Page 41 of Malady

She nudges the burlap sack at her feet with the toe of her boot, and a muffled burst of wings answers from inside.

“And did the Lord deliver these pigeons to you Himself?” I ask.

She glances at the bird in her hand. “Well, no. I borrowed ‘em from Mr Langford’s coop.”

“Of course you did.” I hold out my hand. “Give me the birds, Mabel.”

She shifts one boot firmly over the sack and hugs the pigeon closer to her chest. “They’re instruments o’ t’Lord, Ophelia.”

“They are birds that eat horse shit from the road, and you are pressing their backsides into open wounds.”

Mabel lifts her chin. “Tha’s no proof they’re not blessed.”

With a sigh, I grab for the sack, but she snatches the drawstring just as my hand closes around the burlap. For a moment, we both haul at the same miserable bag while the pigeons thrash wildly inside, wings battering against the cloth until the worn bottom finally rips.

Six pigeons burst into the air in a storm of grey feathers and furious squawking. One smacks straight into Boris’s bare chest, smearing a wet streak of white across his collarbone before wheeling off over the lane, while another disappears beneath Mabel’s skirts and sends her shrieking backwards.

Within seconds, Weaver’s Lane is full of people lunging and grabbing at the air while Mabel bellows at them not to let the birds escape.

“Leave them!” I shout, pushing into the crowd and batting at a flurry of wings with my basket. “They are pigeons, not relics. Let them bloody go. Doctor Iscairn, assistance. Now.”

By then, most of them have already escaped over the rooftops, leaving only one determined little creature hopping towards the ditch while everyone else lunges after it. Iscairn waits until the last possible moment before stepping past me, bending once, and lifting the pigeon neatly from beneath their hands.

Two men nearly collide behind him during the scramble, but he turns and hands it over to me without so much as grazing my fingers. I tuck the protesting pigeon beneath one arm and turn back to Boris, still standing bare-chested in the cold, bird filth drying across his collarbone.

“Go home before you freeze. We’ll come to you shortly.”

Boris fumbles his shirt back over his shoulders and shuffles home slowly, one arm held awkwardly away from the swelling beneath it.

Mabel remains in the lane, staring up as the pigeons scatter over Beswick. “I were only trying to help.”

“I know, Mabel, but if I hear that you’ve pressed so much as a sparrow against another swelling, I’ll come and take it from you myself.” I adjust the bird beneath my arm. “And this one is going back to Mr Langford before he discovers his coop has been enlisted into medicine.”

I leave her to whatever argument she intends to have with the remaining villagers and start down the lane while Iscairn falls into step beside me. The pigeon has finally stopped trying to escape and now sits pressed unhappily against my ribs, its little heart hammering through the feathers beneath my hand.

We’ve not made it far at all when a familiar voice calls after us.

“Ophi? What in God’s name has happened here? We heard the commotion from the churchyard.”

My shoulders tighten. Gideon.

I keep walking, lengthening my stride as much as my leg will allow.

“Ophelia!” he shouts again, closer this time. “Ophi, wait. I need to speak with you.”

Iscairn glances back over one shoulder. “Your brother is calling you.”

“He is attempting to preach at me,” I mutter. “Keep walking.”

But before we take more than a few steps, someone calls from back down the lane. “Help! Please help!”

We both turn to see Nell Mercer racing towards us, her skirts dragging behind her, and her shawl slipping from her shoulders. She doesn’t halt, though, and she doesn’t acknowledge the figure at my side. Instead, she barrels into Gideon, her thin hands grasping at his cassock.

“Brother Gideon,” she gasps, tears streaming down her face. “Have you seen Billy? Have you seen him? Please, Brother Gideon.”

His hands close over hers gently. “Nell. Slow down. What’s happened?”

“He’s gone,” she sobs. “Billy. He went out last night to check the snares by the woods, and he never came home.”