Eason was first to find voice. "Romany! Romany, you?!? But your mother, Chelsea Westerfield, of the Hempstead Westerfields -"
"- was taken in by the Westerfields, as a heathen orphan, by Lord Westerfield, and raised in an English manor," Percilla finished. "And her name wasn't Chelsea at birth, it was Francesca, Francesca Tzibiu. Haven't you divined now, where my features come from?"
"Um, well, you were always so, well..." Thurgood tried to interject, but trailed off at Eason's glare.
"Different? Yes, Thurgood, not the milquetoast English creamy complexion, at all," Percilla said with rising anger, "but a mixed breed of proper England and the Romany, and I know both cultures equally."
"Then, Percilla," Thurgood blurted, "you can read the writing?"
"Yes, of COURSE! The scroll!" Eason almost shouted, his excitment returning. "Thurgood, clever man, has reminded us. Percilla, please, solve this mystery for us!"
Percilla felt as a cornered cat must feel, being trapped into revealing the knowledge contained therein. But also, like the proverbial cat, her curiosity rose once more. Uncle Edgar was dead. Both her parents were dead. All those who might know the tale of her past, and the meaning of the rumors, were gone. But here, in her grasp, was a key. And what was it, that Edgar told her?
"Not everything is obvious... what is a key, but a device to open a lock, and it matches the lock itself, and not your preconcieved views. Your first lesson of many, darling niece!"
Slowly, Percilla crossed back to the table, turned the document over, and stared at it in silence, trying to recall scraps of learning from years gone by, conversations with her mother, or the occasional visitor in the night, who left before the dawn, and whom Mother always allowed to lodge in the house.
"It's hard to read," Percilla said finally, "I don't recall clearly all of the Rom language. Mommy taught me to speak it, better than read it - most Romany lore is oral tradition anyway, passed down through the generations. To set it down on paper, is the mark of something momentous that must be recorded, like a contract, or a treaty."
"But, Percilla, don't keep us in such suspense!" Thurgood said. "what does the bloody thing say??"
"I am Dmitri, son of Stefan of the Nagesti. I am telling these words to my good friend and grandfather of our clan, Zsigismund Nagy, who has taught me to write, but he being the master still, shall put these, my words, to paper, so that those who follow us shall remember, though we are gone from God's beautiful world.
"In the year of the Church of Rome, it is called eighteen hundred and eighty-three. Queen Victoria the German sits upon the throne of England, long these many years. The Hapsburgs still rule in Hungary, as do the Romanovs in Mother Russia. But in our home, the faraway land beyond the forest, the old noble lines fade into the mountains. But the clans remember.
"The clans remember the oaths of old days, taken by our ancestors, binding all of our line to their fulfillment, such is the nature of the spoken word. Our fathers before our fathers told us this, and we know it is true. The story of The Order of The Dragon must not be forgotten, and shall not by the Romany, their people..."
"The Order of the Dragon! That explains the crest at last!" Thurgood exclaimed. "But, I've not heard of such an order until now, and I thought in university, I knew them all..."
"Quiet, Thurgood, let her continue," Eason said, hanging on Percilla's every word with widening eyes. And Percilla went on:
"It is in this year, that the passing of the last true-lined member of The Order of the Dragon has come at last. The great lord, Mircea Szilagy, Baron of Sibiu', lies with his fathers. But not with him does the blood end. For among the Romany, we remember, that the good Baron, a man of honor, had one mistress only in his life, and that faithful woman bore him a daughter, the fair Elizabet'a, who has been raised among us, and shall be taught her true bloodline when the time comes.
"This document shall serve as the key, to unlock the true blood of Elizabet'a Szilagy, when it is time for the blood to awaken once again, and the Order be restored to its rightful place in the land beyond the forest."