An early 11th century Russian girl from Kiev

My story starts long before I was born. It started with my mother and her fascination with the gypsies. My mother was born to a landed Russian noble. Kiev (Prince of Paladin) was her homeland and her father farmed the land with the help of many servants who were very loyal, or so I was told. The gypsies often passed through on their way to.... who knows. My grandmother was a pampered nobleman's wife. She spoiled my mother terribly. She was never made to behave. My grandfather on the other hand believed in discipline and honor. My mother was an only child because my grandmother became distant from my grandfather after my mother was born. She feared getting pregnant again would ruin her beauty. My grandfather often found companionship else, where, which was fine with my grandmother. My grandmother was from a well off family herself and was spoiled as a child.

To get back to my story, as my mother got older she discovered that her father had a fascination with the gypsies too. One day she uncovered a secret; she had a brother and a sister from a beautiful gypsy woman. This fact troubled my mother greatly, more so when she got older. She feared claims on her birthright. As time went on she became comfortable with the way things were. My mother's one true love was my father, a Russian gypsy who was in one of the groups that passed across her lands. He was about 10 years older then my mother was and he watched her grow up.

One bright spring day my mother was walking down by the creek letting the wind blow in her hair when she caught my father's eye. He went down to the creek to talk to her. Well to make a long story short she announced there intent to her father that afternoon. Her father was taken back by this news, because he had a nobleman's son all picked out for her. After a few days of thought he agreed to let them marry. So a month later my parents were married, but upon the marriage my father left the gypsy band. This was something that was not done easily. This is where the real trouble began.

The gypsy band that my father came from was very militant; one did not leave the band. One could add to it, but not leave it. To try to leave the band meant death to you and your family. My father did not heed the warning; he loved my mother and trusted my grandfather. For a long time my grandfather kept everyone safe. But as time went on my grandfather grew older, weaker and eventually died. This is where my story begins. For about three years after my grandparents died everything was peaceful. My parents settled in and even added land and servants to the family lands. One stormy night as the winds howled I was born. My father was drinking from one of my mother's fancy teacups when the midwife told him of my birth, dropped the teacup. He was so sure that I was going to be a boy. In his state of mind, he looked down at the teacup and said messy teacup. With the howling wind the midwife heard Mezteaka and thought it was the baby's name. My mother was not expecting a name so soon, so she nicknamed me Teka and it just stuck. For about a week things were blissful. My father had gone out to get to work and was killed. They came in and attacked my mother and took me. For many years the gypsies raised me as their own. Some how they kept my first name, maybe my mother told them or called out for me, I do not know. I was 16 when I found out the truth. I silently vowed to find my parents' killer and make it right. I later found out my mother was not killed that day. By the time that I found her she had passed away. Some of the older servants and some relatives that came to help my mother with the lands told me of my lands and inheritance. Since I was forced into the gypsy life I was released and I settled into the life of a landed noble. From time to time strangers would pass through our lands for trade or looking for things. One sunny summer day I met an Irish wanderer who promised to help me find my father's killer. I think it was the money and possible lands I had to offer that made him agree to help me.

It took a few years to find the killer and in those years I found the Irishman was kind and not at all what I expected him to be. With my past sorted out I looked forward to my feature. The Irish wanderer did not leave, he stayed to help me with my lands or so he told me.

After about six months everyone was talking about a possible upcoming wedding. One of the servant girls asked me one morning, when I was going to marry my wanderer? I had not given it much thought up until that moment; I just smiled and went back to work. Later that day my Irish wanderer (Killian) approached me with an idea. How about a late spring wedding? Well, to make a long story shorter that following spring we were married. The rest of the story you know.

The Honorable Lady Teka Turmanov resides in the Shire of Al-Sahid in the Kingdom of Caid.