[Stefano]: 26.Fantasy.Stefano - The Making

The shadows drew closer, darker, until they pressed against his very being. The night air covered him in its cold blanket as his breathing slowed. Although he was lying on rocky ground, there was little sensation of roughness against his back. What has happened to me? His life began to play out before him; a performance filled with recollections of pleasure and delight, pain and sorrow...

. . . . .

“Stefano, think fast!” He spun around at the warning, but was unable to evade the snowball. It hit his solar plexus squarely, knocking him off his feet. He lay there for a moment, gasping, before his body shook with laughter. As he started to rise Jacob was there, helping him stand.

“I’m sorry, Stef. I had no idea you just turn around and get hit.” Jacob grin sheepishly, hoping for forgiveness. Stefano chuckled in reply.

“I’m not hurt ... much ... Jacob. But how quickly can you think?” The young man suddenly leaped at his friend, bringing him to the ground. With agility he began to sweep the surrounding snow onto his victim’s face and neck.

Jacob sputtered, turning his head side to side. “Enough, enough! You win!” He coughed before he too was in the throes of joyous laughter. Wiping snow from his face he looked at Stefano. “You know, if Thaygen saw us out here, instead of at camp studying, we would be done for.”

Stefano moved to one side and lay on the snow, still laughing gently. “All too true, my friend. I’ll never understand why he is so against having any enjoyment in life.”

Jacob sat up and mimicked their instructor’s voice, trying to look stern. “’Frivolity only leads to destruction. Any man who gives into the temptations of pleasure is doomed to a life of mediocrity and remains a simple gypsy forever.’”

“And what’s wrong with being a gypsy? We were born into it.”

“He thinks we should rise above our surroundings. Lead our own caravan. Be important.”

Stefano chuckled. “I intend to ‘be important’. I just plan on having fun on the way.”

“’Frivolity only leads to destruction’”. Jacob warned again, his tonality even closer to the elder’s resonant speech.

“Poor man. He needs a night of drinking. Maybe even a tavern wench.”

“Or at least a good friend.”

Stefano looked across at Jacob, his dark eyes reflecting his affection. “I would be lost without you, you know. Say you’ll always be my friend.”

“Always and forever, Stef. Even if you do have the speed of a tortoise and the brains of Garon’s mule.” With that Jacob stood, tossing handfuls of snow at his friend before darting across the field towards the main camp, a grinning Stefano at his heels

. . .

“I’m sorry, the fall from his horse broke his neck. He must have died immediately. When we found him he had already become cold. Your horse was barely a stone’s throw away, grazing.”

Stefano nodded to his father-in-law as he ran a shaky hand through his thick black hair. How am I supposed to go on without you, Jacob? What happened to ‘always and forever’? Sorrow pounded against him as he made his way towards the center of camp. As he neared the core, Sarah climbed down from their wagon. She had expected bad news when her father came for Stefano, one look at his expression confirmed it.

“You don’t need to say it, my love; it is written on your face. Here, sit before the fire and I will get you something to drink.”

Stefano looked at his wife, his face a mask of grief. “He’s gone, Sarah. He’s truly gone. I never should have let him take Belhayden. The stallion is too uncontrollable. I should have sold it when I had the chance. If only I had not let Jacob take him...”

“Don’t blame yourself, my heart. You know as I do that Jacob was a strong-willed man, and would do as he pleased. He proved that every time he would visit. I am just sorry you have lost such a good and loyal friend.” Sarah led her distraught husband to a place by the fire before turning back to their wagon.

. . .

“Congratulations, Stefano, you have a son.” The midwife smiled as she gave the news. “Sarah would like to see you.”

“Thank you, Tavona. If ever you should need of anything, you only have to ask.” Stefano turned and climbed onto the wagon, slipping through the coverlet door. He stopped just inside and gazed at Sarah and the infant. I have a son. He stepped to the bed and knelt beside it, greeting Sarah with a gentle kiss on the cheek. “We shall call him Jacob.”

Sarah turned her loving eyes to her husband and smiled. “I could accept nothing less, my love. Here, hold your son.”

. . .

Stefano stood shock still, staring blankly as the flames of the funeral pyre. “Now I have no one.” His voice was a pained whisper. He turned to listen as the Garon, head of the caravan spoke. 

“The plague takes many of us. Too many. We give honor in memory of those lost. First Tavona, then Raphe, then my beloved Sarah.” He paused, his mournful gaze on Stefano. “And now Jacob. We must move on, far from this land of death. We leave in two days.” He stepped forward, placing his hands on Stefano’s shoulders. “I am sorry, my son. But know this, when you married my daughter you became family. I have heard rumor that you plan on leaving us. I ask that you do not. You are all that remains for me.”

Stefano nodded, only half hearing what was said. He saw no purpose to anything. He remained silent as the others, one by one, moved back to the center of camp, until he stood alone. He made no attempt to stop the flow of tears. Only when the fire had turned to embers and the embers gone cold, did he return to his own wagon. The quiet of the empty shell seemed to echo the void in his soul.

. . .

“His name is Vargon; he has a wagon a stone’s throw from here.” Garon looked between his son-in-law and the new arrival. “He too is Romani, though more a traveler than most. Much like Jacob in that sense, I suppose.” He paused, unsure what Stefano’s reaction would be to the mention of Jacob. 

Stefano smiled slightly, belying the agony of his heart. He looked to the man and extended his arm. “Welcome to our camp, Vargon. May your days be blessed with sunshine and your night with the comfort of friends.”

Vargon took the offered hand briefly. “Your welcome is kind. Will you both join me around your fire for drink and talk?”

The two men nodded and the three headed for the center of camp. Vargon looked closely at Stefano, exploring the man’s face. “You have suffered much grief, good friend. Perhaps while I am here you will speak of it; telling our sorrows can weaken their weight. Though naught can remove their sting.” he added quietly.

Stefano sat near the fire, looking across the dancing flames at the stranger in their camp. “Perhaps, friend Vargon. We shall see what the night unfolds.”

. . .

Stefano looked out over the still waters of the lake, his mind a jumble of emotions. He enjoyed Vargon’s presence, but something weighed heavily on his heart whenever the man was near. He reminds me so much of Jacob. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and pivoted to return to camp when Vargon appeared in the path before him.

“Am I disturbing you?” Vargon’s voice resonated deep within his chest.

“Not at all, good friend. I was only thinking.”

“And grieving. Your face tells the secrets of your heart, Stefano. You carry around a lot of pain.”

“What is to be done? It is bare the pain or bare nothing at all.” He paused only a moment. “I still believe feeling pain is the better of the two.”

Vargon chuckled softly. “I would have to agree with you.” He stepped beside Stefano and gazed across the water. “Though I believe it is time you released the guilt and sorrow.”

“I cannot, though I have tried many times.” Stefano turned to also look at the lake. “If you have some secret that will remove my pain, I wish to hear it.”

“Sometimes the cure can be more painful than the sickness. At least initially.”

Stefano arched a brow as he faced Vargon. “More pain I can accept, if it leads to no pain. Or even less pain.”

Vargon placed a hand on Stefano’s shoulder. “Tell me you are willing, and I will help you cross that barrier.”

Stefano gazed into Vargon’s eyes, feeling the weight return, but with it a sense of peace, acceptance, and even affection. “Whatever you must do, I am willing. I cannot carry the pain any further.”

Vargon nodded and moved, closing the gap between them. He leaned in, kissing the nape of Stefano’s neck.

Stefano inhaled quickly, but leaned his head to the side. Suddenly his eyes opened wide as he felt the pain of Vargon’s bite. He moved to pull away, but the other took both Stefano’s shoulders and held him close. The pain subsided, filling Stefano again with the sense of peace and affection. His eyes closed as the world seemed to fade away.

. . . . .

The shadows fully engulfed Stefano as he fought to remain aware. Vargon... The thought came to Stefano gradually as his vision returned, though clouded and indistinct. 

I am here. The response sounded in his mind, unspoken, but as clear as if vocalized. He blinked and looked about him. Vargon was kneeling at his side, one hand resting on Stefano’s chest.

“I ... what happened?”

Vargon smiled as he replied. “I have taken your pain, son. And brought you to my own.”

“I thought I was dead.” Stefano’s voice was calm, though his eyes registered uncertainty.

Vargon answered as Stefano slipped into a deep sleep. “No, my chylde. Now you will truly live.”