Perhaps she told them where to search for me. Perhaps he became sentimental in his later years and did it all on his own. Soon we will go to the Northern lands under his protection and find out, and that will be another story. I never hid my feelings about the nobility over the years, and I am now the butt of many good natured jokes within the Kumpania. Meanwhile, my rapier grows rusty and my arrows grow fewer, and Dulcinaya pretends not to notice.
By Lord Ivar Ulfsson
Kumpania Painted Wheel
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