There were a total of six families in the small caravan, with forty-six people among them, including the children. They intermarried as they were able, yet sometimes there were not enough brides or grooms to choose from, from so few families, and in such times they would search for other caravans like theirs in hopes there would be marriageable young ones in the same need. They met and dealt with countless people in their travels, yet these were outsiders, Gajos, and those of pure blood would never consider these outsiders for marriage.

Ivan was losing patience with the delay of his son’s wedding as well. He had already paid the bride price for this wife for Nicolai. His word was law, yet he would not gainsay Maria. She was their luck, their good fortune. To ignore Maria’s predictions would be the death of them. They firmly believed this. Yet he could not choose another bride for his son either. Only Maria’s granddaughter would do, her only living descendant, the only one who could continue to bring them their good fortune when Maria passed on.

Tonight, as usual, they made camp near the town they had passed through during the day. They never camped too close to a town, just close enough to give the townsfolk easy access to them, and vice versa. In the morning the women would walk to the town and knock on every door, offering their services, be it the selling of trinkets or finely made baskets, or the telling of fortunes, which their caravan was known for.

They would also advertise the skills of their men, for the Lautaru caravan possessed some of the finest wagonmakers in the world. Everything earned was shared by all, for ownership of property was alien to them. Which was why a few of those women might come home with a stolen chicken or two.

If a wagon was ordered, they might stay in the vicinity for a week; if not, they would be gone within a day or two. Occasionally, if it was taking too long, they would leave the wagonmakers behind to catch up with them once their job was finished. Signs would be left along the roads to guide them back to the caravan.

This was necessary when people such as they were the scapegoats for any crime, whether they committed it or not. If caravans like theirs were in the area, fingers would begin to point at them if they were there too long. They could make camp within minutes; they could pack up and leave even quicker. From long experience and the persecution of their kind for centuries, they had learned to be able to be back on the road again on a moment’s notice.

They were wanderers; it was in their blood, the need to travel, to see what was over the next horizon. The young adults had seen most of Europe. The older ones had seen Russia, and the countries surrounding it. They tended to stay in a country long enough to learn its language fairly well, if circumstances didn’t chase them out beforehand. A wealth of languages was a benefit to any traveler. Ivan prided himself on knowing sixteen different languages.