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In the aftermath of a battle an escaped Venetian galley slave is given a Gypsy's transformation spell evade the Turks, but later events hinder use of the reverse spell. An unexpected ally gives help. This story is set about ninety years after my story 'Turbulence'. A LONG WAY HOME By Geneva It was the afternoon of the day following the battle before our galley struggled into a small deserted bay and beached. From what I had seen of the battle, set as I was below the deck, it might have been the sole survivor of the seven that had set out from the home harbour some weeks earlier. I hoped that other Turkish ports would have suffered similar losses. It had been a serious defeat for the Ottoman Turks but I had rather mixed feelings about it. I was exhilarated that my own people had won, pleased for all of the Christian slaves in captured galleys who would be freed, yet bitterly disappointed too that my own galley had not been captured, and now apprehensive of my own life. You see, I was a galley slave, captured by the Ottoman Turks about two years previously from a Venetian merchant ship and sent with the rest of the crew to Turkish galleys. Now the Turks had just lost a big sea battle at the entrance to the Gulf of Corinth. I heard the name Navpaktos used. My own galley was badly damaged in the first part of the fight, but unfortunately for me and the rest of its slaves, it had managed to elude pursuit from pursuing Venetian galleys and limped away to avoid capture. I suppose I was lucky to be alive. We had been hit by a shot from a Venetian galleass right in the opening of the fight. It killed a dozen or so of the Turkish crew and even more of the slaves. I had received a small cut in my side from a splinter. Soon afterwards many of the galley slaves on the other side had been crushed by a ramming Spanish vessel. The Turkish crew had somehow managed to move the galley back from the fight when another Turkish galley blundered between us and the Spaniard. After the dead and dying were cut from their chains and thrown overboard, some slaves from my side of the rowing deck were unchained and driven to the oars with whips. Almost as soon as we were out of the fight and running for shelter my leg was rechained to a wooden beam below one of the starboard oars with a new companion. At that moment more missiles hit our fleeing galley and the crewman who had been about to chain my wrists to the oar fell down with blood pouring from his chest. There were now only two of us per oar and the Turks worked us hard. I saw several men cut by whips. One time the whip snaked over me and raised a weal, but did not cut me. To make the situation even worse, we were barely away when a storm also blew up. My galley weathered it, only just. Several times large waves spilled water over the sides and we were only saved by the wind blowing us into a relatively sheltered bay. After the hard jolt when we ran onto the rocky shore I saw the Turkish officers conferring at the front of the ship, then some rushed off, no doubt to find the crew of any other surviving ships and to work out how to explain the defeat to their superiors. The slaves, of course, were left in the ship. Water and some food were given to us. The food, as usual, was fairly tasteless, but I had not been starved in the two years. Men cannot be expected to row effectively if they are half starved. I was lean, but well muscled after two years at the oar. I slumped back in exhaustion and looked at my new oar mate. He had a swarthy complexion and looked as if he was about double my age. His beard was tinged with a few white hairs. My own complexion was quite fair. He looked back at me. "Today we were lucky. We might have been killed or drowned." He was speaking in the rough Turkish that served as a language for the mixed races that were the galley slaves. "Yes, but we are still slaves." "We are alive, but unfortunately to row the Turks about for years more until we die. Where are you from?" I told him my story. I was a youth of only sixteen, on board a small vessel from Venice, when I was captured by a Turkish ship in the Adriatic. Now, two years later, I was a man, shaggy and bearded, clad in rags. My hands were callused over, my skin was burned by the sun, but I was lean and fit. "What is your name?" I asked." I am called Giovanni." Bleakly I remembered that I had not been called much by that name since my capture. Galley slaves had little use of names. "I am called Ali," he smiled wryly. "Yes, I was given a Turkish name to hide the fact that I was a Gypsy. Not that it did me much good." "Where are you from?" I asked. "Everywhere," he sighed. "I have been all over Greece and Turkey, even Macedonia and Serbia to the north. Two months or so ago I made the careless mistake of being caught for a small theft. Someone informed on me. The Turks might have cut off my hand, but I suppose they were merciful and sent me to the galleys instead. Sometimes I wish they had killed me." He nodded to my arms. "I see your wrists are not chained to the oar either. Unfortunately, our legs are still fastened." "I fear I am lost too. I do not think I will ever see my mother again." "Careful," he whispered. "Someone is coming." I slumped across my oar, as if in exhaustion, to hide my unfastened wrist chains. An overseer passed by us glowering at us and we were silent. "And you?" I whispered. "Have you family?" "Yes, somewhere north of us in Greece there is a woman who is my wife. My father is also living. You see, being a Gypsy we move around a lot. I do not know where they and the rest of my people might be now." So he was a Gypsy. There had been a few in the Venice area, and, although I had personally never had any dealings with them, I knew they were looked on suspiciously, as they were thought to be thieves. Still, I had no choice in my companion, chained as we were. I looked round the galley. Some slaves had already fallen fast asleep in their exhaustion. They had been forced to row all of the day after the battle and the night as well. I was dog tired too, but sleep eluded me. I hoped that we would be taken off the ship soon. It was not at all seaworthy. The bulwarks were smashed in two places, one where a cannon ball from the galleass had hit and another more serious, where the Spanish vessel had rammed us. Finally, it had beached on some rocks and probably suffered more damage. The galley would require major repairs, if it was not scrapped. That would not free me. I would simply be sent to another galley. I pulled at my leg chain. It was fastened to a bolt through a beam, but then I noticed that the part of the beam holding my chain had cracked. It must have received a blow in the collision with the Spanish ship and opened more as we ran aground. The crack had probably been hidden in blood or debris when they chained my feet to the beam. I pulled at it more strongly, and the crack widened a little. With a more effort I might be able to pull the anchoring bolt through the wood. My companion noticed my effort. "The crack extends to my chain as well. They forgot to chain my wrists also. Together we may be able to pull our ankle chains free and escape, but better do it later," he muttered, "when it is darker." "Yes, but then they may have moved us off this wreck and chained us together. Then we will be sent to other ships." "No, It is now getting late, and the crew is short-handed. It does not look as if they will move us tonight. The sun has an hour to go before it sets. How is your chain?" I tugged at my chain just to make sure. "No, I am afraid I am held fast. No, wait." I pulled and I saw the crack in the beam holding my own chain extended as far as his. We looked at each other. "Try tonight?" I muttered. He gave a faint nod. If this was a proper Turkish port instead of a deserted bay we would have been moved into a cell, but the Turks were off, either licking their wounds, or reporting to their leaders about the disaster. They would not be too concerned about their galley slaves. If we were cold in the night, that was of little concern. The sun set in an hour or so and soon there was no sound except a few snores from the other slaves and the slap of small waves on the sides of the galley. Even the watchman was slumped, exhausted, on the deck above us. As the gloom grew, my companion nudged me. "If we are to do it, now is the time," he whispered." It is dark enough. Better we go over the far side, the water will be deeper there." My heart was pounding as we began to pull. The crack in the beam widened, but still the bolts did not slip. I stood up to get a better leverage and the crack widened more. The bolt had just about slipped the beam, when with a loud ripping sound, the wood totally split along its length and both bolts slipped out. We were free. The guard was awake in an instant, but he could barely see us in the gloom of the rowing deck. I saw him grab his lantern, but at that same instant we leaped overboard and plunged into the water. Ali had been right; the sea floor on that side sloped away quickly. My chains were still attached and I felt their weight drag me down. Once I felt I my ankle chain catch on some object in the sea floor, and I panicked, but it came away with a strong pull. My lungs were almost bursting before I struggled to the surface. I was about fifty paces from the galley, now lit with several lanterns as the Turks peered over the side. My wounded side was stinging with the seawater. I looked round and glimpsed an object in the water a short distance from me, silhouetted against the faint twilight of the western sky. It was a man's head, that of the Gypsy. I swam towards it, cursing the weight and hindrance of the chains. "Is that you ? Are you all right? I whispered. "Good to see you survived," he gasped. "Now I think we have to swim a bit further. There, to the west, to the land on the other side of this bay." We barely made it. My muscles were terribly tired after only half the distance, and it was only by good fortune that we found a small shoal and were able to catch our breath before we pushed to the far shore. The beach was pebbly, and we lay exhausted on it for an hour. There were continuing shouts of alarm from the galley across the bay, but we dared not go further as we could not see at all. By good fortune a half moon came up an hour later, and we picked our way further along the shore away from the galley. We kept going westwards the rest of that night until the beach gave way to a series of cliffs, with large rocks set between the cliffs and the sea. That gave us shelter from above, and we were hidden from the sea. Ali was older than me, but strong and fit for his age. Like me he was well muscled from rowing, but we were still exhausted by the swim and lay on a small patch of sand at the base of cliff for the rest of that night.. It was bright sunlight when I awoke. I examined my side. My wound was slightly red, but did not seem to be badly infected. My companion was lying beside me and I shook him. He was instantly awake, a wary look in his eyes. "We are safe?" "Yes, so far. I have not heard anything. Perhaps the Turks think we drowned." "Well, we are alive, we are off that cursed galley, but now we have to escape properly. First, we have to get rid of these." He shook his manacled right arm. "Then we have to get food and water, even clothes and something for our feet. But I wonder where." "Where are we?" I asked. "We must be still close to the bay with the galley, but we are in Greece, and although the Turks control it, the population is mostly Greek and Christian. They have no love for their Ottoman overlords. Perhaps we can get help from some of them. Meanwhile, let us eat." He looked about. "See, here is water in this depression in the rock." He tasted it with a finger. "Ah yes, a bit brackish, but drinkable. And now." He walked carefully in his bare feet over the rocks to the water and picked some shellfish from the rocks. "These are edible. I am sorry they are raw, but they will do for just now." I looked at the shellfish with distaste, but forced myself to eat the raw slimy mess, almost vomiting. At least some of my hunger was satisfied. "Now these manacles." The metal was almost half as thick as my little finger and tightly closed around my wrist so that I could not have slipped it. It was held with two large rivets. "We need someone with a chisel and hammer or....." I looked round. The rocks were of a hard rough sandstone. I began to rub the manacle on the rock. I scraped myself, but I saw fresh metal under the tarnished surface. He grinned at me. "So all we have to do is grind them away. " But it took all of the rest of that day. I got free first, my hands blistered and my wrists raw from rubbing on the manacles and scraping on the rocks. The metal was ground through, but I had to struggle to bend the metal from my wrists. I was about to throw the chains into the water when he stopped me. "No, bury them in the sand, in case a search party finds them. Now help me." It was easier with me using two hands to grind at his, but it was still another hour before I had his chains off as well. I was too exhausted to deal with my ankle chains that day, but by the end of the next we were free of these as well. We had been continually listening for pursuit, but we heard nothing. At one point two small fishing boats sailed past and we hid, not knowing who the crews were. We had yet another revolting meal of raw shellfish and brackish water, and slept again in the hollow under the cliff. The next day we picked our way further west along the shore, putting still more distance between us and the beached galley. Several times the sea came right to the base of the cliffs and there was no option but to climb up the rocks in our bare feet. Occasionally too there were fields. It was now October and the grain in the fields was long since harvested, but we found a few unharvested stalks in a corner and added raw grain to our raw seafood diet. By the end of the third day we supposed we had covered a sufficient distance from the galley to walk more openly along the cliffs. My stomach was cramping and my bowels were loose. The next day we came to a few huts set on a small hill in the middle of some fields. We watched the few comings and goings of the inhabitants for an hour or so. There appeared to be only two or three men in the place, an equal number of women. As all appeared to be simple peasants we decided to trust them. Besides, if they were not, they would have difficulty capturing us as we were fairly strong from our time on the galleys. When we were about a hundred paces from the nearest hut I called out to alert them. They might not have appreciated our appearing suddenly. A man's face looked out cautiously, then he and several others filed out of the huts. It seemed as if all of the small population had come out to watch us. They were neither friendly nor hostile, but just a bit suspicious. We must have looked a strange sight, ragged, bearded and unkempt, but it was obvious we carried no weapons. I held up my hands to show we meant them no harm. "Do you speak Greek?" I asked my companion. "Just a little, but enough to say who we are." He began to speak and the inhabitants' looks became tinged with fear. They began a heated discussion with each other. "They have heard about the battle," he said. "We are well west of Navpaktos. They are very pleased the Turks lost the battle, but it does not look good for us," he muttered. "They are afraid that the Turks will come looking for us, and will take revenge on them if they help us." Then an older woman began speaking. It was obvious she was berating the others and a few even began looking sheepish. "She is scolding them for not helping unfortunates, and no doubt fellow Christians." "Yes, tell them that I am Italian and a Christian. Are you?" "If they will help us, I will be anything they want." He grinned slightly. "No, I do not know enough of your Christian rituals or beliefs so I will have to be honest with them, although many do not trust Gypsies." He spoke to the group, and the woman looked at me with pity, but with mild hostility to him. We were soon hustled into one of the small houses, barely larger than a hut, and smelly with smoke and perspiration. We were given a few rags to cover ourselves, only barely better than the rags we already wore as galley slaves, and only just worse than the peasants' clothes. The food was better, pieces of a coarse bread and some type of cooked green vegetable and even a roasted fish. We ate them ravenously. We were even treated to a haircut with a sharp knife, not too short, as we were supposed to be uncultured peasants. Like the men, we kept our beards, although trimmed much shorter than they had grown in the galleys. I was fascinated by the women . I had not seen a woman in the two years since I was captured. Most were old, but there was a young woman, barely older than a girl. I relished looking at her. She seemed so graceful, despite her rags and bare feet. "Careful," Ali muttered." They may not like your attentions to their women." He was right. I forced myself to look away from her, and I was glad when she left. We were both exhausted and were glad to get a good sleep. Next morning the woman who had taken our part came in and spoke briefly to us in Greek. She looked at me expectantly, but I did not understand any of what she said. I looked at Ali for a translation. "She says she is sorry they cannot do better, and she is sorry we cannot stay here. We are too near a detachment of Turkish soldiers, and they have little enough food for themselves." "Just thank her for what they gave us. We were desperate." Ali uttered a few words and the woman nodded and smiled . He spoke again and she thought briefly then answered with a few words. "I asked her about any of my people, Gypsies, you know. She tells me that there is a group of them nearby." "Why do you need them? They will probably not be your tribe." "Because I am a Gypsy, they will accept me and help me. Most gypsies help each other. Most." He seemed to think briefly about something, then continued. "Perhaps they may even know the whereabouts of my own group. I want to get back to my wife, if possible. This group is about a day's journey away, just north of a small town across the next bay." I hoped that he would find his wife, but I wondered if she might have despaired of ever seeing him again and had taken up with a different man. We set off the next morning at first light. It was easier this time, not being barefoot, and having other than rags to wear. We had also been given chunks of their coarse bread. I kissed our benefactress on her hand and had the satisfaction of seeing her blush. She began to cry and muttered another few words. "She wishes us good fortune," said Ali. "Her husband was murdered by Turks some years ago. She hates them." "We had still better keep out of sight of any Turks." He gestured to our wrists and ankles. The callus marks of our chains were still visible and in places the skin was scarred. The pale fresh skin stood out against the rest of our tanned and weather-beaten skin. It would be obvious to anyone that we had been chained. Otherwise we looked like two poor Greek peasants, but if anyone stopped us to ask our business, I knew no Greek. I had an idea. "I cannot speak Greek. If anyone asks, I will point to my throat. You can say I am dumb." This area was quite rocky and sparsely dotted with trees. We saw a few goats wandering about but there were no signs of any shepherd and it was the end of the day before we came to a small hill overlooking the town. There was a light drizzle of rain, but we found shelter under an old olive tree. I looked at my companion. "Do you want to enter the town to ask?" He shook his head." No, we will not need anything from them unless we cannot find the Gypsies. Anyway, no sense alerting any Turks that might be snooping around." At first light we headed north. My companion began looking in gullies and under tree clumps. "Aha!" he exclaimed and pointed. In a small wooded ravine a few hundred paces away I saw a flash of movement. "I think we have found what we are looking for." He gave a small grunt of satisfaction. We watched the small camp carefully for about an hour, but it was obvious that there were only Gypsies there. We walked into the camp cautiously, yet openly to allay any suspicions. The few men and women looked at us cautiously, until Ali began talking. In seconds we were rushed into one of their carts. "I have told them about us, "he said. "They want to get us out of sight." Ali began talking with a man in a rapid speech. I had no idea what language it was. It was certainly not Turkish or Greek. Ali beamed at me. "They are going to help us, but first, they will feed us. Ah, it will be nice to get some familiar food inside me." I was very hungry, and wolfed down the food. It was a stew, mainly of vegetables but with a few scraps of meat and quite spiced. I thought it was the best thing had tasted in years. All the while Ali was talking to the other gypsies, occasionally gesticulating to make his point. He grinned at me. "I have asked them about my own clan. They are not sure, but last month this group were further north and briefly met up with another group who sound like my own clan. There was even a woman in that group who may have been my wife. So now I must try to get to her. What about you? What are your plans?" "I want to get back to Venice, but I am not sure how to go. If I went by land I would have to go north into Macedonia and further through Albania. Then further still round the north of the Adriatic. It is a long way, very mountainous, and most of the territory is controlled by Ottoman. Or I could try to cross the Adriatic, but I would have to find a boat. Whichever way I try I would have to go north for some distance anyway as the narrowest point across the Adriatic is at the Strait of Otranto. Another possibility is the island of Corfu. I believe the Greeks call it Kerkyra. It is just off the Greek coast and is held by Venice. From there I might get back to Venice. I know that the Turks have laid siege to Kerkyra, but so far they have been unsuccessful. At least there might not be too many Turkish ships around after their defeat and Kerkyra is not too far from the mainland of Greece." "That is a good plan, but why not come some ways with me? If my own people are in the North, maybe they will have heard of ways to get you home by land. Gypsies are known for wandering. There you can reach Italy from Albania" . He grinned. "At least we are on the correct side of the Gulf of Patrai. Otherwise we would have many added days' journey to walk around, or steal a boat. Or swim!" I thought about it in bed that night. Either way home had its dangers, but if I had the support of gypsies? In the morning I spoke to Ali. "I have decided. I will go north with you. It will be safer with two of us to help each other and then perhaps your tribe can help me." He clapped me on the back. "Excellent. Then I shall tell the people here. We must be on our way soon." The next day, provisioned and even fitted with fresh clothing, we set out. Ali said that it would be at least two week's constant travelling. It was now getting colder day by day as winter set in. Each morning I looked at the mountains, eyeing the snow level, lowering day by day, it seemed. I hoped our journey would not lead us through mountain passes. Some days we did well. On others we were lucky to make a league or two through overgrown tracks. Our food soon ran out and again we were forced to scavenge what we could from the countryside. In two weeks we were close to the supposed location of the Gypsies, but I looked at the mountainous wilderness and wondered how we could find anyone. Ali nodded when I told him my doubts. "We have to find a village now, to ask if they have seen gypsies. If not at one, then another and another, until we are successful." The first village we tried had no information, but they directed us to another, where we were lucky. As usual, the inhabitants were suspicious to strangers, but pointed us to a site they said was only a day away. I gulped. They had pointed up a steep sided ravine. Even in good weather it would have been a trial. This was now November, and a light snow was falling. So we trudged on. That night we huddled under a stunted pine tree, watching the snow constantly falling. Despite the dangers we had to light a small fire to keep warm. By the morning the snow was ankle deep and as we had only sandals, we had to fashion some foot covering from some rags. We were almost to the end of the ravine, struggling through the snow, when with relief I saw the ground flattening out. We were over the pass. Then disaster struck. We were so preoccupied with out own difficulties with the snow that the pounding of hooves behind us took us by surprise. We looked round to see three mounted soldiers heading towards us. Two were young men but the third, wearing a more elaborate uniform, looked older. His beard was flecked with white. I was crushed. To have struggled so far away from the galley, and to be recaptured now, but Ali muttered under his breath, "These are Turkish army men, not from the galleys. They are probably not looking for us." I heard them shouting at us. "Better stop," muttered Ali. "They seem interested in us. Now is the time for your dumb act. Play the idiot if you want." The three men set their horses round us. We looked up to the older man. From the crude Turkish I knew he was commanding us to stop, and asking who we were. Playing a simple fearful peasant, Ali began to explain in crude Turkish that we were two farm labourers heading to the village and our homes. We had been out checking our fields for any unharvested crops when we were caught by the snow. I let my mouth open slackly. One of the men barked a command at me but I only gave a lopsided grin. I heard Ali say I was a half-wit. The men did not seem suspicious, but were out for mischief. One edged his horse towards me, so that I had to stumble out of his way. He did it again, laughing as I fell over into the snow. I had barely staggered up when another rode at me so that I tumbled yet again into the snow. All were roaring with laughter. I was trying to keep my temper, acting the simpleton, but as I got up, the covering on my arms slid off, exposing my wrists, with the callused skin from my galley chains showing. The older man spotted it immediately. He shouted at me, drew his sword and pointed it at me. It was obvious he wanted to inspect my ankles and wrists. The chain marks would be evident and we would soon be found out. No slave was ever released alive from the galleys. Their attention was all on me when Ali seized the older man's arm, pulling him from the saddle. That distracted the other two men's attention and in turn I jumped up and pulled down one of the younger men . The other man who was still mounted drew his pistol and fired at Ali, but Ali had swung the older man in front of him as a shield. The older man gave a choking cry and clutched his throat, but could not stem the gush of blood. I struggled with the man under me. He was young and strong, but I was stronger from my years in the galleys. The older man's sword was at my hand and I smashed the hilt again and again over his head until he lay limp. Vaguely I heard the other soldier galloping off, but I just sat back in shock, with a growing awareness of our plight. We had just killed two Ottoman soldiers, one of them probably a senior officer. The other man would soon be back with help, and as murderers and escaped slaves there would be no mercy for us. If we were caught our deaths would be painful and prolonged. The two years in the galleys would seem like pleasant prelude to our fate. I was unscathed and almost unmarked, but Ali's hands arms and clothes were covered with blood. "Damnation," I swore. "What do we do now?" He laughed. "First we celebrate. We two unarmed men, on foot, bested three on horseback. We are great warriors." He looked at my serious face. "All right, we will hide the bodies. The ground will be too frozen, but we can hide them over there, by that gully. The snow will cover them until Spring. Maybe some wild animals will dispose of the bodies. Let us pray for more snow. It may also cover up the blood here. I had better get rid of some," and he scrubbed his hands and arms with snow until the blood was mostly washed off. "What about the horses?" "Better chase them away. No wait, we need to get away from here fast. The Turks will soon be looking for us. Can you ride?" "Not at all." "Then, Giovanni, now is time to learn." We armed ourselves with the pistols and swords from the two dead men, dragged the bodies to the gully and threw them in. In a minute we were galloping the horses down from the pass and away from the red stained snow. Ali pointed ahead. "Now we had better find my people quite fast. Pray that we do. The Turks will not rest until they find us." My horse was fairly obedient, but I found the ride getting very uncomfortable after an hour. It was yet another miserable three hours through the snow when Ali spotted something. "See there," he pointed to a clump of trees. "That looks like more Gypsies." I could sense his growing excitement and tension as we neared the camp. We were spotted while we were still a good distance away, and a group of men slowly came out to bar our way. My companion drew his breath, then spurred his horse towards them. Still some paces from them he stopped and dismounted. Rather, he almost leaped from the saddle and ran to an older man. There was a brief hesitancy then they embraced, with shouts of joy, broken by tears. The other Gypsies' faces were covered with delight. I saw a group of women approach. One looked at the couple, her hand went to her mouth and she too rushed forward, screaming in delight. Ali took her and embraced her, then swung her off the ground to kiss her exuberantly. They sank to their knees in the snow, still embracing, tears in their eyes. I remained a bit apart from the celebration, standing awkwardly at my horse, uncomfortable in the gaze of some urchins. I seemed to be mostly ignored. At last Ali pointed to me and took the woman in one hand, the older man in another and brought them towards me. "Giovanni, today is one of the happiest of my life. I present my father Yayal and my wife Zula." He spoke to them in a tongue I did not recognise, and both embraced me. I thought that Zula looked quite attractive. Her complexion was swarthy and her hair dark. She looked much younger than Ali, and she had a nicely curved figure. Yayal was a man in his sixties, bald, and with a short white beard. He had a powerful build, but walked with a slight limp. He took my hand in his and I felt his powerful grasp and embraced me. "My thanks to you, Giovanni." Ali clapped my back and embraced me to. "I have told them that without you it would have been impossible for me to escape, but that you now badly need our assistance to avoid the Turks and return to Italy. They agree you are to be given all help. If we cannot, we will seek more Gypsies who will. We look after our friends. Now first, let us get washed and some food and drink inside us. Yes, and out of the cold air." I was led to a tent close to the one that appeared to be Yayal's. The air was cold, but the tent was well supplied with blankets. I would not be cold that night. Later, I was led outside to a blazing fire in front of the assembled Gypsies. Ali rose to speak and at his words the Gypsies gave me shouts of approval. Soon food and drink were brought out and the atmosphere was filled with jubilation and singing. After the celebration, Ali took me aside. "It is good to celebrate, but we have spent enough time. We are too close to where we killed those men. Tomorrow we must all move well away, at least three days' journey. The Turks may not suspect us, being Gypsies. After all, the two labourers were supposed to be Greeks from a nearby village, but the Turks will be in an angry mood and out for revenge, any revenge." "What about the horses? Will we drive them away?" He grimaced. "They are fine beasts. It would have been good to keep them for our own use, but they would be too easily recognised. We could also have slaughtered them for the meat, but their blood and bones would have been too difficult to hide in the snow. So one of my tribe took them into the mountains, up there. There is a group of rebels that could use horses. Now they will be grateful to us, and leave us alone." He grinned. "Also, if the Turks pick up the trail of the horses they may think it was the rebels that killed the two officers." The Gypsies struck camp at first light the next morning, and by midday we were out of the snow and well away from the site, and heading north. The group made good speed that day, and by the next we camped in a patch of ground near a small town. It was still cold, but at least the snow had missed that area. That evening Ali took me aside . "I have to leave you for a bit. I have a small matter to attend to over in the next town. I will be gone a day or so." I noticed that he was armed with one of the pistols that we had taken from the Turks. He gave no explanation and I was a bit concerned to see him go. I did not like the idea of being with people I did not know well. I was awakened the next morning by Yayal shaking my shoulder. "Trouble," he said. He was speaking in a crude Turkish. "The Ottoman have reacted more than than I thought. They are determined to find those who killed their men. One of my people was in the village and the Turks are saying that it was a senior officer that was killed. The one who escaped said that they were ambushed by a force of twenty rebels." I snorted, but Yayal just grinned." Well, it wouldn't do for him to admit that you two, on foot, beat three of them on horses, would it? He needed an excuse for his own cowardice too. However, he says that he especially noticed two of the rebels. In fact he gave quite a good description of Ali and yourself. They have now cordoned off the whole area and will gradually tighten the net. Unfortunately for us, we are in it. They will go door to door searching for you. We have to hide you." "But where?" "I do not know yet. It is possible you might slip away and escape north over the Pindus Mountains but there is now snow on the higher slopes, and I hear all of the passes are guarded by Turks. Oh yes, they have a good description of you and they will be looking out for the marks of chains." "I will not let myself be captured," I said. "If I can, I will kill more Turks before I am taken, and if necessary, I will kill myself." It was only slightly later that day Yayal came to see me. "Look over there." I squinted into the sun and saw a line of Turkish soldiers at the top of a hill. "See, they have established a ring round the town. They are searching some of the outlying houses first. They will now slowly tighten the noose. It is too late for you to slip away. Have you thought of another plan?" he asked. I trembled. "No, have you?" He hesitated. "I was speaking to Zula, She suggested something. It would involve disguising you as a woman. " I snorted. "Yes, we would be very successful, I do not think. I am too tall and muscled from the galleys. Also my face is bearded. It would take more than a conjurer's art to make me appear as a woman." "Yes, I agree that it will need more than a conjurer's art. What about a magician?" I looked at him narrowedly. "I have heard people talk about magicians," I said, "but I doubt there is really any such thing. A belief in magic is only for the superstitious." "Giovanni, there are things that you have not heard of, things that have been passed from generation to generation of Gypsies, but that were used discreetly and only occasionally. Zula has a certain book, passed to her by her mother before she died. She in turn had it from her mother. It is a knowledge that has been passed through the women. It is in a book of spells, written in an ancient language. There are many spells, mostly for healing. I have seen Zula use some to heal cuts, help in childbirth and so on. Perhaps you have noticed that I limp. I had a severe injury and could have lost my leg, or my life, but Zula cured it almost completely with one of her spells. There is one spell she told me about - I do not know its purpose- if a man hears it he will become a woman, fully. The spell lasts well and does not wear off until a reverse spell is spoken. Zula says her grandmother used the spell first at the fall of Trebizond a century ago to save a young man but there are legends of more ancient times where the spell killed tyrants and saved the innocent. She says the spells are only used sparingly. She does not want them widely known, but these are desperate times, and you have done her husband, my son, a great service." I hesitated. I was sceptical anyway but I did not like the idea of using magic, even if it was true. When I was a boy the priest at my church had always warned about the evil arts, and I remembered a witch being burned in the town square for her supposed use of magic. Still, ordinary prayer had not helped me much in the last two years. "Supposing it did work, how long would I need to stay as a woman, and anyway, what about the marks of our chains?" "Only as long as it takes to pass examination by the Turks. But she warns that the spells are severe. Some men have died from them, especially older men. So usually the reverse spell is not used until about a week afterwards to allow the person to recover his, or her, strength. We could dye any pale scarred pale skin with walnut juice, and as a Gypsy woman you could wear bracelets and anklets to make them less noticeable." I did not fancy living as a woman for a whole week, and to be ornamented as one? I shook my head. "I will take a risk. There must be somewhere in this village that I can hide. Either that or I will try to pass through the Turkish lines." "As you wish, but I think you should try the scheme." Later that night I was surprised when Yayal came to me with a bottle of wine. "We will try to get you away tomorrow. I expect you will soon go off in search of a place to hide, and I may not see you again. I would like to thank you for your help with my son and wish you a safe journey back to Italy." He poured two cupfuls of wine, gave me one and toasted me. I drank. It was good wine and I toasted him back, and then with "Death to the Turks" we had another toast. We talked about my few weeks with Ali and my plans for the future. Yet he seemed preoccupied and I noticed he drank only a half cup of the wine. He poured me another and I drained it fast. It was good wine. I had not drunk wine for years. "Well, I wish you goodnight," and he took my hand. Something was very wrong. I had no strength in my hand. I tried to rise, but my legs would not obey my mind. He rose and pushed me gently onto my back. I was beginning to panic, trying to shout for help, as much as my befuddled brain would allow, when Yayal called out and Zula entered, holding a small book with a cover that looked like yellowish hide.. "He is ready now," Yayal said. "What do you mean?" I struggled to say, but my tongue would not obey my brain. Then I realised that he had drugged me. I was almost unable to move any muscle, yet my mind was clear. "We are going to give you the spell," Yayal said, "so you will become a woman. I am sorry, Giovanni, but it was too dangerous not to change you. Your appearance is too distinctive. If the Turks recognized you they would torture you, and that would have led them to my son. Then not only he, but all of my small tribe would have been killed. The drug will do you no harm, but it will keep you from struggling or running away while we use the spell. I must leave you now, otherwise the spell would change me too." Zula looked down at me. "This is a book of magic spells. It is very ancient. Even I do not know what the sounds mean. They must be from an ancient language. You should know that I do not like to use this book. It is covered with human skin. In our beliefs that is bad, although the spells in the book can be used for good." She began to read from the small book. I heard strange words, certainly not in any language I knew. It only took a minute and she put the book down. There were tears in her eyes. She was also speaking in a crude Turkish, but her voice was so much more accented that I could barely understand her. "This will be uncomfortable for you. I am sorry, but it may be the only way to save you, and all of us." I still could barely move, but otherwise I felt well. I looked at her in fury. "I trusted you," I said, my voice slurred, hoping against hope that her tales of a magic book were only unfounded superstition. "I am sorry, Giovanni, but these are desperate times. I do this to save you, and my clan." I began to feel cold and a small shiver took me. Then, even in my drugged lethargy, another shiver, stronger this time, made my teeth chatter. I rolled to my side, then struggled on to my belly and slowly pulled my knees up. My legs were as heavy as lead, and I hunched as another even stronger shiver took me . Yet another and I sank to my face in the dirt. Shaking continuously. I was only half aware of the woman turning me onto my back and putting a rag between my teeth when I must have fallen unconscious. The next I remember was a hand shaking me. A woman's voice was calling my name, as if from a long distance. I felt a great weariness as deep as my bones. I wanted to sink back into sleep, but the voice sounded again, and my shoulder was shaken again. I tried to speak but my throat and mouth were parched. Eventually I managed a gasp, then a croak. I felt a cup of water at my lips and I slurped it awkwardly, much spilling over my chin. I remember that I was so confused I did not know where I was. Even the effort of thinking was too much. Then I felt my face being wiped with a damp cloth. It felt wonderfully cool. Now someone was washing my neck and my curiously tender chest, my belly and below. The cool water began to revive me and I managed to croak, "Where am I? What has happened?" There was something different about my voice, higher somehow, like a woman's. I tried to open my eyes but they seemed stuck shut. "Just rest," I heard but I felt more water at my lips and I drank. It hurt to swallow but I sipped some more. I had a raging thirst and I took another drink, larger this time. I think I must have fallen asleep again but eventually I heard, "Can you talk?" My hearing was fuzzy, my head was throbbing, and my body hurt. When I rubbed my brow with my hand, it felt hot and sweaty and something did not feel right, as if my skin was smoother, and my hand or face had changed. Again I tried to open my eyes, but they were crusted over, then that blessed hand with the water gently bathed them so that I could finally force them open. I squinted in the light. Zula was leaning over me, looking at me. She was only in a simple peasant dress, but she seemed beautiful nevertheless. "What has happened,?" I croaked. My voice was getting stronger, yet it still had that same higher pitch." Why am I speaking strangely?" "It is the effects of the spell. It has worked well, but you are weak. It is a severe spell." "What spell?" I asked, but then I remembered that Yayal had drugged me and his wife had a book that she had been reading to make me into a ...! I screamed with the memory and understanding but noticing even in my weakness that my body was different, and my voice shrill, like a woman's. I tried to raise myself from my bed but Zula held me back. "Sshh. Take it easy. You must still rest a bit." But I forced my aching muscles to raise me. I looked at my right arm, then my left. They were tanned, still muscled, still hairy, but shorter, slimmer,, rounder, smoother. The veins on the back of my small hands were barely visible. Apart from the coarse male hair, they were the arms and hands of a woman. I felt at my bare chest. Someone had undressed me while I was unconscious. On it were two projections of soft, yet firm flesh. I screamed at the realisation. Did I now have breasts? I pushed down the thin blanket and stared down at myself in shock. I screamed again. On my chest were two half globes, each tipped with a large pinkish nipple and areola, yet on and between them was a mat of my blond male chest hair. Wider awake now, I threw off my blanket completely and looked down past my belly to my crotch. I gave another scream of terror and horror. My familiar penis and the sac below were gone. Desperately I felt further downwards, but there was nothing. Zula tried to hold me but I shook her off. I spread my legs and examined my belly, and then further down. I bent my head as far as I could but it was not far enough to see. I felt with my fingers. They found soft folds of flesh, oddly sensitive to my touch. I spread my legs more and probed through the springy hair at the base of my belly into the folds. A vertical cleft held a small nub, sensitive to the touch. I pressed it but jerked my hand away at the feeling. I forced myself to return my finger and probed below. There was an opening in the folds, moist inside. I shivered. Indeed I had a woman's body, completely. I screamed in despair. Zula now had tears in her eyes. "I am sorry, Giovanni, but we had no choice, to protect not only you, but all of us." "How could you do this?" I cried. "This is witchcraft. I did not want this." I burst into tears, female tears. "It was for the best. This course is the least risky. I promise that it is only until we escape the Turks; then we will restore your manhood. My husband's father thought it best." I looked down again. The body was female, well curved, an hourglass shape, but hairy, like a man's. "I look nothing like a woman. Just look at me!" I screamed. "I have hair on my chest and arms. I look like a freak. The Turks will easily notice me." "The male hair will fall out in a day. Little time enough, as the Turks are searching ever closer to us. " I felt at my face. I still had a beard. It felt just as bristly. "This too?" She stroked my face. "Yes, that too will soon fall out, but when I change you back your beard will start to grow again, never fear. I know that the hair on your head is too short for a woman, but that cannot be helped." She examined my arms and legs. "Your wrists and ankles look better. You have lost most of the scarring but we must still disguise the marks of the chains. Here, have another drink. " I drank more water, feeling more physically revived by the minute, but if anything, more frightened by my new body and status. "Now rest" she commanded. "You will not have much energy for a day or so, but I still have things to do." She gave me a blanket and I sat miserably hunched over the bed, watching as she worked. A figure entered. It was Yayal. There was surprise, or even shock on his face. "I am sorry, my friend," then he hesitated as he ran his eyes up and down me. "It was too risky to leave you unchanged. Do you not think it is a good disguise?" His face fell at the expression on mine. "Have patience, Giovanni. It will only be for a few days. I am afraid it will be rough on you again when we use the other spell to reverse this one, but hopefully you will have slipped through the Turks' net. " "I did not want this," I said. "You betrayed me." "I am tired of your complaints," he said, grabbing my chin and staring at me, "I would let your miserable skin be found by the Turks, but it would be trouble for us." Then he relented. "I am sorry, Giovanni, I am unfair. It is just that we are all still in great danger." Zula held a piece of polished metal to me and I looked at myself. I gave a small cry. Even allowing for the distortion in the metal, I was a freak. I had a woman's face, perhaps even a pretty face, now lacking heavy male eyebrows, but with a man's facial hair. "I look nothing like a woman," I howled. "This is a cruel joke. I am all hairy. " "No, not at all. I have already told you. You will lose the male hair very soon." She gave a small smile." I am sure that you do not want to know, but you will be quite a beauty. The spell makes beautiful women, and it has worked especially well for you. It affects women too. See." She twirled to show her curved figure. "I have read the same spell in the past to others so it affected me as well. Don't I look young? Yet I am almost the same age as Ali." I had not realized that. She was much older than me, to be sure, but her face was still unlined. Still, I did not want to be a woman, however beautiful. "The sooner you change me back, the better," I hissed. I tried to get up further, but my legs still ached. "How long was I unconscious?" I asked. "For more than a full day," Yayal said. "Are you able to get up?" "No Yayal, it is too soon for her," Zula protested. I did not relish being referred to as 'her' and I tried to stand anyway , but my legs gave way beneath me. "See, better to rest for a bit, but after that you will have to hurry." she said. "The Turks are getting closer. Can you use this?" She held out a small metal pot to me. "Can you relieve yourself?" She looked at Yayal. "You should leave now. Give her some privacy." Blushing, I sat on the pot and relieved myself. It was strange not to stand. "I have used the spell two times previous to you," said Zula. "One was for a young man who wanted to live as a woman. I think his clan would have killed him if I had not. I changed him and hid him, then I was able to get him taken in as a woman by another clan. The other was a boy, a Greek Christian boy who his family wanted to protect, in case Turks took him for their Janissaries." "What happened to these?" "The first adjusted well. The man, now a woman, was from another tribe. His own tribe would not accept her afterwards but she found shelter with another. I believe she married and is now a mother. The other, as soon as the Turks had done their sweep for the army, I changed back. I do not know how he has been since." She thought for a minute. "There was a boy too, in Serbia. His parents were generous to us and in gratitude I suggested that I could temporarily change him, but his parents changed their mind at the last minute. They said it was witchcraft. Too bad for them. The Turks took their son." She called out the door and in a minute a boy entered carrying a small pot. "This is my son, Jano," she said proudly." This is a thin soup to keep your strength up. But tomorrow you must be up and ready. I have to dress you as woman." I finished the soup, and even had another helping, I felt suddenly sleepy and lay back to close my eyes. I thought I had only been asleep a few minutes, but it was Zula shaking me. "Time to get up. You slept another whole night." This time I felt much refreshed and in a better mood until I remembered that she said she would dress me as a woman. Now sit up," she commanded. "I have to see if I can remove the male hair. She began to pluck at my arms. "Ah yes," She seemed satisfied. "See, it comes away easily." She began to rub me with a coarse cloth. I was amazed to see the hair stripping from my arms, leaving only a few fine hairs. It was the same with my legs and she turned her attention to my chest. There was almost no discomfort and in a minute my breasts were as hairless as a woman's. I gasped twice, when the towel rubbed over the nipples. She grinned at my surprise. "You see what women feel?" "Now your face." That too cleaned up easily. My short beard pulled from me with only a slight stinging, as if it was barely attached. "Now, down there." She pointed to the base of my belly. "That looks nothing like a woman's. Let me see." I tried to stop her but she brushed my hand away. "You are a woman now. So am I, and I have seen other naked women before." She pulled gently at the hair at the base of my belly. This stung more and I saw some hairs pull off, but not all. I was left with a small oval patch of hair above and around my new female genitalia, a woman's pattern. "Here." She held out a faded black dress to me. "Now cover yourself. Put this on." I was so bewildered that I gave no objection as she pushed the dress over my head and shoulders. The material was coarse and worn, but it was clean. She brushed at my hair with expressions of disapproval. "It needs washed." She called out and in a minute Jano returned with a dish of warm water and a small piece of dark soap. "Your hair is filthy. It will need washed. If you want the disguise to be effective you need to pay more attention to your appearance. Women keep themselves cleaner than men." She pushed my head into the pan then rubbed in the soap. It needed a rinse and another application of soap before it formed a lather. "Now dry it." she commanded, and threw me a dry cloth. I dried it to the best of my ability and she began to brush and comb it, snipping with a small pair of scissors. "Now your eyebrows." She began to pull at my eyebrows and I saw small tufts of hair in her fingers. "There, you look nothing like your previous self. "Now look at me." she inspected my face. "Yes, not bad, but your hair is too light. We must dye it." She grimaced "More work, but we cannot let the Turks discover you." "Let me see." She rummaged in a chest and pulled out a small pouch. She shook a little into her hand. "This is a dye to make your hair much darker." She dipped my hair into the dark brew, wiped some on my eyebrows, and in a few more minutes she was satisfied. "Another thing, I had better use a female name for you, Seradya. It was the name of an aunt of mine. I cannot call you Giovanni if there are any Turks around, can I? How do you like yourself now?" I looked in the mirror and gasped. Facing me was a pretty dark-haired woman. Her hair was much shorter than the other gypsy women, but the style looked nothing like a man's. Her hair was a dark chestnut brown. It contrasted oddly with her blue eyes. Her features were even and regular, with a pretty shaped face, slightly prominent cheekbones, a small but determined chin, and full lips. Her blue eyes were large under dark fine arched eyebrows. Zula been thorough; I was well disguised. "She is pretty, but it is not me." I said. "I do not like myself like this, but I have no choice now." "No, you do not. But you may have to practice moving and walking and behaving like a woman, unless we can soon escape from the Turks." We were barely finished when Jano gave a shout of alarm, and we watched as a group of Turkish soldiers marched into our camp. They were commanded by an officer on a white horse and I felt my stomach turn into knots when I recognised him as the surviving officer of the three that we had encountered. "Here, put this over your head," said Zula. "It is a square of cloth to hide your short hair." He barked out orders and the soldiers began to round us all up, even the sick and elderly, to push us into two lines. One for men, one for women and the children. The children were released almost immediately, but stood by the carts fearfully watching the rest of us. Next the women. He rode up and down in front of us. I was standing by Zula. Whatever happened I was not going to let her out of my sight as she had the reverse spell. The officer even stopped in front of me and peered at my blue eyes for what seemed like a minute but then turned away to the men. These were given more careful inspection, but with another order the soldiers picked up and marched from our camp, tightening the perimeter of their search of the small town even more. I almost sank to my knees in relief. I had escaped. The Turks finished their search of the town a day later. One or two men had been arrested on some suspicion or other. One had even been shot while trying to escape but Yayal said that the Turks were not likely to give up the search. "I do not want to keep this so-called disguise longer than I have to," I protested. The next few days were filled with embarrassment. I was bored sitting in the wagon, yet any time I ventured out, I was aware that the Gypsies were scrutinizing me. The tale of my change must have got out. Their reactions varied between smirks and sympathetic glances. Even worse, I was soon followed by a group of curious urchins and I hid away as much as possible. I was uncomfortable in their scrutiny and wanted to hide in the wagon but Zula almost dragged me out. "You need the air, and anyway, I have work for you to do," and she set me at peeling some vegetables and tending to the fire. Although the dress was long skirted, I was aware of the strange nakedness underneath and kept my legs well tucked under me. I fretted at the domestic tasks and began counting the days until I could change back. Ali rejoined us three days after I had regained consciousness, slipping into our camp one night. "Where have you been?" I asked. I realized he was appraising me. I flushed under his gaze. "Ah Giovanni, or is it Seradya? You are well changed indeed. Zula says it went easily for you. You had less discomfort than others." If this was easy, I wondered what difficult was. I also wondered how many others there had been. Zula had mentioned only two. "Be thankful you were off on your mission or whatever it was, or perhaps you would be similarly changed," I snarled. "They tell me that the Turks may still be looking for us, but if you are not disguised, then perhaps I need not be either." "Yes, but I am like a thousand other Gypsies, Greeks or even Turks. You are fair, one in a thousand in this country and as noticeable as a white dove in a flock of crows. How long since you took the spell? About four days perhaps? No, Giovanni, you should wait a full week. We do not want to kill you. So you must be satisfied with the name Seradya for some days yet. You should continue to use women's clothing too, just in case the Turks give us another search. You obviously have a woman's body and wearing men's clothes with it would attract their attention. You are also shorter than as a man. Your clothes would not fit. Now, have you decided how you want to go to Italy?" "I have decided that I will go north to Albania. Then I hope I can persuade some fisherman to take me across to Italy or just to Kerkyra. If not I will steal a boat. It is too far to Venice through the mountains, especially in winter." "Why not stay with us, at least over the winter?" I shook my head. "I want to get home to see my mother. I do not know if she is even still alive. I have been gone for years." "We are set to go north and you can come with us. Then in another four days you can read the reverse spell and get your male body back. We will remain with you until you are recovered but after that, I am sorry, my tribe intends to go east. My first duty should be to them, but I will go with you as far as the Straits of Otranto. Perhaps I can even help you steal a boat." "Where have you been these last days?" I asked. "Settling an old score. It was near here that I was arrested by the Turks when they sent me to the galleys. A man of another tribe betrayed me to them. We were old rivals for the hand of Zula. He hated me when I was the winner. I swore that it would be one of my first tasks, if I ever got free, to kill him." "And did you?" "Yes, but I made the pig plead for mercy first. Ah, usually Gypsies help each other, but we can be deadly enemies too." I shivered. Ali had seemed like an amiable person, but perhaps I did not know him. The Gypsy band set off the next day, heading north through a long valley in the mountains. Occasionally I saw the sea through breaks in the clouds, but then a fog blew in and we were closed in by the mountains. I do not like mountains. I am always afraid that they will come tumbling down on me. The Gypsies had both carts and wagons but all walked except the old and infirm. I tried to walk at first, but I suppose I was still weak from my change and soon Zula took my arm. Paying no attention to my protests she pushed me inside a wagon. Despite the jolting I fell asleep and was surprised that it was quite a few hours later when I woke . I tried to apologize, but Zula just smiled at me. "I told you the spell was severe". The next morning I felt better and I walked all of that day, although I slept in exhaustion that night. There was no respite from mountains. One valley led to another and in three days we reached a junction of three valleys. I was nervous about our narrow path hugging the side of the mountain. A cliff hung over us and far below us a river tumbled through a gorge. Ali and Zula had encouraging news that night after supper. "I think it is safe now," she said. "Tomorrow I will give you the reverse spell to read, and you can return to being a man. You will lose that woman's body, although, I must tell you, the spell was very successful. Your face is pretty, and your body has all the shape a woman could want -or a man could want," she smiled. "Now you should get a good sleep." Ali looked at me, a small curl of amusement at the corner of his lips. "I have to ask you, Giovanni. How has it been being a woman for a week?" I glared at him. "I hate it," I burst out. "I want out of this weak woman's body. It has an awkward shape, my hips and rear stick out and these breasts get in the way of everything I do. They are too sensitive as well, and I hate the exposed feeling in this woman's skirt. And I especially hate sitting down to relieve myself." I glared at him , but he just grinned at me. I stormed off to my pad in the wagon. But my change back was not to be. That night I was awakened by shouting, gunfire and screaming. I leaped out to see mounted men riding through the camp. There was more gunfire and one raider fell from the saddle. Ali was beside me, reloading a pistol. "I was careless," he gasped. "These are from the tribe of the man that I killed. Now they seek revenge. Get back into the wagon." I did not need to be told twice. I climbed into the wagon and cowered on the floor. I lay down to keep protected amid the fighting but all at once I felt a jolt and the wagon moved, then tipped. I screamed and tried to get out but the slope of the floor was too much even for my scrabbling fingers and I slid down. The slope suddenly increased and I was almost weightless as the wagon tipped over the brink of the precipice, with me in it. I was screaming, trying to find something to hold to, but it jolted and tumbled and I was thrown and battered about. I awoke in complete darkness, finding myself wedged somehow between several objects. It was too dark to see, but by the texture of one I recognised it as a tree root or branch. The other was smoother, but not cold like a rock It was dark and I was afraid to move but I was soaking wet and getting chilled. I desperately struggled out from my trap. One time I put my hand down and felt icy cold water and I felt the rush of the river. Yet I could see nothing. I decided to wait until light to see if it was safe to move. I carefully tested my limbs. My feet were numb, but I decided that was because of the cold. I inhaled deeply and felt a series of bruises, but no sharp pain. I decided none of my ribs were not broken. One arm was sore, but it seemed to move freely. At last it became a little lighter, and although I was in dim shadows, I was able to make out my situation. I was lying almost enclosed by earth, under an overhanging riverbank. I must have been swept there by the river, or somehow had managed to crawl there. I was wedged between a log and a plank, from the smashed wagon I supposed. I carefully extricated myself, trying to avoid a further soaking from the freezing