Chapter 44
Avice
As Avice looped and snipped the final thread to Emma’s tear, a sharp crack to her head had her falling to her rear with a painful thud.
“GOD’S COCK!”
Avice saw double. She squeezed her eyes closed, shaking her head from side-to-side.
“Em!”
Matilda’s voice was fuzzy, and the room slanted when Avice opened her eyes again. The midwife vaguely registered her patient glaring at her.
“Do not kick her! She just saved your life!” Matilda scolded.
“It hurt!” Emma bit back.
Avice rubbed her temple, trying to register what just happened. Her patient was alive and kicking. She should not be, not yet anyway.
“Where is Mary?” Emma demanded.
The midwife gingerly touched her head, a painful lump had already formed, and she hissed at the sting. Matilda appeared before her hazy vision, and she looked up at the woman’s blurred face.
“Midwife Avice, are you well?”
“…Yes, I think so.” She blinked several times, her sight returning to normal. “Just, a bit of a shock…”
They both snapped their heads to the glowering woman on the pallet. Her arms folded across her chest, and a sour look on her face.
“This is a miracle,” Matilda mumbled. “God’s miracle.”
Avice stiffened. “Not a miracle, magic.”
She had not anticipated that the combination of her treatments would work so quickly, and she swayed, a little dumbstruck.
“Magic?” the sisters asked together.
“Yes.”
She rubbed her aching head again, and grasped for the bottle of healing waters, linen, and moss she had organised beside the pallet. Emma’s stockinged foot twitched, and Avice shot her a withering look.
“Do not kick me again,” she ordered.
“I did not mean to!” Emma replied, her cheeks reddening. “Where is Mary? Did you manage to save her? When I saw her, how she struggled, I was so worried. I did not want her to die, and I did not want Matt to leave her in the woods—”
Matilda held up her hand to stop her sister’s babbling. “Just like you told me to. I made him take her to Midwife Avice…”
“…and King Trewoofe took her to Underneath,” the midwife finished, sloshing healing water between her patient’s legs.
Emma burst into tears. The thick, unrelenting sobs made her body shake. Matilda scooped her sister into her hug, squeezing onto the pallet next to her, and ignoring the blood as she rocked her like a child.
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.
“Yes, that is correct,” she agreed.
With that, Avice shoved the rest of her pie in her mouth and finished her tea.
She looked to the opened shutters and saw that the shadows had lengthened; it was already early evening.
While she knew she did not have to hurry to avoid the Nightly Neighbours, she wanted to get home and rest, as the activity of the past night and day began to wear heavy on her.
She stood, the wooden chair scraping across the floor. “I will take my leave.”
Matilda nodded, taking a final bite of her pastry. She wrapped the remaining small pies in cloth and handed them to Avice.
“It is the least we can do,” she said around her mouthful.
The midwife smiled up at the woman, the simple act of kindness warming her chest.
“Thank you.”
Avice stepped out of the Barley family’s cottage, and she nearly slammed into Matthew.
“Careful, Midwife!” he exclaimed, catching her by the elbows and placing her on her feet.
“Th-thank you,” she replied, adjusting her medical satchel over her shoulder.
Travis poked his head out from behind his father. “How is my Mamm?”
Avice smiled at the term of endearment for his mother. “She is sleeping now, but she is much improved.”
She side-stepped, moving out of the way so the boy could dart inside.
“Truly?” Matthew asked.
“Truly,” Matilda replied from behind her.
Avice tossed a grateful smile over her shoulder, which the woman returned. She knew it was unbelievable; never had she seen a patient recover so quickly from such an injury.
He performed the Signum Crucis – the sign of the cross – over his head and chest. “A miracle,” he murmured.
Avice dug in her heels. “Not a miracle,” she bit. “Magic, knowledge, and careful treatment.”
Matthew did not seem to even register her words, and instead entered the cottage, pushing past Matilda. The women smiled at each other, and Avice turned back to the lush kitchen garden, hearing the door shut quietly behind her.
“Bramble?”
The Grim emerged from the foliage. Petals had caught in his wiry coat and his ears pinned back as he loped towards her.
Nature’s blessing, Avice! he exclaimed. What happened to your head?
She touched the tender lump and let out a hiss. “The mother kicked me. It was an accident. She was more awake than I thought, and it was a reaction to the pain.”
Bramble tucked his tail between his legs. I promised the Well King that I would look after you, and you are hurt.”
He looked so dejected that Avice crouched to massage his ears. “Trewoofe will not be angry at you. It was an accident.”