The Wait Begins

When the veterinarian came, he reported to Captain Smith that Alexander would heal if given time. The battle with Miltiades had been brutal, but miraculously, none of the wounds were fatal or crippling, yet with how the Northern caracal felt, they might as well have been.

After the veterinarian had departed, Captain Smith sat opposite of Alexander and Roxana on the chesterfield, even placing a gentle hand upon the former. "It will be alright..." He said quietly. "It will be alright, Alexander... I'm here."

Captain Smith was forty-five-years-old and six feet and four inches in height. A man of Algonquin, Cayuga, German and Irish heritage, he had long, black, Zeus-like hair and green eyes. He was a muscular man, a Herakles some would say, who had three moles to the side of his left eye, as well as two scars on the left side of his face, the most notable of which went through his left eyebrow. His moustache was a handlebar moustache, styled like Wyatt Earp's, and his beard was a long goatee. His attire was his uniform from the Second Boer War which he had turned into everyday wear, in contrast to his surviving comrades who had put theirs on display in their homes. The uniform consisted of a khaki-coloured coat and pair of trousers, with a white shirt, black boots, and a Stetson hat, which was currently on the hat rack in the entrance hall.

The Second Boer War had been the bloodiest two years, seven months and twenty days of Captain Smith's life. It had been during that war that he had found Darius caught in a trap. By freeing him, the Captain, at that point a lieutenant, had found a lifelong friend who had followed him from then on. Darius had now followed Captain Smith's father, from whom his Algonquin and German heritage came, his friend Mark Twain, and wife Asha, Hippolyta's mother who was of Swahili descent and Captain Smith's sister and brother-in-law, Alan's parents, had followed Darius. His mother would pass on soon and despite what the veterinarian had said, the Captain had a sinking feeling that he might lose two more individuals in his life.

Gently stroking Alexander's fur, Captain Smith watched as his fiancée Ms. Lombard entered the parlour. She was seventeen years his junior, half-Cree and half-Swiss, slender, brown-eyed, had long black hair and was five feet and nine inches in height. She typically wore a white dress with shoes of the same colour. As she sat next to down to the right of Roxana, Ms. Lombard asked: "How is he, Kull?"

"The veterinarian said he will live, but I fear he will not, Igraine... Darius did not..."

"Darius was sixteen-years-old, Kull. He was an old caracal. Alexander is young though and will recover more easily than an older cat would."

"Would that we could be certain of that."

"I remember my uncle's caracal Philip. Awful and mean-tempered, but seeing him when he was ill or injured was the saddest thing." Ms. Lombard gently scratched Alexander's chin, taking a moment, smiling as the Northern caracal looked at her. "Those had been the only times Philip would ever allow anyone that wasn't my uncle to pet him."

"Darius had a better temperament, Alexander does too." Commented Captain Smith, watching as Roxana sniffed Ms. Lombard's wrist. "Even with how Herr von Fell treated her, Roxana has never been so bad... Even my student Philip has a better personality than your uncle's caracal did... Alexander's father Amen-Ra and mother Olympias were both better tempered that Philip was... I wonder what sort of life that animal had lived before coming into your uncle's ownership or if he truly was just born with such a temperament. I know different animals have different personalities, but I sincerely hope it was just treatment and not his natural personality."

Darius, Philip, the names of these two caracals caught Alexander's attention and so he listened. Often, he heard Darius spoken of and wanted to know of his and Roxana's predecessor, but he also wished to know of Philip, Ms. Lombard's uncle's caracal, whom he did not often hear spoken of.

Alas, knowing more of those two would have to wait. Cnut and his mate the rough collie Emma entered the parlour and both made their way to the chesterfield, then proceeded to lick Alexander. It was something that the caracal had grown used to. Emma was very affectionate, but Cnut was less so, being the more serious counterpart of his mate. Alexander had heard Ms. Watson, a teacher recently returned to the estate, speak of Darius and say that Darius had been more serious than Cnut was.

Cnut's father had been a half-blind Vancouver Island wolf who had been named Sweyn and his mother had been an Alaskan malamute named Sigrid. As the offspring of such a union, he was thirty-inches tall at the shoulder, five feet long and weighed ninety-two pounds. He was a slender canine with grey and white fur, amber eyes and the ever-present black nose that most canines had. He was five years old and had been living at Quebec Castle since he had been a pup, meeting Darius when he had been growing old. Darius had been less than impressed with the pup's presence and would bat at him with a swift paw when he found himself being annoyed by Cnut. The wolfdog had been quick to learn and came to be a friend of Darius, whom Cnut missed as much as everyone else did.

As a rough collie, Emma was a sable-coloured individual and four inches smaller at the shoulder than Cnut was. Like Cnut, Emma was five years old and also like Cnut, she had found a swift paw from Darius awaiting if she had annoyed him during her puppyhood. She had always been affectionate, even to the very serious Darius, and she was loved by the children. She and Cnut had produced offspring with one of their brood being the pet of Timothy Covington and his wife Colette, both former students of Captain Smith.

Lifting his head, Alexander sniffed Cnut and Emma as they licked him. This was perfectly normal behaviour and Alexander welcomed the kisses the canines were giving him. Roxana however was more than a little worried, growling at the two.

"They don't mean any harm, Roxana." Assured Ms. Lombard, placing a hand upon Roxana and gently stroking the Asiatic caracal's fur.

Roxana turned her head and sniffed Ms. Lombard's hand, before relaxing. Captain Smith smiled and commented: "Truly she has grown more comfortable with people touching her. It took a month before she allowed me to so much as pet her... Took Gemma a week."

"In all fairness, Kull, you and Herr von Fell both have handlebar moustaches. She might have seen a little bit of a resemblance and was nervous."

"That is absurd!" exclaimed Captain Smith. "Mine is like Wyatt Earp's, Herr von Fell looks as if he stole Kaiser Wilhelm's!"

"Just a thought, dear."

Kaiser Wilhelm? Alexander had heard that name before. He did not know who Kaiser Wilhelm was, only some tyrant who now ruled Germany and whose troops defeated the Canadian soldiers at St Eloi Craters, where Alan's father died. If Herr von Fell had truly stolen Kaiser Wilhelm's moustache then how did he look now?

As Cnut and Emma both lay down near the door to Captain Smith's bedroom, Alexander lowered his head. His eyes remaining open, he stared at the parlour's fire place. For what reason? Simply because it was in the direction his head was facing, no other reason than that.

A knocking at the door, caused Captain Smith and there did he see his mother Gudrun, a frail woman of seventy-four years from whom Captain Smith's Cayuga and Irish heritage came. Seeing her, Captain Smith said: "You should be in bed, mother."

"I will not be spending my final days abed, Kull." Stated Nana Smith. "I hear our Alexander has been wounded by Miltiades just as our Darius was... That blasted lynx. My father, your grandfather, said the Lynx was not the Keeper of Secrets, but the reincarnation of bloodthirsty men!"

"I don't recall reincarnation ever being a Cayuga belief, mother..." commented Captain Smith, puzzled by this.

"Regardless, that is what my father your grandfather said." Nana Smith entered the parlour and approached the chesterfield. With more strength than her frail appearance would have suggested, she picked up the wounded Alexander and carried him to her rocking chair by the fireplace. The Northern caracal stared up at her, his eyes half-open as she said: "You are Alexander. 'Defender of Man' is what your name means, that is what you are and what you will be as long as you live and live you shall, my Alexander." Taking a seat in the rocking chair, she continued, saying: "You are named after Alexandros III of Macedon, whom all the world knows as 'Alexander the Great'. He was King of Macedon, Shah of Persia, Pharaoh of Egypt and Lord of Asia, as well as a god. Miltiades, for whom your enemy is named, was only a man, and men do not slay gods."

Captain Smith could only bring a hand to his face, something that Ms. Lombard watched with amusement. There had been cases of individuals who had been considered deities who would qualify as "gods slain by men." The Persian monarch Xerxes I had held the title of Pharaoh of Egypt, he was considered a god by the Egyptians and yet he had not died a death by natural causes as his father Darius the Great, namesake of the caracal Darius, had. Xerxes had been slain by the commander of his bodyguard. And in the Iliad, the Achaean hero Diomedes had wounded the Olympians Venus and Mars, meaning that if mortal man could wound a god, then surely in some tales from some cultures, there were cases where mortal man could slay a god.

"Gudrun, please be careful with him." Ms. Lombard said, looking to her future mother-in-law with concern as she held the wounded Alexander. She knew that the caracal was a gentle as honey to those who resided at Quebec Castle and to others, but the fact remained that Alexander was wounded and Ms. Lombard worried for him accidentally being hurt.

"Igraine, I will hurt him not." Replied Nana Smith, not even looking at her future daughter-in-law, but keeping her eyes on Alexander, before saying: "Kull, Alexander will be with me in my room, not here in the parlour. I know you wanted him in the room adjacent to your own bedchamber, but I would prefer Alexander be with me."

"And why would that be, mother?" Captain Smith inquired.

"So that when I pass, I will know that my life has been traded for his and I will be able to see him recover before my eyes close for the last time." Nana Smith answered.

"The veterinarian said—"

"I do not care what that fool said, Kull. You and I both know he hasn't the most impressive track record. He may not be Oshawa's best, but he is the only veterinarian we have and it is because he is not the best that I have no interest in what he said! Alexander will live because when the Angel of Death comes, I will ask that he take me alone and not Alexander."

"I had seen many expire during the Second Boer War and never once say the Angel of Death visit them..." commented Captain Smith, a melancholy look falling across his front as he began to stroke his beard. "Not even when Captain Thorsen died... Or when father..."

"Yet you did see something, Kull." Stated Nana Smith. "What were they again that you saw during the war?"

Captain Smith took a breath before answering. "Alien pinioned animals." Said he. "Such as fighters have reported encounters with across the history of battles. Some of the men in my company had fought in the Mahdist War and against the North-West Rebellion and spoke of encounters with these things... These demons."

"And yet you doubt the possibility of me seeing the Angel of Death when I pass."

"I saw those things therefore I am inclined to believe in them, mother. I have no reason to believe the Angel of Death can be seen by anyone, let alone those they come to take away to the afterlife."

To Alexander this was a most fascinating conversation. He was learning so much today. Would he see the Angel of Death come for Nana Smith? Perhaps he could defend her, defeat the Angel of Death! He had heard Ms. Ayres, one of the teachers, read of Herakles who had wrestled with and defeated Thanatos, the God of Death. Could he not chase the Angel of Death away then? If Death could be wrestled and defeated, then surely, they could be chased off. And what of these things, these alien pinioned animals, these demons that Captain Smith spoke of? If there were here in Canada, could it be possible that they could appear here at Quebec Castle? Or did they only appear where there was war? How long had it been since the North-West Rebellion? Was the Great War being fought here in Canada or overseas? Alas, he did not know and would not learn more at the moment.

Nana Smith carried the wounded caracal from the parlour and to her own bedchamber, Roxana following after, wanting to be as close to Alexander as possible. She was not going to leave her wounded mate out of her sight, even if he was in the safe hands of a member of their master's family. Alexander needed her company.