Wolves

by W. A. Hoffman

  He rubbed my shoulders. “We are not doomed yet. The Gods have smiled upon us before.”

  The irony of his words—and Rucker’s—concerning my Gods protecting me from the Church of a rival deity roiled about in my skull until I could not but smile. I might as well be storming Troy. Or was I the damn fool who carried off Helen? I was likely Paris, the man who wished for love and beauty above all else and doomed his nation in the taking of it.

  “Truth and love should induce more terror in men than war, famine, pestilence, and all the other horrors of the world combined,” I said.

  “They do,” Gaston whispered in my ear. “That is why it is rare to see them.” He pulled back to show me his smile.

  “Oui, I need you by my side in that church, whether they bring war or not: I just need you by my side.”

  He nodded and stood to pull me to my feet. I decided I should probably go and lie while dirty, that way I could wash it all away afterward.

  We found Theodore sitting next to Rachel’s cot in the back corner of the empty ward—far from the light. He seemed pleased to see us. I embraced him and held him until at last he sighed into my shoulder. When I released him I found his eyes lambent but grateful.

  Gaston knelt and examined Rachel. She was deeply asleep in the grip of the laudanum and oblivious to his touch. He listened to her heart, checked her eyes, and pinched and prodded her here and there to assess her skin tone and the relative sponginess of her flesh. I could see—even in the dim light, that she no longer appeared as ashen as she had that night. Her skin seemed to redden, hold a mark, and then recover as it should. Then my matelot looked to Theodore questioningly, with his hands upon the thin linen covering her gowned form. Theodore nodded, and Gaston exposed her. I had been afraid we would see blood and my matelot would have difficulty with it, but there was none. Her belly was still distended somewhat, but it now appeared to blend in with her overall plumpness.

  “Has there been bleeding—since?” Gaston asked quietly.

  “Hannah and Madame Doucette helped me bathe her,” Theodore said. “There has been no new blood since we washed the offal away.”

  “Good,” Gaston said. “She looks well enough, but I would like to examine her inside.”

  Theodore nodded.

  Gaston looked up at me, “I will need salve.”

  I nodded and went to find some.

  Father Joseph entered from the alley as I neared the surgery. He stopped at the sight of me. “You should not be here,” he said coldly. He appeared fearful.

  I was startled. “Why?”

  “This hospital is part of the church.”

  “It is not!” I scoffed. “And even if it were, what right do you have to tell me I cannot be on Church property?”

  “You are a heathen idolater,” he said.

  “You leave him be!” Theodore roared and began to storm toward us with a surprised Gaston in his wake.

  As surprised as I was by such a bold accusation, and my friend’s response, I kept my Horse calm and dove between them. “Wait! Wait! What is this accusation you make?” I demanded of Father Joseph. “How dare you say such a thing to me?”

  “We have learned of your heathenry,” Father Joseph said to me while keeping a wary eye on the enraged Theodore, who Gaston had thankfully gotten a good grip on.

  “Henrietta has told them lies about you!” Theodore growled.

  I glared at Father Joseph. “What has she said?”

  “That you pray to pagan gods and make sacrifices to them, and that you engaged in some dark rite with Madame Theodore’s child.”

  I lost my grip on the reins and slapped him. “Do not ever…”

  “How dare you!” Theodore roared and struggled with Gaston.

  My matelot shook him until he stopped. Then he turned on the cringing priest. “Father Joseph, you have been learning medicine from me these last months. You seem like an intelligent man. I am disappointed to hear you speaking such gibberish. We performed surgery upon Madame Theodore because her child was dead and putrefying and her body refused to labor. Only a superstitious fool would call that a dark rite.”

  His words seemed to have the correct effect upon the young priest, and they gave me time to gather myself and recall what I was about. When I spoke, my Man had a firm grip on the reins and I spoke with the voice of my… Wolf.

  “Oui,” I said. “It was no dark rite, but an act of mercy so that Father Pierre could bury the child properly and Madame Theodore might live. When it was over I prayed to the Virgin who watches over all women that Madame Theodore should survive. That Henrietta would claim I practiced heathenry because of such a thing is… insulting, and appalling, if not a symptom of madness.”

  “Where is the damn lying woman?” I demanded of Theodore.

  My bluster had robbed some of the wind from his sails. “I believe she is hiding in the church.”

  “Hiding?” I scoffed and turned on the priest. “Why would the stupid woman be hiding unless she knew her lies would bring down my wrath? Well, she is correct in that. I will not have the woman in this house again. You can keep her and feed her fat arse. Now go and fetch Father Pierre. I would speak with him.”

  Father Joseph scurried out the door with wide eyes.

  “Henrietta said…” Theodore began to say in English.

  “We know,” I said quietly in the same. “Liam has told me everything he knew this morning, and Striker warned us last night.”

  Theodore sighed with relief.

  I grasped his shoulders and compelled him to meet my gaze. “You must calm yourself, my friend,” I said softly.

  He sighed again and sat on the nearest cot.

  I turned to Gaston and found him grinning. “What?” I asked with dismay.

  “Your Man is as scary as my Horse.”

  I shook my head and chuckled at my revelation. “Non, I have just come to believe that was my Wolf.”

  “Ah,” he said with a thoughtful nod. “That explains much.”

  “Oui, as a lord, you will need to nurture yours. He has fangs, though; your words here were very good—especially their delivery.”

  He chuckled. “I see now.”

  “Is this a game?” Theodore said with a touch of pique.

  “Oui,” I assured him, “one upon which my life very likely depends.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Now I see.” He dropped his voice and returned to English with a nervous glance at the alley doors. “What did she see that night, Will?”

  “Me praying as I told him—to a virgin Goddess very similar to the Virgin Mary in many ways.”

  “Oh, Lord,” he said with a sigh. “I can only pray you have a chance of discrediting her.”

  “I would advise you to choose who you pray to with great care,” I teased.

  He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I have been so worried, and afraid.”

  I squatted so that our eyes were of a level. “I see that, my friend. You need to rest. Let us have Gaston finish examining your wife. Then I will see about speaking with Father Pierre. Once that is complete, Gaston should be able to stay with Rachel for a time while you sleep.”

  Gaston nodded and clapped Theodore’s shoulder before going to the surgery.

  Theodore nodded and then frowned. “But Will, you asked him to send Father Pierre.”

  “Aye, but I am sure he went directly to Father Mark.” I frowned as I thought over all that had been said. “This building is not owned by the Church, is it?”

  “Nay,” he said assuredly. “Madame Doucette allowed me to examine Doucette’s papers when we drew up the bill of sale for the plantation. I saw nothing to indicate the Church holds any lien on this land. It is clearly in Doucette’s name.” He frowned anew. “However, I have not seen his will.”

  I had not thought of that, either. Yvette could not inherit from him, and as he had no children, it was very likely he named the Church. I swore quietly. “That is wonderful; well, we should be happy I have not killed him yet.”
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br />   “Will, do not speak like that,” he said with much more of his usual demeanor. “And, it is possible he named Gaston.”

  “Named me what?” Gaston asked. He had returned with a crock of salve. We went to Rachel’s bedside.

  “His heir,” Theodore said. “I would imagine it is either you or the Church.”

  Gaston frowned as he pulled aside the bed linen he had hastily thrown over Rachel’s nakedness before pursuing Theodore. “We should ask Yvette. Please help me slide her down.”

  Theodore went to the other side of the bed and they slid Rachel’s unresisting form to the foot of the cot. Then Gaston knelt there, applied the salve, and began a careful examination.

  I was reviewing the list of people I needed to speak with and the questions I must ask them. At the rate it was growing, we would be at this all day.

  “I will go and speak to Sam and possibly Yvette while you are thus engaged,” I said.

  Gaston and Theodore nodded, and I left them.

  I happened to cross paths with Yvette first. She was delighted by my approach, and rushed to embrace me. “Monsieur Rucker said you had returned.” She quickly sobered. “How are you?”

  “Well enough. We needed some time to recover.”

  “Did Gaston do what Dominic suggested?” she asked with a grimace.

  “Non, it was a thing that drove him to the brink of madness and so I performed the surgery.”

  “Oh, Will, I am sorry.” She patted my face sympathetically. “And now Henrietta has gone and riled up the priests.”

  “Oui. She misunderstood my praying to the Virgin in the aftermath.”

  “You prayed to the Blessed Virgin?” she asked with incredulity.

  I sighed. “Non, I prayed to the Goddess Diana; who is also a virgin and protector of women. But we are telling the priests and the cow Henrietta that it was the other.”

  “Good,” she said. “That sounds more like you. I was worried there for a moment.”

  I laughed until I remembered what I must ask her. “I have encountered one priest already, the young one who assists Gaston. He made the remarkable claim that this was Church property.”

  Her eyes narrowed and anger tightened her mouth. “It is not. They tried to claim it after we came to understand Dominic would never recover. I implored the captains to help me keep it, and Pierrot talked to the fathers.”

  “Claim it how? Is it the Church’s upon his death?”

  She nodded and sighed. “I was to be given use of the plantation until I died. Father Pierre wished to expand the rectory into the house and enlarge the hospital. The plantation was to be managed for me by the parish. When your people arrived, I convinced the fathers that I would be better off in France with the money from the sale of the property and the other money Dominic would leave for me. That is how I was able to sell it—with Father Pierre witnessing Doucette’s signature. If it had been arable land, I doubt Father Pierre would have been allowed to allow Dominic to sell it.”

  “I did not know,” I said. It made great sense, however; and was very much in keeping with common practice in dealing with the Church.

  She shrugged. “I did not feel the need to discuss it, since—as you said—the circumstances of your life might change everything anyway.”

  I smiled. “No matter what happens with this or any other matter, stay with Agnes, she has our money.”

  She awarded me an angelic smile and teased, “I am not a stupid woman.”

  “Gods help us,” I sighed and grinned.

  “What do you feel will happen with this matter?” she asked with a sober mien.

  I told her of our plan to discredit Henrietta, and possibly have her move to Sarah’s.

  She nodded. “Well, if it goes poorly, Agnes and I have used this changing about of rooms to pack everything we might need to take if we must leave in the night.”

  I embraced her gratefully. “Thank you, that is one less worry—that you two should be unprepared and surprised by what might occur.”

  “Do your best. I have heard from everyone how well you lie.”

  I grimaced and went in search of Sam. I found him outside the cookhouse plucking chickens. He jumped to his feet at the sight of me and cast a nervous glance over his shoulder into the cookhouse before motioning for me to follow him. I slipped around the building, being careful to stay out of sight of the doorway, and followed him past the stable and out of the yard. Once we were behind the next house he stopped and regarded me with concern and twisting hands.

  “Master Will, I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “I couldn’t talk any sense into the women. Mistress Henrietta doesn’t listen to me anyway; but Muri, she’s my woman, she should at least listen, but she’s stubborn. You’ve always been good to me, and I know you don’t do bad juju. And Hannah told me what happened with the baby. That is bad juju, but good medicine. Hannah says that Mistress Rachel is alive because you did such a thing. And she says that whatever God you pray to gives you more juju than the One God of the Fathers.”

  I was nearly stunned speechless. I found my tongue to ask, “Did Hannah hear me praying?”

  He nodded. “She says she won’t tell anyone. Then she argued with Muri, but she said nothing about that and swore me to say nothing. I’m not talking to Muri about it. We had a fight.”

  It seemed I was destined to ruin other’s relationships. “I am sorry you had to fight over me—or rather, something I did.”

  He shook his head. “Sometimes things happen for a reason. It will be fine.”

  I was still struggling to make sense of the rest of what he said. “What is juju?”

  “How do you say it, ah, aye, juju is what white people call witchcraft. There is another word.”

  “Magic?”

  “Aye, aye, that is it. All peoples have juju, but not everyone knows how to use it. Mistress Henrietta told Muri the bad juju men of your people are called witches and devil worshippers. They talk all the time, even though Mistress Henrietta hardly knows French, and Muri hardly knows English. They talk about things that the French and English have no words for—black things—my people’s things. Yet, still they talk and confuse each other.” He shook his head with frustration.

  “Muri’s people are afraid of juju. Sometimes there is bad death—like Mistress Rachel’s baby. That was bad juju. Touching a body that died wrong brings the bad juju on you. The only man or woman who can touch the dead that died wrong are holy men who know how to not let the juju stick to them. Hannah’s people are different than Muri’s people, or mine. And Hannah’s father was a holy man. She knows more about juju than Muri, so she is not afraid. She says she was worried that night because she felt the baby’s bad juju. Then she saw that you are a holy man and she knew everything would be fine.”

  Never having been called a holy man before—much less one who knew how to control juju—I initially wished to argue with Hannah’s assessment of me. But then I realized there was nothing to be gained in that; and perhaps in some way I was akin to their holy men and it was only our having disparate religions and languages that made it seem a thing of myth and fantasy. Maybe their holy men were physicians. Maybe the old Gods did grant their followers this juju.

  “I think there is much I would like to discuss with Hannah, and you, about this matter,” I said. “If I am a holy man like she says, then I have much to learn. I would understand more about your religion.”

  He smiled, but then he sighed. “We blacks do not speak of it with you white men. A slave gets beat for that. But you are different. Hannah knows more than me. She likes you. She might speak to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Samuel, you are right to hide it and be careful about who you speak to. There are many white men who so fear anything different they will kill their own kind. We have fought wars over religion—the same religion. In this matter, Mistress Henrietta told the priests I was a bad juju witch. If I cannot convince them I am not, they will t
ry to have other men kill me. I do not intend to let them. But if they do come for me, we might have to run away again to another place. We are hoping… my juju is stronger than the priests’. I promise you, though, that while I live, no man I know—slave or free—will be beaten for believing a different thing if I can prevent it.”

  “You are a good man, Master Will,” he said sincerely though I could see he had many questions.

  “As are you, Samuel. I hope to be able to explain more to you. I do not know what the others have told you of why we are here and what our future might hold, but you should be told.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Master Will. I would like to know. I should go back now. Muri will wonder where I am.”

  “Aye, go, and thank you again.”

  I watched him slip back into the yard with wonder in my heart. I did not know what to think of his talk of juju. I did know I could no longer countenance Hannah and him remaining in slavery; and thus ignored as servants when they could be far more vital members of our household if they were allowed to be themselves. They had already served us well many times over. It was time they were rewarded and allowed to share in the same rights everyone else did.

  I doubted Theodore was in a state of mind to argue with me over the matter, and if necessary, I would purchase them from him and free them myself.

  If aspects of this religion of hers did not forbid it, Hannah might make a fine assistant for the hospital; and if Samuel wished, he might make a fine addition to the men capable of defending the house. They should also learn to read and write.

  Happy with these thoughts of being able to do good by someone, I was quite dismayed to find unfinished business in the hospital. Father Pierre—appearing dour, Father Mark—appearing obstinate, and two of their fellows—who appeared quite anxious, stood in the ward confronting Gaston and Theodore. Displeased to have to do so, I summoned my Wolf. I was pleased He seemed to be a far more obedient creature than my Horse; and I was confused as to why I always seemed to discover such things about myself when I did not have the time to reflect upon them.