In Search of Nibelungen part III

"It is time" Babushka said.

With those three simple words the caravan of the fabulous Tumbling Bouchikis turned West and crossed the Drachenburg mountains for the first time since the War of the Cross.

For my brother and I, it was an exciting time indeed. Neither of us had been to Eisen. The Fidelhi caravans had stopped touring the war-ravaged nation before we were born. I could tell from the gleam in Tonino's eyes that adventure awaited us, and I was more than a little concerned, for it seems that whenever my beloved brother sought adventure, we ended up in trouble. Or I should say I end up in trouble, for I am afraid I am not as clever or as quick as my talented brother.

Not that I begrudge his talent for a moment. Like the rest of my family, I marvel at his athleticism and prowess. Tonino is a dancer to behold, perhaps one day he will be the principal dancer for the Tumbling Bouchikis. It's just that he occasionally forgets that I, poor Pyorgi, am not quite as nimble as he, and sometimes it means we get caught in enterprises that land us in trouble. Particularly with the gadjo - they do not seem to understand us.

And if Tonino is the favourite son of the Bouchiki caravan, I am happy. In any case, for some reason Babushka favours me, and I cherish her for it. A story is told of when Tonino and I were four years old - even then Tonino was finding ways for us to get in trouble. The caravan had been camped at a small village near Siev for several weeks, and it was time to move on. It was mid-winter and snow was heavy on the ground. Tonino and I were playing sword-fights with throwing knives we had found near the wagon of Yuri, our master knife-thrower. Tonino spied a rabbit, as white as the snow, and with a whoop set off after it, calling for me to follow. I followed, but where Tonino lightly skipped across the snow-covered ground, I lumbered, and quickly fell behind. As the minutes past by, I could no longer hear my brothers cries, and had stupidly stopped following his footprints. I grew colder, and tripped in the snow hitting my head.

I can't remember any more of the story, but my father reminds me often of what happened. Tonino had only been away from the camp for a few minutes before returning with his prize, a freshly killed rabbit. He was roundly praised by his cousins, aunts and uncles. Such a clever boy! But Babushka came up and said "And where is your brother Tonino?" Tonino looked about, "He was right behind me...". At that time a freakish storm arrived, the children were bundled into the covered wagons, and adults went searching for me. Minutes passed in to an hour, and the storm grew heavier, until it was too heavy even for the men-folk to continue searching, and they returned to the caravan, hearts heavy.

My mother cried, and my father stood outside in the storm, calling my name, and calling upon Matushka to save me. I do not know if Matushka heard his call, but soon the storm abated, and my father and his brothers were about to resume the search when Babushka motioned for them to follow her, and she led them to a copse of trees some way distant. There they saw a large mother bear, with me in her arms. My father cried out, and began to draw his sword, but Babushka quickly motioned him to silence.

Babushka uttered a low growl, and the bear looked her in the eye, responding in kind. It seemed to my father that Babushka was speaking to the bear! Babushka walked calmly over and picked me up, the bear turned and ambled into the woods. I looked up into Babushka's face and smiled, and she set me down, whereupon I walked unsteadily to my happy father. He told me to pick up the knife, which was lying on the ground where I had left it. But I said quietly, "No - it is the bargain."

My father did not understand, but Babushka nodded grimly and we walked back to the caravan in silence.

I do not think I really understood at the time what it all meant, and even now, it is too much for me to fully comprehend, but Babushka has given me lessons, and I have since made other bargains.

A few years later it came time for Yuri to provide lessons in swordplay, Tonino jumped at the opportunity. Babushka arranged for me to get wrestling lessons instead.

And so now, we find ourselves here in Eisen, Tonino, the high-spirited dancer and Sarrack swordsman and me his twin brother Pyorgi, skilled Dobrynya wrestler with the Pyeryem talent. For twins, we are very different - it is odd that the gadjo think we are all alike!

As we travelled through the Konigreich of Hainzl, we received much acclaim, but there is so little we understand of the gadjo! And the Eisen gadjo seem even more incomprehensible than those of our native Ussura if that is at all possible. Babushka was deeply saddened by what she saw of the nation, "It used to be so beautiful here". The wandering groups of Waisen, so listless, made our hearts heavy.

One evening recently as we camped around the fire, Babushka made a startling announcement. "Tonino and Pyorgi will leave us soon."

"Impossible!", Tonino cried.

"Never!", I said.

"You must", replied Babushka, "For your own good, and the good of the caravan. One day soon, an opportunity for you to leave will come. You must take it, and see more of the world we live in. Try to understand the gadjo, and come back to us wiser men."

We were dumbfounded, the very thought of leaving our family, our lives.

Two days later, a straggling bunch of adventurers wandered into our camp. An Eisen noble led the party, a very grim fellow called Franz. He was accompanied by two Montaigne fellows with groomed moustaches. Very funny. Also, a Vodacce by the name of Giancarlo - I heard some giggling from my young cousins as he passed, it seems that his aspect was somehow appealing to the young girls The giggling immediately attracted the attention of one of the Montaigne, a fellow called Eduarde, who kindly donated the contents of his purse to them, not that he noticed! I certainly saw no reason to alert him to the fact.

He was indeed a strange fellow this Eduarde, as I introduced myself to him, he said "Ah, Piggy!", and smiled.

"No, Pyorgi", I corrected.

"Yes, Piggy!"

"No, no, PYORGI"

But he failed to understand, and continued to refer to me as "Piggy". I thought perhaps that I was a bit dull-witted, but it appears that Montaignes are even more so - they cannot even understand how to pronounce names correctly!

Later, my brother tells me that it is likely that Eduarde was having a little joke with me - pretending my name was "Piggy", like a little pig. Ha! Now I understand! Yes, I suppose that is very funny. I had not thought of that before, perhaps I am the dull-witted one after all!

"So, I should have a little joke back?" I asked Tonino.

"Yes", he replied, chuckling, "That would be an excellent idea. I'd love to see what happened when you insult him. Splendid!"

"So, I shall go and call him 'Wolf'."

"Ermm... Don't you think it would be funnier if you chose something that sort of sounded like 'Eduarde', you see his joke was funny because 'Piggy' sounds like 'Pyorgi'"

Ah, now I really understood just how funny Eduarde's joke was! "Yes, so I shall call him 'Spread-wad'!"

"Excellent idea!", said Tonino, walking away shaking his head.

It will surely be an excellent jest, I hope that Eduarde will think it very witty!

The company rested with us that evening, it appears that they had been in a tremendous fight that day - a number of their companions had been severely wounded and had returned to Freiburg. The next day, they were to head on to Hainzl, apparently to meet with some Nibelungen - the folk who make the fine armour that our new friend Franz wears.

We played music and danced through the evening, Giancarlo, Eduarde and the other Montaingean a fellow with the strange name of Dandelion (I had to check with Tonino to see if this was another joke) seemed to join in on the frivolity. However Franz remained rather dour, we were unable to bring a smile to his weary face.

Babushka took Tonino and I aside at the end of the evening. "This is the opportunity", she said "Go with these fellows and learn, and see if you can make this Franz fellow smile". We were saddened to suddenly be leaving the caravan, but we do not doubt the wisdom of Babushka.

So the next morning we left the caravan for the first time in our lives and headed to Hainzl with Franz von Tannen and his companions.

Late in the morning, we came across a roaring river, the only way across was a stone bridge. Standing on the bridge was a mounted warrior. "None Shall Pass", he bellowed.

Brief negotiations followed. Brief, because in most cases to whatever we said, he responded with his "None Shall Pass" phrase (perhaps he too is dim-witted). However, we soon established that in order to cross the bridge, one of us would have to best him in a duel.

Franz stood forward, and was somewhat disgruntled, as it seemed this fellow, who finally gave his name as Heinrich von Rittersdorf, was going to fight with the advantage of being on horseback and was a higher ranking guild swordsman than Franz, which Franz felt was against the duelling rules. I thought it was all very odd.

The battle commenced, and while it was obvious that Franz was a skilled swordsman, he was no match for von Rittersdorf, who Eduarde explained was a journeyman from the Posen swordsman school. This he could tell from the arrangement of guild badge pins and style of the way he fought. I was very impressed that one could tell all of this, perhaps this Eduarde is not such a fool after all.

Eduarde said "Well I suppose I had better be the one who takes this fellow out, as I am the ranking swordsman in the party". But the rest of us thought it would be quite jolly to leave Eduarde to last. To my chagrin, Tonino jumped up as Franz fell wounded, "Come on then, let's dance!" To his credit Tonino ducked and weaved a number of times, avoiding the wicked boar spear the horseman carried, but he was unable to land a blow of his own. And just when I began to hope that Tonino might prevail, the horseman caught him off balance, and the boar spear pierced my brother's thigh.

"Tonino!", I cried, and rushed to his aid. He quickly passed out from the pain. Dandelion and his servant, Ambrose, shooed me away, "We'll fix him up!", breaking out a surgeon's kit and tending to the wound.

"For my brother's honour!", I stupidly called out, as Giancarlo stood shaking his head. I readied myself, and awaited the horseman's charge. Boof! I didn't even get a chance to try to knock the fellow off his horse, as the butt of the spear knocked me to the ground, drawing blood. I too had lost.

Giancarlo followed, but he too was defeated.

"Ah very well", Dandelion said as he worked on Tonino's wound, "Off you go Eduarde - try not to hurt him too much!"

Eduarde bowed, and turned to the horseman, "En Garde!"

Eduarde's sword-play was a sight to behold, and even though the fellow was fighting with the advantage of being mounted, and wearing Dracheneisen armour, Eduarde's sword was up to the occasion, and soon found it's mark.

Dandelion and Ambrose were able to help Tonino to regain conciousness, and with a flourish of his hat, Eduarde directed us across the bridge.

In the afternoon, the wind began to pick up. A major storm was brewing. It was very cold, almost enough to make me put on a coat. As the storm began to reach a crescendo, we came across a small village. The storm was playing havoc; a wall had collapsed, a man cried for assistance from beneath it. Some young boys ran in fright away from the village. The rest of the villagers made their way towards the church, the most stable building in the village.

The horses began to rear, and alas, Tonino fell, hitting his head, and again was unconcious.

Giancarlo and I worked to free the trapped man. Franz and Dandelion gathered the spooked horses, then set off after the young boys. Eduarde helped Tonino to the church. Eventually we were able to get to the church, and the villagers were very grateful, the mothers of the boys, and the wife of the man thanking us profusely. We did our best to keep the spirits of the villagers up as the storm raged outside. Dandelion and Ambrose assisted the village hearler tending to wounds.

I pondered that this was our first night away from the caravan, and there before me was my brother, sorely wounded. And I had not got away scot free either. Was this an omen for our adventures? I hope not! They are good fellows Franz, Giancarlo, Dandelion and even Eduarde (I must remember my joke!), I am looking forward to their company over the coming weeks, just as long as we survive it!

But of course we must - we are the Tumbling Bouchikis!

Pyorgi.