Chapter 24
Avice
Adull thump the following morning tugged Avice from her deep sleep. She cracked open an eye and closed it again. She nuzzled into Trewoofe’s bandaged arms, determined to rest after the last few exhausting days.
Another thump.
Avice groaned, and turned into Trewoofe’s chest, pressing her cheek to the soft linen. She squeezed her eyes as she heard Bramble rise and pad over to the door, claws clicking on the rammed earth floor.
Avice.
“No, Bramble,” she murmured. “God’s blood let me rest.”
Another thud which – now that she was not half asleep – was clearly a knock, had her trying to bury her head into the blankets.
Avice, it is—
“Midwife Avice?” John called from outside the door. “There has been an accident, one of the fishermen… Are you there?”
Guilt pricked at her. She had planned on staying on the pallet, snuggled up against Trewoofe for as long as she could that morning. Clearly, the day was conspiring against her.
She stuck her head out. “Coming!”
Avice heaved herself up, muscles screaming from the day before, and shuffled over to her coffer to pull on a robe. She opened the door a crack and squinted up at John’s face in the midmorning light.
“What is it?” she snapped.
John jerked at her tone. “Bad-tempered today, are you not?”
She studied him for a moment. He was wrapped against the chill, but there was a blaring bloodstain on the front of his beige cloak.
Avice inched the door open a little more, face pinched with worry. “What happened?”
“A Morgowr attacked Benjamin Courier,” he replied, pointing to the stain. “It damn near took his arm off.”
She blinked as her mind caught up. “Wait, a Morgowr?”
Avice had not heard of the oceanic Dragons attacking people before. Nor had Aunt Agnes ever mentioned it. She had never even seen one.
She rubbed her temple. “Give me a moment. I need to get dressed, gather my things, and relieve myself.”
John nodded. “I will be waiting right—”
Avice closed the door in his face, too tired to care about the rudeness.
I am coming with you, Bramble piped up. I do not want you going to the village alone after what happened last time.
“Agreed,” she replied, roughing his ears. “I have no desire to go alone either.”
She dashed over to Trewoofe and confirmed he looked as healthy, if not better, than the night before. His colour had improved; he took steady breaths and was warm to touch. She gave a satisfied nod and dashed over to her coffer to dress.
“Ashling?” she called. The Wisp drifted out of the fire. “Will you keep Trewoofe company again? I must attend to a patient.”
The Faerie bobbed in the air, and floated down to land on his shoulder, cooling his flames so he could nestle into his hair.
“Thank you.”
In a whirlwind, Avice prepared. She dressed for the cold, shoved on her boots, gathered her medical bag, and stuffed everything in she imagined she might need to treat a Morgowr bite.
She shoved an ash cake into her mouth and downed it with a slurp of bone broth. Finally, she threw open the door with Bramble striding out behind her. She drew out her key and locked her cottage up with a loud clunk.
John turned from examining Trewoofe’s flowers and scratched the Grim’s head. “You are coming too, then?”
She narrowed her eyes at the horse tied to a tree in her garden, chewing on some of the magical blooms, but a painful squeeze of her bladder distracted her from the question that formed on lips.
“Yes, I will not be going to the village alone anymore,” Avice replied. She gestured to the woods outside the boundary of her stone circle. “A moment, boys, I must relieve myself.”
“Jonathan Fisher,” she hissed. “I have never been on a horse before.”
The mare in question stood patiently in front of her.
“Epona is a good girl, Avice.” John patted her neck.
The midwife considered the creature. If she could sum her up in a word, sturdy came to mind. The mare’s shoulder lined up with John’s, her chestnut pelt gleamed under the grey clouds, and a long white mane and tail tumbled from her neck and rump.
“I will take you to and from the village,” he offered. “It will save you the walk.”
“Epona.” The mare’s name sounded familiar to Avice, and the recollection struck her. “George Courier named her after the Goddess of Horses?”
Only the three wealthiest men in the village owned a horse: Father Peter, Simon the blacksmith, and George Courier – he was the official messenger of Lamorna, delivering letters all over Cornwall, and to wider Wessex.
John’s brow furrowed. “There is only one God, Avice.”
Avice stuck her chin out. “If that is what you want to think.”
Bramble ambled over to the mare and stretched to snuff at her. She lowered her head slightly, and their noses met.
She is friendly, Avice, her familiar reported. She said she will make sure she goes carefully.
She smiled at the Grim, before turning her attention back to John. “Why would Mister George be alright with you borrowing Epona? And using her to carry me around?”
“George and Benjamin are cousins,” he explained. “He was going to fetch you himself, but I suggested that you would prefer I come for you.”
Avice appreciated that John had offered. She did not want any more men than necessary tromping through her garden and disturbing her peace.
“What are we waiting for then?” she asked, offering her hand to the mare who lipped at her glove.
John scoffed. “Come around to this side, on the left. I will give you a lift.”
The midwife did as she was asked and shuffled over to the flank. She eyed the thick rug that was spread on the mare’s back. John kneeled and offered his palms for her to step on. She did so, and he launched her up, helping her land correctly with a shifted hand to her waist.
Epona let out a huff as she fell roughly on her back. “Sorry, girl,” Avice apologised, giving her a pat. “I am not skilled at this.”
The horse let out a grunt in response.
John untied the mare. “My turn!”
Like a stag bounding through a glen, he mounted Epona in one smooth motion. He found his seat right in front of the midwife. John reached behind him and tugged Avice’s hands around his waist, settling them on his solid torso.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Hold on tight.”
John picked up the rope bridle and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Epona started at a quick walk, and Avice clung to John for dear life. Avice felt his legs squeeze against the horse’s belly, and the mare took off at a trot out of the stone circle of her garden.
She let out a squeak and pressed her forehead into John’s back. You rode a Knucker, pull yourself together.
Her stomach somersaulted as she rested her chin on the fisherman’s shoulder, squinting against the chilled air stinging her face. She caught Bramble in her periphery, running in the shadows by their side.
“Are you alright?” John asked over his shoulder, a smirk on his face.
“Yes… I think so,” she replied, turning her face from the wind.
Why is it, every time I step outside, it feels colder?
Despite her many layers of clothes, Avice shivered against John’s back as they trotted at a steady pace towards central Lamorna.