Natalie laughed. “You shouldn’t say such things around Calvin. He’s a regular glutton, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him.”
Kieran lived with his wife near the old watchtower, in an elegant townhouse. He ushered them inside, which was warm and lit invitingly with firelight and candles. As they removed their coats, a tall, pretty woman greeted them in the entryway.
“Janette, how lovely to see you again!” Julien said gallantly, and kissed her hand. “And may I say that you have grown even more stunning since last we met? I did not think that could be possible, but here you stand, proving me quite wrong.”
Janette’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh Julien, you know you’re the only man besides my Kieran that I have ever set my cap for! But you can’t cook to save your life, so the scales were tipped in his favor.”
“I knew I should have enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu!” he lamented. “Why are all the best women swiped out from under my nose?”
Kieran laughed while handing round glasses of wine. “Julien, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know you have left a trail of broken hearts in your wake!”
Julien and the Beaulieus spent a few minutes catching up on mutual friends, before sitting down to dinner. Kieran and Janette were antique dealers, and their home was filled with a diverse collection of furniture and artwork. Kieran favored Asian and Indian pieces while Janette was drawn to Italian and French artwork, so their home was decorated in a pleasing fusion of east and west.
Kieran, a devout Catholic, said a prayer of thanks for food and friends and began passing around plates. “This dish is called anguilles au vert,” he explained, “which is basically eels cooked with sorrel leaves in white wine. I like it on fried bread.”
He also passed around plates of ostrich pâté and a savory tart known as flamiche. Calvin was in seventh heaven and ate as if he had been starved for days.
“That’s so beautiful,” Natalie said, pointing at a large wall tapestry. “What’s the story behind it?”
“It’s funny you should notice that particular tapestry, Natalie, as it was a gift to my parents from your own family.” He glanced at Julien and bowed his head slightly, “A most extravagant one, to be sure.”
Julien smiled, saying, “It was no expense. It was a family heirloom, and I couldn’t think of a better couple to have it. Have I ever told you the story behind it?” he asked.
“No, but I’d love to hear it,” Kieran encouraged. “I’ve always meant to ask you about its origins.”
Uncle Julien cleared his throat. “Well, to begin, this tapestry tells the story of our family’s beginnings.” He looked at his niece and nephew intently. “This story will hold great interest for you children. Richard and I had planned to tell together someday, but …”
“He said we came from India, countless generations back,” Natalie interrupted, before he could finish. She didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence.
“Just so. And this tapestry depicts our migration.”
Calvin examined the tapestry with more interest. “It looks like they’re traveling through a desert,” he noted. “Are there deserts in India?”
“There is at least one great desert, in the northwest,” Julien replied. “It’s called the Thar, and it’s one of the most inhospitable places on earth. It borders Pakistan, and it is this desert which has been sewn into the tapestry.”
“But who made it?” Natalie asked. “It’s obviously very old, and how do you know it depicts our ancestors?”
“This tapestry was passed down from second son to second son, for hundreds of years, at least. I’ve never had a son, but that wasn’t the reason I gave this family heirloom to Kieran’s parents.” Uncle Julien paused dramatically. “I gave it to them to protect it.”
Janette looked unsurprised. “Kieran’s mother told me it was very important that we never, ever sell the tapestry or give it to anyone else, including a museum. She told me it was given to them in trust.”
“But why did it need protection?” Calvin asked his uncle.
“During the Nazi occupation of France, our family found it prudent to remove the tapestry from our house in Paris. My parents,” he nodded to Natalie and Calvin, “your great-aunt and uncle, were not on good terms with the Nazis. In fact, they were in considerable danger from them.”
“Why is that?” Natalie asked.
“Because it became known by the Third Reich that our family was Roma.”
Everyone stopped eating and stared at Julien, puzzled. “You mean gypsies?” Natalie asked, confused.
“Well, we don’t really like that term, but yes, that’s what I mean.”
“But our great-aunt and uncle weren’t nomads,” Calvin protested. “The Paris house has been in the family for at least two hundred years, hasn’t it?”
“That’s true, but consider our family as a whole.” Julien paused to gather his thoughts. “Richard couldn’t stay in one place for more than a month, and both of you are the same way. I don’t think Natalie has entered her flat since last August.”
Natalie looked a little abashed. “July, actually.”
“And Calvin,” his uncle said, fixing his eye on him seriously, “you are even worse than your sister. You appear on my doorstep every few months, freshly arrived from some far-flung corner of the globe.”
“Well, what about you, Uncle?” Calvin retorted. “You’re not exactly a stay-at-home type yourself!”
“You illustrate my point, dear boy. We are all of us wayfarers at heart, despite our thin veneer of civility.”
Natalie and Calvin considered this. It was true that they had an unusual family, who were generally unsettled, but gypsies? It seemed strange to imagine themselves as Romani when they were so wealthy. Calvin mentioned as much to his uncle.
“Gypsies are generally poor and live a hardscrabble life,” Uncle Julien agreed, “but there’s one difference between us and the rest of the tribe.”
“What’s that?” asked Kieran.
Uncle Julien looked around the table, then fixed his gaze on his niece and nephew. He hadn’t meant to tell them in this way, but things seemed to have a way of working out unexpectedly. “Our family name, Romarin, is really a mutation,” he explained. “In ancient times it was Rom, and as our family migrated, our name evolved to what it is today. What I’m trying to say is that we are the leaders and progenitors of that tribe, the Roma.”
The First Gypsies
Kieran refilled wineglasses and lay a plate of truffles before them. “I knew you were an ancient family, Julien, but I had no idea just how ancient, or how totally Bohemian.”
“What do you mean we’re leaders?” Calvin asked, interrupting. “Gypsies don’t have leaders, do they? They aren’t a traditional sort of tribe by any means. Even I know that.”
“Indeed you are absolutely right,” Julien explained. “The Roma have no masters, and I’m not trying to say that our family makes any attempt to rule over them. We are simply their figureheads. Our purpose is to occasionally intervene, and sometimes to guide our people. We make no laws, nor do we require anything from them. The Roma have survived by their own adaptability. As head of the tribe,