Madeline Sheehan - The Soul Mate

Bulgaria, 1056 A.C.E.

“ The screaming has stopped Emilian. Time to go.” Ferka gestured toward camp where Zora Petulengro’s brutal birthing screams had since seemed unending. Emilian had never been so thankful before that he’d been born a boy.

He had no desire to go back to camp even though a few minutes ago he’d felt the sudden urge to run straight there, straight to… that baby.

That baby, that little girl that was to become his. No, she was already his. She had been given to him, as a gift of sorts. They would be bound together as soon as he could muster up enough courage to make his feet move. She would become his bride when they were of age and eventually bear his children.

He closed his eyes. His soul mate. He’d scoffed at his tată and mami when they’d spoke to him of this foretold prophecy. How could a seven year old have a soul mate? How could he have a soul mate?

But Emilian wasn’t just any seven year old. He was the first born son of Baró Gavril Drágon, the leader of their Romani Clan, who already had more magic than his full grown tată. Magic that would grow too powerful for any one man to contain, without going mad. He would need to have an outlet, a vessel with who to share his gifts with. Which was where this baby came in.

“ You look green friend, but methinks you better go before the Baró comes looking for you himself.”

Ferka was right. Green or not, the wrath of Baró Drágon was indeed something to be feared, especially if you were his son. Dragging his heals in the dirt Emilian began to walk slowly back to camp.

“ Where have you been, you cowardly little fleabag?!”

Emilian winced as his mami grabbed him by the ear and yanked him in the other direction toward Zora and Boldo’s wagon.

“ You were supposed to be close!” He didn’t answer her; he knew no answer was good enough for Violca Drágon when she was angry.

As his mami dragged him across camp much to the amusement of the entire clan, Emilian could only stare longingly toward where the horses were tied. Wishing he could yank free of his mami’s hold, grab a horse and be gone from here forever.

Boldo thrust open the small wooden door of the wagon as they reached the steps, his large overbearing frame dwarfing the entire structure. The look of disfavor on the large man’s face belied any happiness Emilian thought the man might have had for the birth of his new daughter.

Cowering beneath Boldo’s simmering glare both he and his mami slipped into the wagon and approached his tată. Lying on a pallet of rushes in the corner, Zora was holding a tiny bundle in her arms. Zora looked exhausted, covered in sweat with small bruises under her eyes. A pile of bloodied rags lay near a bucket of equally bloodied water.

“ Come here Emilian” Zora said hoarsely, a strained smile on her face. “You must touch her; make her yours, so there will never be another.”

Ignoring the dark penetrating gaze of his tată, the anxious stare of his mami and Boldo’s disapproving glare, Emilian instead focused only on Zora, the only person who was treating him with any sort of kindness.

On skinny shaking legs he knelt down beside her, waiting with bated breath as she unwrapped the small bundle pressed tightly against her breast. A tiny head covered in black fuzz appeared along with an even tinier fist. The babe was sound asleep.

“ Wake up, love.” Zora stroked her daughter’s cheek. The baby blinked sleepily a few times and opened her mouth in a toothless yawn. Emilian fought the urge to smile. Just because she was adorable didn’t mean he had to like her. Then she opened her eyes wide and the entire group gasped.

“ Green?” Violca squawked.

“ What does that mean?” Boldo demanded of the Baró. No Roma had green eyes. They had varying shades of brown, some almost black, other’s had hazel or even caramel colors but not a blue or a green among them, it was simply unheard of. Gavril stared at the tiny girl as a smile began to spread across his face.

“ She is perfect my friends do not fret for green represents balance, harmony and stability, everything that Emilian will need. She is everything we could have hoped for.”

This answer seemed to delight the parents. Violca however continued to study the baby with narrowed eyes.

“ It is time.” Gavril lowered himself down on one knee, Violca and Boldo following. Together they said the proper Romani blessing over the two children, binding them together in love, family and clan. Their union had been foretold by Nature and would be upheld by the very people who had sworn their lives to protecting Nature’s blessings and gifts.

“ Touch her child.” Zora urged, smiling at Emilian.

Deciding on holding the tiny hand presented to him, Emilian leaned forward to touch only the babe’s fingertips. But when he crept closer his body responded to the nearness of her and without thinking he kissed the baby’s cheek instead, breathing in her scent. Shocked, he stumbled backwards and landed awkwardly on his backside.

“ Son?” Gavril asked. “Did it work? Did you feel something?”

Struck dumb by the sweetest perfume he’d ever scent, Emilian couldn’t yet speak. He could only stare at the most beautiful pair of sparkling green eyes he would ever see.

Catskills Mountains, NY 2011

Too afraid to move, I continued watching with trepidation at the daddy longlegs spider that was poised directly above where I lay. It was a creepy looking little devil, with its tiny little body and obscenely long spindly legs.

Bugs, I am convinced, have been placed on this earth to make my life miserable. Then again, there wasn’t much that didn’t make me jumpy these days. The end of the world will do that to a person.

I blew out the breath I’d been holding as the spider took off running. It skittered across the stained browned, canvas ceiling of my 1980’s pop-out tent trailer and disappeared. “Ugh,” I told no one in particular. “I am having a bad day.”

“The day hasn’t even started yet, woman. It isn’t possible for it to be bad.”

I huffed at Becki, my trailer mate. “You don’t consider waking up to giant arachnids hovering over your head, waiting to eat you, a bad day?”

I ducked the pillow that came flying from the other end of the trailer. It hit the canvas wall directly above me, where probably, possibly, hundreds, maybe thousands, of hungry daddy longlegs spiders may be living.

“You could have scared the spider back out!”

“Trinity, it’s a spider.”

“Do you know how vengeful spiders are?” I asked in my haughtiest voice. “Especially to the Greeks?”

I couldn’t quite tell, since her head was still buried in her mattress, but she mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Here we go again.”

“Well.” I continued. “The Greek Goddess Athena…” I paused. “You know who she is right?”

“How could I not? You talk about her all the time.”

I chose to ignore that comment.

“Anyway, Athena and a mortal princess named Arachne had a competition to see who the better weaver of the two was. Arachne won and Athena was furious. So she destroyed Arachne’s tapestry and cursed the princess to live a life full of disgrace. Arachne, unable to bear the weight of her curse, hung herself. Then, Athena took pity on her and brought her back to life… but as a spider!”