"It's for infectious wounds."
"I know."
Her gaze raked up and down my length. "You don't appear to have anything wrong with you."
"It's not for me. I'm buying it for a friend."
"Then I can't sell it to you." She went to close the door but I thrust my foot into the gap.
"I can pay," I said, stupidly.
She sniffed. "I can't sell it to you if it's not for you. That's the rule."
"Whose rule?"
"Mine."
"How do residents who are infirm get their medicine?" I pressed. "Horatio Grigg lost both legs to infection and cannot walk. His daughter-in-law would pick up an ointment whenever he needed more. Do you not sell it to her? Does he have to come here in person? That would be difficult for him."
"It's perfectly all right for family members to buy on behalf of their loved one. You don't have family, Miss Cully, and you already admitted it was for a friend."
I drew in a deep breath but it didn't help. I was very close to losing my temper. "My friend doesn't have family in the village. How do you propose he come and get what he needs if he is infirm?"
"Is he infirm?"
"He's injured."
"That's not what I asked." She pulled hard on the door, banging it against my foot. "Please leave or I will send for the sheriff."
"He has better things to do," I said.
"Agreed."
I stepped back, but she opened the door wider instead of shutting it. Yvette Baker slipped through the gap, one of her five children in tow. She dipped her head as she passed me, not meeting my gaze.
"Sorry, Josie," she muttered. "I'm real sorry, but Pip has a rash."
"It's all right, Yvette." To Pip, I said, "Doctor Ashmole will clear that rash up for you."
The boy scratched his wrist where a red welt spread from beneath his shirt cuff. "His hands are cold and he smells funny."
His mother dragged him away so hard he had to run to keep up.
I returned to the Divers' house, muttering as many swear words under my breath as I could before reaching the threshold. Mistress Diver would not like me using sailors' language in front of her children. It didn't help ease my temper, however, and I dashed off a message to Dane in anger. Meg's two younger sisters agreed to take it to the palace.
I visited one of my patients in the early afternoon. She lived at the edge of the village, and the quickest route was to pass by the dock. But the dock area was a busy place these days, not only with sailors, porters, builders, and carts of all sizes coming and going, but also with men looking for work. I had a good chance of running into Ivor Morgrain there. The less I saw of him, the better. He seemed to think I'd make him a good wife. The notion was both amusing and horrifying.
Delle was close to her time, but she was healthy. The baby's heartbeat sounded strong through the ear trumpet I placed to her belly, and Delle seemed prepared for his or her arrival. I assured her the discomfort was normal and instructed her to send for me as soon as her contractions started.
The sun was setting and afternoon shadows shrouded the village by the time I left Delle. I traveled back to Meg's house the same way, avoiding the docks. Most of the workers would soon be finishing for the day and either heading home or to one of the inns, but not yet. For now, Mull almost resembled the quiet, sleepy village I'd known my whole life. The market and shops were closed, and women were at home preparing the evening meal. Some children played in the streets, but their numbers thinned as I moved out of the residential district toward the village green.
I took a shortcut down one of the narrow alleys behind the shops, but regretted it as soon as I entered. The reek of piss and horse dung hadn't been so strong the last time I'd ventured this way. Avoiding the dung and the filthy puddles pooling in the wheel ruts meant leaping and sidestepping as deftly as a dancer, and took all of my concentration.
The whinnying horse lifted both my attention and gaze from the cobblestones. Up ahead, a man stood on a cart. He pushed a barrel with his foot to another man waiting to receive it at the end of the cart. The second man hoisted the barrel onto his shoulder and carried it into one of the many storerooms lining that side of the alley. The first man pulled back a canvas on the cart, revealing four more barrels. He tipped one onto its side and rested his foot on it, waiting for his friend to return. He spotted me and quickly lowered his hat over his forehead and turned away, but not before I saw his face.
Ned Perkin.
I hurried along the alley, pulling my coat tighter at my chest as a gust of wind teased my hair and skirts. I shivered, despite summer's warmth lingering into the early autumn days.
The shadows weren't so deep in the broader streets. I nodded at Peggy as she locked the door to the Buy and Swap Shop and waved at Rory the boot maker as he also closed up for the day. At the corner, someone swore and another man took offence at his language. The swearer walked off, but the other stepped in his path and shoved the swearer in the chest. I wasn't sure who threw the first punch.
It was as if someone had lit a torch and waved it to attract moths. Men emerged from the shadows and flocked to the fight, shouting, pushing, and throwing punches. So much for a quiet walk home.
I quickly veered off and hurried away. The incident had heightened my senses, and I began to notice everyone and everything. A man slouched in a recessed doorway and another four lurked nearby, lines of anger scoring their foreheads. I caught snippets of their earnest conversation. I didn't need to hear all of it to know they were complaining about rising rents and the lack of affordable food for long-time locals.
Further ahead, in the middle of the street, two men I recognized as Mullians shouted at two strangers while a whore tried to get their attention. Prostitutes were rarely out this early or this far into the village. The sheriff usually left them alone as long as they weren't visible outside The Row.
I kept my gaze low, my medical pack close, and my wits about me.
My heart felt heavy. Mull had become a wild frontier where the law couldn't contain the burgeoning crime. Dane was right. The lull that had descended over the village after the shock of the king's death was wearing off. There would be more fighting, more crime, and perhaps even riots. It wouldn't be contained to The Row, like it used to be. It was already spilling into the streets that had always been safe for me to walk down. How much worse would it get before something was done?
Knowing the governor and the Deerhorns, it would get much, much worse before they took action to alleviate the rising pressure.
I turned another corner and immediately spun around and walked in the opposite direction. Riding on horseback up ahead were Lady Deerhorn and the governor. I prayed to the goddess that she hadn't seen me.
The goddess wasn't listening.
Hooves pounded on the cobbles behind me, so fast that I knew they wouldn't stop in time. I dashed to the left, slamming into the brick wall with bruising force. The horse galloped past so close that droplets of its sweat sprayed me.
Lady Deerhorn's purple riding cape billowed behind her like a tail, only to settle over the horse's rump as she stopped up ahead. She wheeled the horse around and rode back to me.
"Next time, get out of my way, Miss Cully," she snapped.