Wolves

by W. A. Hoffman

  “Well that is not good,” Rucker said, sounding very much like Theodore.

  “Has Theodore heard of this?” I asked.

  Their heads shook in unison.

  “I ’aven’t wished ta bother the poor man,” Liam said. “’E be lookin’ like ’e stood at the gates o’ Hell an’ ’e’s na learned ’e be home yet.”

  “That would be true,” I sighed.

  “Will, what happened with Mistress Theodore?” Rucker asked.

  I sighed and looked to Gaston. He gave me a reassuring smile.

  I sighed again and let it spill out. “The babe was dead and rotting inside her and her body refused to labor. I had to cut it up and pull it through her passage, which was not as open as it should have been.”

  They grimaced in unison, and then Rucker’s hand flew to his mouth and he looked away.

  Liam began to swear slowly and quietly, leavening in a few choice French terms along the way.

  Rucker looked to Gaston and frowned anew.

  “I suffered a bout of my madness upon learning what we must do,” my matelot said sadly. “Will was forced to do it to save her life— if her life was indeed saved.”

  “Who all saw it?” Liam asked.

  “Father Pierre, Hannah, and the Theodore’s,” I said. “Gaston was there, but I had told him to close his eyes. I drugged us all. I truly and thankfully do not recall most of it: it is as if it were a dream.”

  “I remember nothing,” Gaston added.

  “So Muri was na’ there?” Liam asked.

  “She was when we learned what we must do. Doucette actually told us. For that matter, Yvette heard of it, too. The Doucettes had been absent for some time when I began. As for Muri, she heard and then argued with Hannah and then she left. Hannah expressed reluctance, and said she could not aid in the surgery itself, but she would stay and… Well, clean up after me. I retched myself dry.

  “I feel Muri and Hannah objected on religious grounds—their religion,” I added. “I should ask Hannah, I suppose.”

  “Ask Sam,” Liam said. “He’s lyin’ with ’er.”

  “Which one?” I asked with surprise.

  “Muri.”

  “Well, good for him I suppose,” I said.

  “Nay,” Liam said bitterly. “’E were just doin’ what I did: fuckin’ a cow ’cause there weren’t nothin’ else.”

  I winced. “Liam, you seemed quite fond of her when first you told me of your marriage.”

  He sighed. “I was. A man can talk ’imself inta a lot o’ things.” He met my gaze. “I love my son, though, Will. I’ll be damned if I lose him. I will na’ lose another.”

  I recalled Otter and him speaking of an Indian wife who had been taken by the Spanish: there had been a child.

  And here I was taking his child away. “Do not hate her,” I said.

  I saw the path ahead of me: it was truth. It just happened to run along the top of a very steep cliff. I looked to Gaston. He frowned with curiosity until he divined my intent, and then he nodded.

  “I…” I began, only to stop and wonder how to say it. There was still a part of me—not my Horse, or even precisely my Man—who wished to mitigate the damage as much as possible. “After the… surgery, I was drug-addled and… raving somewhat. I stumbled down into the atrium and I prayed… I beseeched the Goddess Diana—she who the Romans thought protected women in the matter of childbirth. I asked her to aid Rachel—that Mistress Theodore should not die. And I asked that she protect and aid the other women I knew, and prevent their ever having to suffer such as Rachel was.”

  They stared at me, uncomprehending for a time, and then one by one their eyes widened with surprise as understanding dawned.

  “And Henrietta heard you praying to a Roman deity?” Rucker asked.

  “Aye, I saw her, and she was staring at me with… fear and… revulsion, I suppose.”

  “Will, you’re going to get burned,” Bones said sadly.

  “So she truly saw you doin’ a heathen thing?” Liam asked. There was no recrimination in his tone or mien, only curiosity and, oddly, cunning.

  “Well, I was merely standing there in the rain. It is more that she heard me do a heathen thing.”

  “And you were ravin’ mad?” Liam asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I truly am a heathen and a heretic— beyond that which is constituted by my being an Englishman and not papist by birth.”

  Bones regarded me as if I were condemned.

  Rucker was regarding me with wonder. “How do you know how to beseech the Gods of antiquity? Have you done so before, and to what result?”

  “We are still alive,” Gaston said thoughtfully. “He has prayed for us to live before, and we have lived… But that is proof of nothing. It is more that…” he sighed. “I cannot explain it. There is simply faith.”

  “You too?” Bones asked with a tragic expression.

  I looked to Rucker. “I have never stood about and prayed aloud except for that night. I… the words just came—somewhat unbidden. So perhaps I was raving. From what I recall of it, I patterned some of what I said on what I recall of Hesiod.”

  “Were you speaking in Greek?” he asked. “Your Greek is atrocious. I mean no offense, and I take full responsibility—as I was your teacher—but if you are beseeching Greek or Roman Gods in Greek, then it is a miracle you have not been struck down by lightning bolts.”

  He was not jesting: he was quite earnest.

  Gaston began to shake with amusement that finally emerged as a slow sputter of laughter.

  I sighed and considered smacking both of them.

  “Henrietta don’t speak Greek,” Liam said suddenly.

  “I do not know if I prayed in Greek,” I said emphatically.

  He shook his head. “Well, iffn’ ya did, ya could tell the priests that you were prayin’ ta the Virgin and my damn wife just didna’ understand.”

  “Well, if we employ a strategy of that nature, then simply telling them Will was drugged and raving might suffice,” Rucker said, his assessment of my Greek apparently forgotten.

  I was beginning to feel as if I stood in a dream. “Do none of you—other than Bones’ concerns that I will be burned for it—care that I am a heathen?” I asked.

  Liam frowned at me. “Haven’t ya always been? You’ve always been talkin’ o’ the Gods and the like.”

  “I have, but… the faith was not there until recently.”

  “You truly believe in the Roman Gods?” Rucker asked as if he were attempting to determine my understanding of some philosophic principle, and not as if he was questioning the ravings of a madman who had just professed to be at odds with all of Christendom. “As opposed to the Christian God?” he added.

  “Perhaps they are all faces of the same divine truth,” I offered.

  Rucker nodded thoughtfully.

  Bones was shaking his head with a woeful mien. “It doesn’t matter if you believe, Will, it only matters that someone says you don’t believe in Christ.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “My mother believed in Christ, she was a good Christian, and it didn’t matter.” Then Bones looked at me and frowned. “Of course, if they are as real as the Christian God, and they do listen to your prayers, then maybe they can protect you from the Church.”

  “That is what I am praying for,” Gaston said quite seriously.

  “I wonder which God I should beseech for that,” I muttered. I supposed I should not scoff: it was truly a problem.

  “Prayin’ ain’t gonna solve this,” Liam said, “lyin’ is.”

  I wished to dispute him, but he was somewhat correct. “All right, so I will go and speak to Father Pierre and tell him there has been a misunderstanding, that I was raving and drug-addled—a thing he already knows about that night—and that I beseeched the Virgin Mary and Henrietta misunderstood my words. And then we can hopefully—Gods willing,” I smiled, “soothe things with the other priests.”

  “I think that’s a good pla
n,” Liam said.

  “I am glad you thought of it.”

  He grinned. “I learned from you.”

  I suppressed the urge to wince.

  “Then what’ll ya do?” Bones asked Liam.

  Liam frowned. “I don’ know. Even if we can get ’er out o’ the church, I don’ know if I wish to live with ’er no more. Even if she weren’t lyin’ ’bout Will. She were always lyin’ ’bout somethin’. She sits down in the cookhouse with that Muri and they talk all damn day ‘bout people in the house.

  “An’ it’s na’ like I don’,” he continued bitterly. “Otter used to hate that ’bout me sometimes. But damn it, I dina’ engage in fantasies.”

  “What else has she alleged?” I asked.

  “She thinks Mistress Williams and Madame Doucette be ’avin’ an affair,” he said with an incredulous snort.

  I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. Gaston slapped his forehead and rubbed his eyes furiously before turning back to the railing with his shoulders shaking with amusement yet again.

  I sighed. “That is also true.”

  Once again I was confronted by uncomprehending stares until one by one they divined my meaning.

  “They both favor women and have been fortunate enough to find one another and fall in love,” I clarified.

  “Oh,” Rucker said with bemusement.

  Liam returned to cursing quietly.

  “How?” Bones asked with a truly perplexed frown.

  “How what?” I asked.

  “How… How do two women…” Bones entwined his fingers in a confusing manner as if to indicate something.

  “With their fingers,” I said.

  “I would see that.” He flushed a bright red and looked away.

  Liam chuckled. “That? That got yur interest? In all the days I’ve known ya, ya ’aven’t shown a bit of interest in wimen nor men, but two wimen an’ ya get wood?”

  “Well…” Bones said helplessly, and crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

  “It is a thing to contemplate,” Rucker said, and then he too flushed.

  Liam shook his head at them. “So the two o’ ya be daft fools after all. I thought ya were lucky men.” Then he shook his head again. “O’ course, it were me who were the fool. I shoulda’ known. I saw ’em together an’… I just ne’er thought o’ two women bein’ like matelots.”

  “The ladies were relying on it,” I said. “They wished for no one to know, but I would not see you hating your wife for a thing she did not lie about or create from conjecture.”

  Liam sighed sadly. “Aye, I see that, but damn it, Will, I still be damn angry with ’er. She just… She does na’ understand the Way o’ the Coast. An’ she said… Damn ’er.” He paused to curse. “She said that iffn’ I want ’er in me bed, I need ta seek a position elsewhere. I tol’ ’er this is na’ a position. I am na’ a servant.”

  “Nay, you are not,” I said quickly and emphatically. “You are a dear and trusted friend.”

  “Thank ya,” he said with a fierce nod. “That’s what I tol’ ’er. But she says ya be nobles an’ I just be a stupid Highlander. I tol’ ’er we be Brethren first, and that all those titles an’ the like belong to the Old World. But she went an’ got all confused agin when we thought we were gonna ’ave ta treat Gaston like a lord fer the priests.”

  He shook his head. “I canna’ ’ave me damn wife thinkin’ I be any man’s servant. I mean… I would be willin’ ta play the part iffn’ we do ’ave ta go ta France, but only ’cause it’s understood that we all be Brethren first.” He searched our faces.

  “Liam, you will always be my Brethren first,” Gaston said, “and having to treat everyone as servants and being bowed and scraped to is another reason I never wish to live in France.”

  “And I am no longer a lord,” I said with a grin.

  “Nay, ya just be a right bastard like the rest o’ us,” Liam replied. Then he sobered. “Ya see why I do na’ wish ta live with ’er. I do, but I don’. I like bein’ married, whether it be ta a man or a woman. I like bein’ with someone. I don’ like bein’ lonely. But I been lonely with ’er o’ late. I want my child, though; even iffn’ I don want ’er no more.”

  “If she no longer wishes to be your wife…” I began to say.

  “We are Catholic now,” Gaston said.

  I sighed, “Well, aye, divorce is not an option; however, women do leave their husbands. They leave their children behind when they do: they have no rights to them in any Christian court.”

  “Unless they can claim their husband consorts with heathen Devil worshippers,” Rucker said and quickly shrugged apologetically.

  I swore and sighed. “Well, let me see what I can do about that.”

  Liam sighed. “Bones be right. What then? She said she would na live ’ere.”

  “Well, will her objections not be satisfied if I can convince her and the priests she misunderstood?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I didna’ want ta say it, but she’s been sayin’ fer some time that she does na want our children raised in a sinful house. She takes issue with sodomy. I been na’ listenin’ ta ’er, but now she be right ’bout the ladies an’…” He sighed. “There’ll be no end o’ it now, even if ya can convince ’er yur na’ a heathen.”

  “Do you want your son raised in this house?” I asked. “Or whatever house we live in?”

  He nodded. “Aye, o’ course I do.”

  “Could she live at the Strikers?” Gaston asked. “Would she be willing to do that?”

  I was pleased with that solution; though, I was not sure how much Sarah would appreciate it.

  “Aye, but…” Liam looked at me. “Mistress Striker was na’ very fond o’ us when last we saw ’er.”

  “I think I have mended some of that,” I said. “At least we are speaking now. And, my sister is lonely in that house: it might be a possibility.”

  Liam was nodding. “Iffn’ it could be arranged, Henrietta would likely be willin’ ta live there. I’m na’ though. I’m needed ’ere.” He regarded Gaston and me speculatively. “I know I’ll calm some once she’s outta that church an’ this squall blows o’er, but… iffn’ I canna live with ’er no more, an’ the priests ain’t involved so I can keep my son, I might wish ta send ’er back to England. I got no money to do that, though.”

  “You will have as much as we can give you,” Gaston assured him. “I would say she could have a sizable fortune, but… I have been thinking that Will and I might not receive any more money than we have now; and so our current fortune will have to last us—all of us—for a long time.”

  They all nodded.

  “Aye, I been thinkin’ that, too,” Liam said.

  I sighed. I had not, but it was very true. “Is that why you keep suggesting we eat worthless horses and have fewer dogs?” I asked Liam.

  He smiled. “Aye, ya don’ think like a farmer, Will. In that, yur surely a noble.”

  “Sadly, aye,” I said. “Well, it is settled then: I shall lie to priests and your wife, and then we shall go and talk to my sister. If the Gods smile upon us, we should be able to solve this.”

  Liam shrugged. “The more I think on it, the more I think there be parts that canna’ be solved. I should go an’ find another man. They be less trouble.”

  “Non, non, non…” Gaston said. “Look at who I am married to.” He was grinning.

  Liam looked at me and began to laugh, as did Rucker and Bones.

  I laughed with them until the seriousness of our situation sobered me. “I am sorry, but I do seem to have an unerring talent for finding the steepest path through life.”

  Gaston kissed my cheek and whispered in French, “Always pulling uphill has made you able to pull more than most. I have long known I need never worry about you being able to carry me and everything we own if the need arises. And you prove it time and again. Even when you fall, you never falter.”

  Standing here with him and our friends—who cared so very much for me that they l
oved me no matter what I did—I felt my heart swell until it ached. Yet, I still teased him. “And you accuse me of always seeing the good. Why not call it by its proper name? I am damnably stubborn.”

  “Oui, but in you it is a good quality,” he said and embraced me.

  We parted company with the men and entered the relative safety of our room. Gaston handed me my baldric and belt. I did not chastise myself for running off without weapons as I strapped them on and checked my pistols.

  “I wish to bathe before we see the priests,” I said. “I do not know why—well, I do, it has nothing to do with the priests. I feel dirty. I care not if they see it. I feel it.”

  He picked up the ewer, it was empty. “If we go to fill this, we might as well speak to Samuel and Hannah. And if we go downstairs, we might as well see the Theodores.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “And if we have done all that, I might as well march to the church. I should simply attend to that first, I suppose. You should see to the Theodores.”

  “Non,” he said. “You will not enter that church alone.”

  I arched a brow and grinned at him. “What do you fear, that they will attack me, or I them?”

  He thought on that for a moment and smiled. “I think perhaps we should pack first. It will save trouble in case we have to leave town before the bodies are found.”

  “We should warn the household, then.”

  That thought brought the weight crashing down. I sat on the hammock with a heavy sigh as the air was pushed from my lungs and my knees refused to carry the load.

  Gaston was immediately at my side. He embraced me without question.

  “Becoming a man is hard. I might never do it well,” I said at last. “How are we to do this? Can it be done with the roads we choose? Or is the lesson to be learned that once one starts loading a cart, one should abandon the roads that climb ever upward, and begin to follow the well-trodden paths. If that is the lesson: I will fail. I cannot do that. I want you. I want my Gods. I want my life under my terms. If I surrender that ground, then what is the purpose of my life being… mine.

  “I can make that choice: the one to fight the entire world, but I seem to be chained—like a giant weight around my legs—to these other people, and thus I feel guilt that I am dragging them along with me to their doom. I cannot seem to think my way free of that.”