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I was born in 1490 in Polotsk, Lithuania, in the heart of the Jewish Quarter. In 1495, after charges of blood libel, my village was razed and plundered in one of the worst pogroms of the 15th century. Though few adults survived, most of the town’s children were spared for a different fate. We were kidnapped and transported in crowded wagons to Cracow, Poland, where we were forcibly converted to Catholicism before being sold into slavery. I was sold to a very cruel owner and forced to work in a less-than-savory establishment. It was nearly five years before I found an opportunity to attempt escape. In the winter of 1500, while running errands in the marketplace I discovered that a tribe of Romanii Gypsies were performing in the city and had set up camp just past the city gates. The next night I took my chance and slipped away with a knapsack and a small knife I’d stolen from the kitchen. I found my way to the Gypsies’ campsite and begged them to take me in. One man spoke up for me - Mordechai ben Avram - and said that he would take me as his sister. For nearly five years I lived and worked with the tribe. I learned many skills from the Gypsies, and performed with them as a singer, dancer, musician, and storyteller. At the same time, Mordechai saw to my Jewish education, and taught me to read and write. In the summer of 1505 the tribe was passing close to the border of Spain and Portugal. Mordechai felt that it was time for me to further my Jewish education, and to find me a proper Jewish husband, so he decided that we should leave the tribe and take up residence in the thriving Jewish Quarter in Lisbon, Portugal. Our timing could not have been worse. Scarcely a year had passed before the dark cloud of the Inquisition moved into Portugal, and in 1506 the violence towards Jews came to a head with the Lisbon Massacre. Mordechai and I were seperated, and I had little choice but to assume him dead. Alone, I traveled to Southern Spain where I found work as a tavern singer in Sevilla and took up residence in the caves of Andalucia with the Jews, Gitano Gypsies, Moors, and other misfits who had no reason to love the crown. One hot summer evening in 1509 I was working in the tavern, singing and flirting with my customers. One rather drunk patron got a little grabby and the next thing I knew, he’d been knocked out and I was being carried over someone’s shoulder kicking and screaming. A couple of windy backstreets later I was placed back and the ground, and just as I started to wind up for a good solid punch, I discovered the identity of my captor. It seemed that Mordechai was not so easy to kill. At this time, Mordechai was in the employ of the Good Ship White Star, so after the unexpected reunion, Mordechai brought me back to his ship, where he proceeded to convince Captain Lot and his lovely Lady Cat to take me on as the Bard of the White Star. In very little time, the ship became my home and her crew and passengers my family. For a brief time I left the ship to travel to the East Kingdom and spread the glory of the White Star throughout the knowne world. I returned to the White Star after only a year, with a sailor of my own in tow. At this last King’s Hunt, Dylan of Cardiff and I were married in a joyful celebration hosted by the ship’s cook, Pellian Chickensbane. Dylan and I now serve the White Star together, him as the newest Powder Monkey, and myself as the ship’s Bard. back |
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