Page 12 of The Knucker King

John nodded his red head. Avice noted he was dressed neatly and cleanly. He wore a long brown cloak down to his knees, with a matching pair of hose. On his feet he wore mid-calf black boots – well-polished and shining in the daylight. A belt, engraved with ocean waves and fish, hung loosely on his trim waist. A small knife and pouch hung from it. Beneath his well-muscled arm was something wrapped in linen.

A grin spread across his handsome, rugged face as he stooped to rub Bramble’s floppy ears. “I apologise, Avice, I have not allowed you to have your morning preparations.”

The midwife licked her dry lips, her throat parched. She also could not ignore the squeeze of her bladder; she would need to take the trip into the woods soon to her relieve herself amongst the bushes. The demands of hospitality needled at her. Avice adored her best friend’s company – but he could not have come at a more difficult time.

“Nell is here too,” John offered.

He straightened up from patting Bramble and looked hopeful at being let in. The Grim butted the man’s calloused hand at the loss of attention.

Avice’s face lit up, she adored the little girl, and not for the first time she hoped that John might finally let her take the child on as an apprentice. “She is? Where?”

“Playing with the Pillywiggins,” he replied nodding his head in the direction of the holly bush.

Avice groaned, rubbing her eyes with the balls of her fists. John and Nell, like Avice, had the gift of the sight. The ability to see what was normally unseen. Both could perceive the Good Neighbours in their own ways. Though living closer to the village, they were not as open about their abilities. Once, Aunt Agnes had said all the villagers of the Lamorna could sense the Faeries. But now, no longer.

“I did not want to wake the Pillywiggins yet,” she sighed, not daring to glance outside.

“Why?” John asked, his brow furrowed.

“They will want to start the gardening for Spring. It is far too cold for that,” Avice explained.

“I am sorry,” John apologised, wringing his large, calloused hands.

Avice sighed and gave him an exasperated smile. “It is alright, you were not to know,” she replied. “Give me a moment. Let me dress and visit the woods for a spell. Then I will make some breakfast for us all.”

Avice had sent John and Nell to retrieve water from the closest brook while she tended to her morning routine. When they returned, she was truly ready to face the day. While Avice prepared their food and drink, John went out again to fetch kindling.

She melted the chunk of ice he had returned with over the hearth in a battered copper cauldron. Ashling worked double time to change the ice from solid mass to bubbling water so Avice could prepare their tea. She steeped dried chamomile flowers while she sliced the fresh bread John had brought with him.

The midwife made sure to toss a crust to Bramble, and then a pinch for Ashling. She held it out and the Wisp floated upwards. He took it with two stubby limbs that extended from his round body. Ashling opened what Avice guessed was a mouth and swallowed the large crumb with a delighted chirp.

Nell stuck her head inside the cottage. Strands of her curly, auburn hair escaped her head covering, and her pale, round cheeks were flushed. She was dressed smartly. She wore a long, red cloak, matching stockings, and brown boots. Her play in the garden had muddied her shoes. She stomped inside, leaving a track of small footprints behind.

“Can we have breakfast outside?” she asked, bubbling over with excitement. “I want to keep playing with the Faeries.”

A scarlet Pillywiggin, about the size of a large crow, fluttered inside on her dragonfly-like wings and landed on the ten-year-old’s shoulder. She grinned widely. Her sharp, pointed fangs glinted in the Wisp-light. She ran her spindly fingers down Nell’s cheek, making the girl giggle. The Pillywiggin let out a squawk.

Avice narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the Faerie, to her, the call sounded possessive. “Come here, Nell.”

The Pillywiggin shrieked and leapt from the girl’s shoulder to the tabletop when she dashed over to the midwife. Bramble, who – as always – sat at Avice’s feet, let out a soft growl. Nell was tall for her age, and Avice was short, so she only had to crouch slightly to meet the girl’s grass-green eyes.

“You know that you must never go into the woods with them if they invite you?” the midwife said. “They are dangerous. Even the Good Neighbours who live in my garden. Piskies, Pillywiggins, Buccas, Wisps, Knockers, Caps, all of them.”

Nell stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “But… Ashling is a Wisp?”

Avice sighed. “He is, but Ashling is bound to me, with a drop of my blood. It means we look after each other. Do you understand?”

The girl turned her head to the Pillywiggin squatting on the table, her wings vibrating irritably. “Does that mean I can give her a drop of my blood? Then I will be safe to go and play with her?”

“No!” the midwife exclaimed. “I only bonded to Faeries when I came of—”

A sudden pain cracked against her temple, followed by a crash of an object at her feet. Avice let out a shriek and squeezed her eyes closed.

“Ow!”

Stars danced across her vision as Bramble’s echoing barks rung in her ears. Rubbing her temple and opening her eyes, she watched as the Grim chased the Pillywiggin from the cottage. He knocked over a chair and sent a broom flying as he went, the Faerie squealing indignantly as it flew away.

“Miss Avice!” Nell exclaimed. “Are you alright?”