Behind the gypsies

Belle and Shankel came from a proud line of circus gypsies that spanned six generations back. There was no fixed address, nor any specific town to call home. Back then life was all a big adventure to them, they met new people and left them where they met just like that. For Belle she'd missed a few of them, one being this innocent boy called Charlie. A boy of a humbled church background and always neat hair. He was told only rude boys have messy hair, he'd found his father's brill cream to keep his hair neat. His father was dead from the previous war and his mother never remarried.

She was quite fond of him, he was not rude nor acted like his brother a bruiser boy.

The circus family for Shankel was like one big fight in the hay ring. He'd been introduced early and gained a reputation for being the initiator in most of his fights. Most of the older boys and men were tough guys and weren't afraid to show others up. He'd fight most of them to show he wasn't weak, for the weak were meat for the other; or at least that's what the ring master told him. The older boys would gang up on him, steal his food or anything else he'd have that they wanted. So he didn't want to be weak, he wanted they're respect or the authority over them.

The family was run by an old man and woman, both firm and pleasant to be around in a crowd. By yourself with them and they were rot itself, a bitter cancerous pair they were. The old man was Rodney shank, a gambling man and former sailor. He'd been on nearly every oceon named and seen most countries, some were believed to be made there were that many. He was bitter because he hated his wife, but could not see himself with anyone else. He drank in between travels and left the set up and take down to his wife. He was the face of the circus which was enough for him. He had this small line of rope tied into two knots on either end with a ring for a finger grip, he'd flip one side in and out his left hand whilst holding the ring side knot. It was his therapeutic escape minus the drinking.

His wife dora shank was a task master and had a knack for drinking more any man in family, however she was able to hold her alcohol better. She'd liked whiskey and was not against German beer, needless to say she was a big woman. She had nothing but bitter words for Rodney, but never left him. As much as he complained, put her down and told all the boys to man up and never get married she'd never lose love for him.

Both Belle and Shankel had to work for they're food and respect. Nothing was ever free, and they were reminded everyday. People stole from them and they were just told to never let it happen. So Shankel took up the ring as a life and circus act, nothing of his was worth keeping and only food and clothes were fought for. Belle took up knife throwing and sword swallowing, she'd liked knives but after her training she'd now seen knives as part of her life. Axes and hatchets were for brutes with half a brain as far as she was concerned. After place by place, lovers and lost loves they grew that aura of 'don't fuck with me' and it was only getting more and more prominent. Especially in Belle. She had now become an icon of feminine power in the family, which Dora now an older and bitter woman did not like. The boys which were now young men wanted and feared her, she knew them well enough not to want they're type. That type being the heart breaker or spineless talker. Shankel developed his reputation in the ring now as a prominent fighter, and alpha the pack of young men. He'd never cared where the family went, just for a good fight and plenty of coin by the end of the night.

When Dora passed away, Rodney softened up and was almost a completely different person. He wasn't a hard ass but trying to be a wise man. He gave up the ring master job, gave it to Belle but she refused. Instead it went to her cousin who'd also taken up Rodney's therapy technique of the knotted rope. She had an interest in making money independently but for the family. Dora told her all her life before her passing that men will buy whiskey if it has a pretty girl holding it, and they're all drunken animals once alcohol is added. She knew there was a source of income from the drunken animals. Shankel ran the hay ring when he was not fighting, at times there would be a contender that contested his rules and sometimes even challenged him. They were usually bigger and already had a few bruises already thinking they're hard enough to take him. They always landed on they're ass.

Travelling Londonway was not a life but a means to follow the money where it was most likely to be profitable. No deal was done fairly, nor on anything but they're terms. There were some types of people the family would never afiliate with nor link they're name with. The lads army were one they liked, along with some higher up groups like the cyrus family. Both were clean of known dishonest acts, even though all knew they were not clear of such a thing.

When the war started, the gypsies joined or else they'd be ostracised for not serving for they're country. It was hard times for the military so conscription of all able bodied young and older men were necessary. Being a gypsy still meant unfair treatment, and also meant the toughest jobs with only criticism from officers. They were never split up though, it made it easier for the gypsies and and officers to find them. Once deployed they had been trained to infiltrate and burn trenches with extreme prejudice. No support was given, just orders and when it had to happen. Officers didn't even directly give them the orders. The gypsy lads lost many men, and the few that came back not as heroes but potential criminals outside of the gypsy family. Shankel got closer to drinking but still kept fighting as a business and sport, he'd grown accustomed to instilling fair fights in the ring for as long as cheap shots fitted in well enough. He neither wanted to be under government hand or rules. It was now the gypsy way, no other would do.