Read The Cathedral of Cliffdale for Free Online

from town to town, city to city, crossing continents in their ceaseless search. The Blackmans' history dated back to the very beginning of the gypsies’ heritage, over a thousand years of endless seeking. Balthazar’s sixteen-year old son, Jonas, shifted beside him. He had been napping on and off since they set out this morning, but the dry, breathless heat was rousing him.
    “Here,” Balthazar nudged Jonas with the water bottle and the younger man jerked awake, glaring at the bottle with bleary eyes. Yawning widely, showing exceptionally good teeth for someone who had never once visited a dentist, Jonas took the bottle and swigged.
    “Where are we?” he asked, rubbing his nose, with a hand so big it covered almost his entire face. He was a tall, lanky boy, strong as an ox, with dark messy hair and heavy-lidded eyes.
    “In the middle of nowhere,” Balthazar laughed at the rhetorical question. It didn’t matter where they were; the only thing that mattered was their ultimate destination.
    “Same place as yesterday, then,” Jonas grumbled. Balthazar tried to recall his own teen years and how he had questioned the nomadic lifestyle and the seemingly impossible task of finding the City. Jonas had reached an age where he no longer simply accepted his father’s beliefs, and had begun to challenge their way of life. Balthazar understood his son’s frustration and his selfish longing for a more stable upbringing, but Jonas did not yet comprehend the importance of their mission. He would understand in time, Balthazar tried to convince himself.
    Jonas said nothing more, settling into a sullen silence that stretched across a few more miles, while Balthazar focused on the barren landscape ahead. Their pace was agonisingly slow; the old converted delivery truck that belonged to Rowena, in particular, could not travel above fifty miles per hour and Rowena threw a fit if they pulled too far ahead of her. Despite their ten-year relationship, Rowena insisted on her independence and would not relinquish her clapped-out old truck, no matter how much it slowed them down. Most of the women travelled in the back of Rowena’s truck. Rowena was a strong, fiery woman, whose family had contributed just as much to the search for the City as Balthazar’s own. When Jonas’ mother had passed away shortly after his birth, Balthazar had been certain he would never love again. He had known Rowena all his life but she had always been one of those women who showed no interest in men – channelling all of her passion and energy into finding the City instead.
    When Balthazar’s wife had died, Rowena had been surprisingly supportive, stepping in to help him with baby Jonas. It had been years before he had finally summoned the courage to act on his blooming affection for her, and, to his utmost astonishment, she had reacted with far more passion than he had ever expected. Jonas adored her too, since she was the only mother figure he had ever known and Balthazar had spent the better part of a decade trying to convince her to marry him, to no avail. ‘Why fix what isn’t broken?’ was her standard response to his frequent proposals. Their relationship, however, kept Rowena safe from the ardent demands of the other men in their camp. Single women were fair game, expected to answer the sexual demands of the men. It was an accepted part of their culture, but Balthazar knew Rowena didn’t like it one bit. She couldn’t change it, but she did her best to ensure that the women were treated well. On more than one occasion, Rowena had intervened when things had gotten out of hand after a drunken night. Balthazar had often noticed men in camp becoming violently ill after mistreating one of Rowena’s girls. Nobody would admit that Rowena’s herbs might have been the cause, but Balthazar knew better. Her potions were another reason Rowena was left alone. The gypsies relied on her cures and antidotes, not to mention that selling her wares at local