Page 20 of Malady

“That I cannot tell you. I do not know how much sickness was already within the parish when they closed their roads, or how many had crossed them beforehand.” His mask turns briefly towards the frost-hardened fields beyond the hedgerow. “If they acted early enough, they may hold. If they did not, they have merely bought themselves time.”

I glance back towards the road we have left behind, though Oakhaven itself is long hidden beyond the rise.

“Comforting.”

“You asked.”

“Yes, well. That was clearly my first mistake.”

“You can only hope the wind blows the other way,” Iscairn says.

“I hope it does.” I tuck my chin deeper into my cloak. “I know half the people there. We’ve traded at their market since before I could walk. I even let a boy from Oakhaven court me for a summer. Ralph Smythe. His father has an orchard near the mill, and every year when the plums came in, he would bring me the first two and swear blind they had fallen into his pockets by accident.” I can’t help smiling at the memory. “Then he married a girl from Ashcombe with a proper dowry and considerably less interest in leeches.”

“A man who cannot appreciate the medical value of a leech is a man of limited judgement.”

I glance up at him. “Oh, is that so?”

“Plums are useful for a matter of weeks. A knowledge of bloodletting may serve throughout the year.”

I chuckle. “I shall be sure to tell him, if Oakhaven ever permits me close enough to ruin his marriage.”

“His wife has the dowry. She will endure it.”

I laugh again and shake my head, though the thought of Ralph follows me as we continue through the thin snow, the jars knocking gently together in the basket on Iscairn’s arm. Somewhere between the boundary and the first cottages of Beswick, I find myself wondering whether he still saves the first plums of summer for his wife.

I doubt it. I’ve come to believe that men are rarely as inventive once they’ve successfully acquired the woman.

We make a brief detour to the apothecary to fetch the clove oil and poultices, then I lead Iscairn back out towards Margaret’s house. She must already be watching for us, because the moment we turn into her lane, the door flies open.

“Thank goodness,” she breathes, ushering us inside. “She’s barely slept since yesterday.”

The stifling cottage heat engulfs me, forcing me to shrug off my cloak whilst she fusses over two pairs of stockings hanging perilously close to the flames.

Lucy sits hunched on a stool beside it, one hand pressed against her jaw, her face blotchy from hours of crying. Whatever courage she might’ve gathered promptly abandons her when Iscairn ducks beneath the lintel behind me, filling the doorway, his satchel hanging from one hand.

Her eyes dart to the shutters, and I don’t blame her. If I were seven years old with a rotten tooth throbbing inside my skull and Iscairn came bending through my front door, I might seriously consider whether the window offered better prospects, too.

As she shrinks into herself, I shift instinctively closer, prepared to intervene if all that looming black proves too much for her. Instead, Iscairn lowers himself onto one knee until he’s level with her frightened face.

“It is going to hurt,” he states.

Her eyes widen.

Oh, for the love of⁠—

“For exactly three seconds, the pain will be sharp,” he continues. “Then it will be over.”

Iscairn opens his satchel whilst I reach for the clove oil. I soak a twist of clean linen and press it to the swollen gum as he bends closer to inspect the tooth. It’s a nasty little thing blackened through the centre and loose enough to shift at the slightest touch.

A frightened little sound escapes Lucy the moment he tests the tooth, and both hands fly up to cover her mouth.

“No,” she whimpers through her fingers. “I don’t want it.”

Rather than pressing her, Iscairn settles back slightly on his heels and lowers the forceps to his knee. “Do you know why I wear this mask?”

Lucy’s eyes creep reluctantly towards the pale beak, and she shakes her head without uncovering her mouth.

“I had a rotten tooth once,” he tells her. “A doctor said it needed removing, but I refused to let him pull it.”