Page 24 of The Knucker King

A loud, primal groan emanated through the silent night. Concern twisted Trewoofe’s gut as he lowered his head. Avice slipped from him before he had completed the movement, landing with a wobble on her booted feet.

She began to dash to the door, before turning back to him. “Thank you, Lord!”

Trewoofe dipped is head in acknowledgement. The bags fluttering either side of his head, buffeted by the wind. “I will be here when you are done and will take you home.”

11

Chapter 11

Avice

Avice burst into the dimly lit cottage, squinting through the gloom. The central hearth crackled, feeding on the logs within. The one-roomed dwelling warmed her chilled nose as she moved through it. On the wooden pallet, sprawled on the bedding, lay William Farmer’s wife, Matilda.

She was flat on her back, grasping the mid-sized bump of her belly. She made eye contact with Avice, streaks of her hair blocking parts of her desperate gaze. Another ghostly wail left her lips; so loud that for a moment it felt like it shook the ground beneath her boots.

“Midwife!” a woman exclaimed, getting up from her knees next to the pallet. “It is too early, is it not?”

Avice quickly assessed the situation. Goodwife Emma, who had just spoken, was Matilda’s sister and there for support – as she had always been in the past. Another, much younger, woman knelt beside the pallet. She looked vaguely familiar to Avice, perhaps a cousin to the sisters and newer to Lamorna.

“Avice!” Matilda called, reaching her hand out to the midwife. “This is different than the others. Something is wrong.”

Avice helped Matilda survive the battlefield of birth before. In fact, the midwife considered the woman a remarkable mother and patient with five living children. This was unprecedented in Lamorna. All were healthy, the oldest having seen fifteen turns of seasons and the youngest seeing two.

Perhaps too close to the last, Avice theorised as she swept over to Matilda and clutched her reaching hand. “My friend,” she chided gently. “We both know the pallet is not where babies come into the world.”

“I know, I know,” Matilda replied through gritted teeth before letting out another groan.

The younger woman by the bedding flinched at the noise and balled her fists. Avice rolled her eyes, wondering whether she would be any use whatsoever in this difficult time.

“Where is the birthing chair?” Avice asked, casting her gaze across the dimly lit room, unable to spot it.

“Uh… at my home,” Emma replied with a squeak.

The midwife narrowed her gaze at the woman. “Why?”

“They are such a big family, with little room to spare. I offered to keep it there, seeing as there are only three of us, for the moment,” Emma babbled, brushing her hand over her own slight bump.

Avice rolled her eyes. She knew that already. She had accidentally caught Emma and her husband in passionate throes, against a tree, in the woods as she gathered mushrooms in the late Autumn.

“I am well aware of your condition, if you recall,” the midwife prompted her with a teasing smile.

Emma flushed at the reminder, before turning her face away.

“You…” Avice turned to the younger woman. “Outside, there is a hound. Black fur and red eyes. Ask him, politely, to take you to Goodwife Emma’s home, retrieve the birthing chair, and bring it back. Follow his trail. Do not wander from it.”

Her mouth dropped open. “But it is dark and cold outside. Surely, I will get lost, or catch my death, or the Nightly Neighbours may take me.”

“Lucille,” Emma snapped. “You wanted to be here; you wanted to help. This is how you do so. Tilly may die if she cannot be positioned correctly.”

Lucille, eyes wide and mouth round, looked back and forth between the sisters and Avice. She let out a huff and stood. The young woman stomped past them, tugged on her cloak that hung on a hook, wrenched open the door, and flung herself into the icy night. She slammed the door behind her, the force making the walls rattle.

Emma tutted and shook her head at her antics. She stepped over and kneeled beside her sister, right next to Avice. The midwife handed Matilda’s clammy hand to Emma and began to manoeuvre the labouring woman into a sitting position.

“God’s cock! It hurts!” Matilda shrieked as the midwife pushed her up.

“I know, but flat on your back will get you nowhere,” Avice replied firmly.

She rolled up the furs and blankets to help prop the labouring woman up; she lacked the strength to stay sitting otherwise. Matilda groaned and tried to flop back, making the midwife smirk as she thought of a fish flailing on the sand.