Page 26 of The Knucker King

There was another side to this joyous coin.

The heart-shattering sensation Avice felt when she knew by looking at a child that they would not survive long: too weak to latch and suckle, too tiny to stay warm, and too little to cry out when hungry.

In the past, before Christendom, whispered rituals rippled through generations of women in Lamorna. They would speak of leaving their newborns in the woods, to be claimed by the Faeries, so there would be a chance of their children living on amongst them – it was thought kinder than letting them die at home.

It was true of course; the Good Neighbours would take on the care of the babies left in the woods and even steal ones that they took a fancy to.

Avice shook her ruminations from her head.

There was work to do. Matilda would have to be prepared, and Avice was willing to offer her and her boy the same she had offered to Joan and Hope. To give him a chance to live.

Trewoofe will take him to the Piskies if I ask.

The thought of the savagely beautiful Knucker made her chest ache. Something within the core of her twisted with an unfamiliar, but pleasant, feeling. She craved his softness, his kindness, his patience.

It made her want more.

Concentrate.

Avice opened her mouth to speak, but Lucille piped up first. “He will not live long, will he?” she asked, peering over Matilda’s shoulder. “Too small, right?”

“Lucy!” Emma bit, before bringing her hand down to cuff her cousin on the back of her head. “God’s blood! Let Tilly have this moment; there is no need to state what is obvious.”

Matilda shifted in the birthing chair; blood smeared down her legs. She looked up at Avice. The midwife studied her patient’s face. Her skin was sallow. Large, dark circles bagged her desperate eyes, and – heartbreakingly – tears ran rivers down her cheeks.

“Can anything be done?” Matilda asked, her voice raw.

“I heard you took Goodwife Joan’s baby,” Lucille blurted out. “Is that true? Did you take her to the Good Neighbours? What did they say?”

“Be quiet! In fact, get out,” Emma growled at the younger woman, pointing a finger at the door.

“But it is still dark outside!”

“I do not care; you cannot behave yourself and this time is not about you. May the Nightly Neighbours take you!”

Lucille scoffed and stomped away. She paused for a moment to tug on her gloves and left the cottage with another harsh slam of the door.

Avice said nothing over the squabble. Emma was right. Lucille had been mostly unhelpful, besides fetching the birthing chair, she had sat back and watched the difficult labour like a spectator. Avice could not help but wonder why exactly the young woman had attended.

As though she could read her thoughts, Emma looked apologetically at Avice. “She is engaged. The wedding is set for late Spring. She wanted to know what birth entailed.”

“The whims of a girl are hardly more important than the wellbeing of a sister,” Avice replied steadily before turning her attention to Matilda. “My treatments can do nothing with a baby born so early. If I am honest…” She gnawed at her lip. “…I am surprised he was born alive,” she admitted. “If you wish it, I can ask the Well King to take him. It is true, Joan’s daughter still lives, and your son may have a chance too.”

“There is really nothing you can do so I can keep him here with me?” Matilda asked, her voice thick with tears.

Avice shook her head sadly. “To save him? No.” She ran her fingers over her pendant. “But I could make him comfortable. Give you some time with him? Hold your hand and be here for you?”

Matilda used her free hand to wipe her cheeks. “I would rather him have a chance than none.” She smiled sadly down at the bundle in her arms and kissed her son’s small, downy head. “Your mother loves you,” she whispered before meeting the midwife’s face again. “Boarden, that is his name.”

“As strong as a boar? Good choice,” Avice complimented. “Before you give him to me, I need you to know. You may never see him again, and if you ever do, he will not be fully human anymore.”

“I know he does not have long, Avice.” Matilda’s voice cracked again, more tears silvering in the corners of her bloodshot eyes. “Please, take him from me, and give the King my thanks for giving my son a chance at life.”

A lump caught in Avice’s throat as she took the tiny baby from Matilda’s arms, he was so light, the midwife felt like she was only lifting the blanket and the space within was only occupied by air. The fabric shifted slightly from the child, and as Avice went to tuck it back around him, she noticed a peculiar mark. She used her thumb and wiped away the blood that marred it. On his upper arm, she noticed a tiny leaf shape, dark green in colour and etched into his skin.

A Faerie’s mark? She wondered, narrowing her gaze at the spot. I will ask Trewoofe and Bramble what they think.

She continued to wrap the child, bundling him as much as she could. The night was bitter and cold, and Avice wanted to give Boarden the best chance she could for him to get to the well alive.