Legion

Natchez, Mississippi Territory

Wednesday, February 3, 1813

Gregor’s

“It will be daybreak soon, beloved,” I tell my Seer.

“I know,” Gregor sighs. But he sits up, having spent the balance of the night lying on his back atop the softly disturbed soil next to the fresh grave, gazing at the heavens. He knows that I will alert him if his family needs him, but they have slept peacefully up in their house on the tall bluff looming a few yards away.

He has enjoyed the solitude, listening to the mighty river streaming nearby, allowing his mind to drift, letting himself enjoy a few hours of inactivity and peace. It reminds him of long years in the past, years of loneliness and lethargy, so different from the busy life he has built for himself here in Natchez.

He knows his night of respite must end soon.

He gazes again upon the wooden headstone erected by the youngsters to commemorate the life of the lad who is buried here. The sky has barely begun to lighten, but he is able to see the message engraved there. “Marcus, our friend,” Gregor whispers, running his fingers across the carved letters.

In another minute, he stands up, shaking dirt out of his hair, then leans over to try to brush some of the dirt away from his clothing. He huffs lightly with amusement. “Nadine won’t be pleased with the condition of my clothing when she finds it in the wash,” he murmurs.

“She’s seen worse,” I point out to him, relieved that the calm night of reflection has restored both his energy and his humor.

“Pfsh. True.” He remembers the most recent time his clothing was utterly filthy, from assisting in the digging of a well at Homochitto plantation.

He looks again at the rough structure nearby, the fort that the children have built, but still does not enter. He has not specifically been asked to do so, and will wait until such time as an invitation is issued. He assumes this will occur at some point.

He inhales deeply of the humid air wafting off the river, then says, “I guess it’s time to get this show on the road.” Moving to the base of the steep hill which leads up to his house, he begins climbing it with ease, remembering that it was only a few days ago when Marcus climbed this hill, with great difficulty and assisted by his friends. Marcus died with the warm memory of that day bringing him solace and contentment.

When Gregor reaches the house, all is still dark and silent within. But as he quietly opens the back door leading into the kitchen, he is greeted by the sound of the softly padding feet of his huge dog.

Tiger stands next to the door, ready to greet his master, having heard him approaching in the night. He does not bark, there is no alarm required. He knows it’s just Gregor.

Gregor pats his head, then drops to his knees on the kitchen floor to actually wrap his arms around the animal. “Good boy,” he praises the Newfoundland, patting his sides, “you have been such a good friend to us all, especially these last few days.”

Tiger pants and wags, then quietly follows behind as Gregor stands and moves into the small room off the kitchen, where the bathtub is kept, along with the laundry tub and hamper. He strips off his outer garments which are soiled after a night of lying in the dirt, places them in the hamper, then pulls on a fresh shirt and breeches which are in a pile nearby. He does not know exactly what the purpose of this pile is, but knows that it must be part of Nadine’s laundry method, perhaps items she intends to mend or iron or fold. He hates to disrupt her process, but he does not wish to dash half naked through the house and risk being seen by his houseguest Zadoc.

When he leaves the laundry room, he steps over to the other small room near the kitchen, and peers within. The narrow bed is empty, the mattress stripped of bedding, the chamber vacant and seeming almost to echo without the presence of Marcus. The boy was only here for a few weeks, but he made a great impact on the family, and he will be missed.

Tiger follows Gregor back to his study, where Gregor sets down his shoes which he is carrying, then pats the dog again. He leads Tiger to the large cushion which serves as a dog bed, and tells him, “Stay.” When the dog lays down, Gregor praises him. “Good boy. See you a little later.” Tiger watches as Gregor leaves the study, then lays his head down on his paws, a posture which I often adopt while in my wolf form, as I am now.

My beloved creeps silently up the stairs, not disturbing either Zadoc or the sleeping baby, and quietly enters the bedroom where his wife is sleeping. He tries not to disturb her as he removes his garments and slips into bed next to her, but she is roused by his presence.

“Mmm,” Rosy murmurs sleepily, rolling towards him and snuggling into his side. He puts an arm around her, but does not try to converse, hoping that she’ll fall back to sleep. There is still an hour or so before sunrise, she can still rest for a while. The whole family has had a very tiring few days.

He is pleased when he hears her breathing become slow and deep, as she rests against him. He lies still and contemplates his plans for the day, waiting for the sun and the household to rise.