For a moment there was an awkward silence but then, seeing the widow was smiling, everyone laughed.

‘A story,’ said Georgeta. ‘Yes, Edith – tell us a story.’

More chairs were found for the musicians and more wine was poured.

That evening Edith cast a spell over the party, telling the story of a shepherd and his bride. The musicians played to fit the tale – the bang of the drum for the villain, the violin and the cello for the souls of the hero and heroine – and Edith seamlessly brought out the light and the dark, as all good weavers of words should. She fashioned the story out of her grandmother’s many tales and stitched it together with her own wit into something that chimed with all who were present. She was pleased to see she brought both laughter and a tear to the eye and as she came to the end she picked up the violin and played a last note that fell into the silence.

The guests clapped and called for more.

‘One is enough,’ said Edith.

The evening drew to an end. The air had turned cold and the guests and the musicians congratulated the lovers and left into the dark of a spring night.

Flora said, ‘We’re leaving tomorrow. Be at the forge at dawn if you want to come with us. And don’t forget your embroidery.’

Edith closed the gate and found she was disappointed that Zamfir hadn’t come.

Chapter Thirty-Four

A Myriad of Stars

The house fell silent. Edith put on her fur hat with the antlers and her grandmother’s coat of fables and poured a glass of wine. In her mind she heard the music of the violin. She went outside. The sky was a canopy of stars and she put out her arms and began to spin, round and round, until she saw Zamfir watching her.

‘I have a story for you,’ he said. ‘One I don’t think you’ve heard before.’

Edith went to take off her hat, but he said, ‘Keep it on – it suits you.’

She offered him a glass of wine.

‘People have the queerest idea about us circus folk,’ Zamfir said as they sat down on the verandah steps. He took a sip of his wine. ‘They think we’re immoral and that we drink ourselves to death after a life of vice. It’s not true. We live simple lives and we look after each other. I think you know how it is when you’re seen in a light that doesn’t reflect the truth of who you are. You have a gift with story; tonight you used three that I know well and changed them and made them into your own brew.’

‘You heard me?’

‘Yes. But I have a story for you. It’s about your beginning, where you came from.’

Edith thought of when Demetrius had told her how the violin had come into the world.