Page 2 of The Knucker King

“Understood, Midwife Avice. Now, please inform the father and take the… child away.”

“My baby?” Joan murmured. “Where is my baby?”

Catherine’s jaw clenched as she supported her sister. “She’s gone my love. Gone. With our Father in heaven. Robert and the midwife will take care of it for us. But you are still here, so you are my concern now.” She nodded at Avice before tugging her sister over towards the pallet bed.

“Where is Robert?” Joan whimpered. “Someone must tell him.”

“I will,” Avice conceded.

She turned from the sisters and inhaled deeply. Awkwardly shifting the baby girl from one arm to another, she pulled on her cloak, tucking the swaddled infant within. Between her plump body and the thick blanket, she hoped the infant would stay warm. She braced herself before she cracked open the wooden door. It creaked loudly, making the baby in her arms jerk in surprise, the first time she had reacted to an external stimulus.

Avice stepped outside and the chilly air bit at her round cheeks. The wind buffeted her face, blowing strands of black hair loose from the neat bun she wore at the nape of her neck. She squinted in the morning light as the sun fractured through the grey clouds above.

“Bramble?” she called softly into the garden. The frost-covered ground was hard beneath her leather boots, sending a jolt of cold up her stocking-clad legs.

There was a rustle behind a laurel bush, the evergreen leaves surviving the brutal Winter into what should now be Spring. Out stepped her Grim, a black hound of shadow. He stretched; a puff of steam wafted from his mouth as he padded over to Avice.

The top of his shaggy head reached the midwife’s hip. He lowered his muzzle and sniffed at the bottom hem of her dress, where some birthing blood had dried.

His gaze met hers. The blood is not yours, Bramble confirmed.

Avice gave her Grim a gentle smile. His familiar-ship had been transferred from her Great Aunt Agnes to her, after the elderly woman had died. The bond between them was sealed with a drop of her blood on his large, wet nose. His glowing, red eyes were soft as he stared up at his mistress, adoration dancing through his irises.

“Do not worry yourself. It is from the birth,” Avice reassured.

I dislike it when we are apart for so long. The last church bell pealed seven times. You have been in that dwelling all night, Bramble lectured. He shifted his snout to snuff at the bundle in her arms. Why is this pup not with its dam?

Avice’s lips tugged down. “She will not survive long.” She considered her options. Her herbs and medicines would not work. The cost of her other option was exceptionally high – an image of her Aunt Agnes on the funeral pyre flashed across her mind – especially as it may not be enough to save the child. “The Goodwives inside have asked me to let Robert Shepherd know. I want to see what we can do with the baby. I hope he will allow me to take her to the well.”

Bramble cocked his head and whimpered. You know the villagers of Lamorna no longer send offerings to the Good Neighbours. They are infatuated with their Cross God. Why would they take her?

“I want to ask the King of the Well for help. You know we have been friendly over the years. I hope he will convince the Good Neighbours to take her – at least, there, she will have a chance.” Avice looked down at the pale, quiet, baby in her arms. Her eyes had not opened and her skin grew colder with each passing moment. “It is alright, little one. We will find your father. Then I hope he will let me take you somewhere where you will feel no more pain.” She turned to her Grim. “Can you find him?”

Bramble turned his shaggy head to the wind. His nose twitched as he tracked the location of the man. I believe Robert Shepherd is in his lower field, checking on his ewes that are in-lamb.

Avice sighed. The lower fields were not close, and the morning was cold. The infant could die before she reached her father. Avice stuck out her chin and nodded at her familiar.

“Lead the way please, Bramble.”

The freezing breeze tousled the hound’s fur. His wiry hair protected him from the worst of the chill. Avice, however, felt every bite of the frigid air. Beneath her sleeves and stockings, her arms and legs prickled. The Grim, lustrous black in the grey morning, scented at the air a final time before pointing his snout in the direction they were to walk.

This way, Avice. I will also attend this meeting with the father. He will be distressed by his daughter’s condition, and I will not have him reacting poorly to your presence, Bramble said, before stepping towards the fields.

2

Chapter 2

Avice

Avice followed her Grim with the newborn clutched to her chest. She picked her way carefully through the frosty fields until she finally spotted a brown-coated man amongst the ewes. Her breath puffed through the air, and she trembled beneath her layers of woollen and linen clothes. Avice chanced a peek at the baby in her arms. She nodded with satisfaction that the girl’s chest still softly rose and fell. The birthing blood had dried on her pale, soft skin and the external viscera still glistened with vitality.

Her heart hammered in her chest. The thought of delivering the unfortunate news to Robert Shepherd – a man much older than his wife – sent a skitter of terror up Avice’s spine. The midwife had heard rumours amongst the villagers of Lamorna of how rough and domineering he could be but was thankful she had not experienced it herself.

Bramble whined softly by her side, sensing her apprehension. I will stay unseen. However, if he becomes a threat to you, the shepherd will see me, he reassured.

Avice swallowed her nerves, emboldened by his support. She smiled gratefully down at her familiar. She wished she could grip his fur for reassurance, but her hands were occupied holding the infant to her chest.

“Thank you, Bramble. Have I told you recently how glad I am you decided to stay after Aunt Agnes passed away?” she asked, continuing her path towards the shepherd.