Page 117 of The Knucker King

Avice’s heart broke for them, and she blinked back her own stinging tears. She paused her treatment and gave the sisters the moment they needed. Their poor family, two children marked and on death’s door within weeks of one another.

It was not fair; it was not right.

She brushed her bloody fingers over her pendant, imagining Trewoofe’s calming touch to soothe her racing heart. She had hoped that the end of Winter would bring a stop to this Faerie-touched madness, but it seemed it had only made it worse.

She waited until the women’s keening ebbed into sniffles, before offering them a soft smile and continuing her care. After cleaning the area, Avice packed the sewn wound with soft absorbent moss, securing it in place with linen strips.

“Let us get you freshened up,” the midwife instructed. “Then back into bed with a warm cup of tea. You must start your lying in.”

Working together, Avice and Matilda washed and changed Emma into a fresh chemise and stockings. They rolled fresh blankets on the pallet. Then put her back to bed on a roll of absorbent lambskin. Avice made sure she drank her cup of chamomile and willow bark tea to aid with any pains and to help sooth her.

Once she had finished her steaming beverage, Emma had promptly fallen asleep – the difficult and painful day finally catching up with her.

Before she made her way home, Avice sat with Matilda, having a simple afternoon meal of small pies stuffed with salted pork and herbal tea.

“Thank you,” Matilda said, sipping at her cup. “For everything you have done for us.”

The midwife chomped at a pie, not realising how hungry she was until the flaky pastry met her tongue. She let out a contented murmur. The sweet and savoury melted on her tastebuds before she gulped it down.

“It is the least I can do. I am just sorry you did not have a happy ending with your babies,” Avice replied, washing down her mouthful with a gulp of tea. The willow bark helped take the edge off her pounding headache, reducing the throbbing lump to a dull ache. “I am doing my rounds tomorrow. You two, Goodwife Joan, and Mister Benjamin.”

Matilda nodded. “Visit Joan first.”

Avice opened her mouth to protest, but the woman gestured for her to stop.

“Em and I have each other – thanks to you – and I am recovering well enough. As for Goodwife Joan, well, I know Goodwife Catherine managed to visit her once or twice before the blizzard. Since then, she has been stuck with…” Her lip curled. “…Mister Robert.”

Avice could see her point. Her stomach turned at the thought of Joan being stuck with her odious husband while lying in during a snowstorm. In fact, she could not imagine of anything worse.

She dipped her head in agreement. “Goodwife Joan first then.” Her priority in treatment, after Trewoofe, would always be the women and children of Lamorna. “Now, tell me, have you heard anything of Mister Benjamin, does he still live?”

The woman nodded. “He does, but how I found that out was the strangest thing.”

“Oh?” the midwife said, arching an eyebrow.

Matilda placed her cup on the table and leaned in closer, a smirk on her lips. Avice surmised she was eager to share the gossip with someone, and she would do.

“My husband went to give thanks at the church earlier this morning for the end of Winter,” she began.

Avice supressed a snort as she sipped her tea. Catherine’s husband, William, seemed to be a decent man, but all roads led to the Cross God for him. She imagined he would faint if he discovered the real cause for Spring to be here.

“When he got there, the rectory had been destroyed, smashed to pieces.” Matilda tossed her hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. “He said there were grey pebbles everywhere!”

“Were any other buildings damaged?” Avice asked innocently.

“That is the strangest thing, no!” she exclaimed. “Only the rectory.” She spread her arms, knocking over her half-full cup, ignoring the spill. “Will told me the whole place smelt of holy oils, and it had stained the cobblestones.”

Avice set down her cup and took another chomp of a pork pie. She chewed slowly, supressing a grin. The Nightly Neighbours had held their end of the bargain, destroying the oil that had carried the iron to the Underneath. Trewoofe and his Faeries would be safe, at least for the time being.

She swallowed her bite. “And Father Peter? I hope he is well?” she enquired with false sweetness.

“Will saw him at the church. He is well, but furious.”

Avice surpassed her chuckle with a cough. “So… Mister Benjamin?”

Matilda wrinkled her brow, as though she had forgotten what they had originally been talking about. “Oh, yes!” she giggled. “As it turns out, Mister George had come to give thanks that morning too. Not just for the end of the storm, but to God giving him the clarity of mind to move Mister Benjamin to his home before the storm worsened.”

“So, to clarify, Mister Benjamin is staying in his cousin’s home?” Avice clarified.