4 January 1124

　　It had been five days since the family returned from the fields and discovered that Mama had died. Matilda hadn`t returned to the cottage since. She wanted to give the family time to mourn together and knew that Rachel would stay away if Matilda was there. So she`d returned once more to her isolation at the cave. But this time she had purpose. She was working on a plan.

　　After weeks in the fields, Matilda had finally come to terms with abandoning her mission. Or at least postponing it. She enjoyed the simple life of helping the family with the harvest and it had revealed an alternate pathway to achieving her mission`s objective.

　　Her encounter with the Bishop had demonstrated the fragility of her initial approach. One wrong move and the entire journey, and all of her sacrifice, would be for nothing.

　　Instead, Matilda reasoned that she could share her knowledge with the villagers, to get them started on the path to progress. Her Institute supervisors had always preferred a top-down approach that leveraged kings and cardinals to maximise the impact of a Chronomad`s lessons. But King Henry had left London and would be abroad for at least a year so time wasn`t an issue.

　　Matilda now saw that teaching lowly villagers would create redundancy for her mission. She would sow the seed of knowledge and hoped Holford would prove to be fertile soil.

　　It seemed like common sense but there would be obstacles. Rachel had rejected her, Mama was dead and Matilda was once again stuck back at the cave. Trust Mama and Rachel to find another way to torment her.

　　"Shake it off! Shake it off!" Matilda bellowed as she floated on her back in the stream, watching drops of rain fall through the canopy. She was freezing but still had nasty welts where Rachel had clawed at her face and the cool water eased her aches. Being set upon despite her efforts to help the family had hurt almost as much as the physical injuries.

　　Matilda swam back to the bank and pulled her clothes straight on before running straight back to the cave. She rekindled her fire and started preparing the rabbit she`d caught that morning. Her stomach grumbled. Meat had become a rare luxury while living with the family. Matilda was roasting the creature over the fire when she heard scrambling from above and saw William making his way into the gully.

　　"Helloooo!" he called.

　　"Just in time," Matilda replied, glad to finally have some company. "It`s scrawny but I`m guessing you haven`t had meat for days?"

　　William nodded hungrily and sat on his regular log as Matilda cut her rabbit in half. The rain had eased to a light spit and the combination of a warm fire, hot food and company made it feel almost cosy.

　　"How`s it been back at the cottage?" Matilda asked.

　　 "Depressing," William answered, staring into the flames. "Ma cries all the time and Rachel is tearing the place apart searching for Mama`s silk handkerchief, insisting that she can`t be buried without it. None of us have left the cottage, other than bringing Mama`s body to Father Daniel. It`s lucky we finished in the fields when we did."

　　"And how are you doing?" Matilda asked lightly.

　　"I`m alright. We knew it was coming, after Pa got better while Mama only got worse. She wasn`t the most pleasant person but, you know, she was family."

　　With a sympathetic smile, Matilda handed him the rest of her rabbit.

　　"Thanks," William said. "Looks like Rachel really hacked at your face. Sorry about that."

　　"It`s not your fault. She`s a real piece of work, that`s for sure. It took everything in me not to fight back, but she had just lost Mama. So she`s been spending more time with the family?"

　　"Unfortunately," William responded, the characteristic twinkle in his eye returned. "She`s causing as much chaos as normal but I think Ma appreciates that we`re all together. Rachel hasn`t spent so much time with us since her engagement. Which means Alan has been spending more time with us too, insufferable twit."

　　Matilda let the boy vent.

　　"Ma and Rachel want to give Mama a proper farewell so they`ve delayed the funeral until tomorrow. People are still busy taking care of their own sick loved ones but Father Daniel said that it couldn`t wait any longer&" William tried to put it delicately. "&for practical reasons."

　　Matilda tactfully changed the subject. "So the ploughing hasn`t progressed?"

　　"Oh, that`s why I`m here!" William said, sitting up excitedly. "Matthew was looking for you this morning! He has your plough knocked together and wants you to check it out."

　　Matilda was shocked. "Already!?"

　　"Yeah! He was really excited and said he`s barely slept since our visit. Though I couldn`t tell if that was about the plough, the chance to claim your fancy chainmail or the prospect of seeing you again," William teased.

　　"I`m not interested!" Matilda replied, more forcefully than she`d intended as a memory of rancid breath flashed in her mind. She saw William flinch and softened her tone. "Lord knows I`m not looking for anything romantic anytime soon. But it`s great news about the plough, I didn`t think he`d be done that quickly."

　　Matilda stared up at the sky to gauge how much daylight she had left.

　　"It`s too late to go now but I`ll come back to Holford tomorrow."

　　William squirmed. "Matthew will probably come to the funeral. The whole village will, Holford`s a pretty closeknit community."

　　"Don`t worry, Will. I won`t come to the funeral. I`m trying to keep the peace and there`s no chance of that if Rachel sees me. Plus, I don`t think Mama would like the idea of me being there. We didn`t exactly get along."

　　Relief flooded across William`s face. "We want you back home though, once everything returns to normal. The funeral will be in the morning so they can bury Mama before the smell gets any worse. You could even catch Matthew before it starts and make any final tweaks while we`re at the chapel."

　　"Sounds good," Matilda said.

　　William finished the last of the rabbit and threw the carcass into the fire.

　　"Excellent. I`d best be off, Rachel`s probably torn the cottage to pieces by now. Sorry I took so long to slip away. It`ll be great to have you back home, Holford`s mighty dull with you back here."

　　With that, William raced out of the gully and back towards the village.

　　Matilda smiled as she stoked the fire. He`d asked her to come back. Home.

　　+++

　　Matilda woke early and snuck in a morning run before walking into Holford. It was a nice day for the funeral. The drizzle had stopped and there was even the occasional patch of a blue sky.

　　Matilda whistled happily to herself as she walked back to the village, which felt odd given she was travelling towards a funeral. It had become increasingly easier to leave the cave, which felt less like home with each departure.

　　William waited for her at the ruined mill on the village outskirts, already dressed up for church. He wore his finest tunic, which was only slightly less faded and had fewer patches sewn into it. He`d even combed his unruly nest of hair.

　　"Looking good William," Matilda called, chortling at his boyish bashfulness at having his appearance complimented.

　　He ignored her. "You made good time. We can still see Matthew before the funeral starts."

　　Matilda didn`t break stride as William matched her pace and they cut toward the blacksmith`s forge.

　　"The Miller`s boy dropped by again last night to see how Margery was doing," William started casually, laughing when Matilda raised her eyebrows at the juicy gossip. "She claims they`re just friends but I think all Rachel`s marriage talk must`ve rubbed off."

　　"It won`t be long until there`s only you and Elizabeth to keep your parents company," Matilda joked. "Maybe there`ll be room for an old spinster like me to move in."

　　"You`re not too old," William said with an awkward cough. "Anyway, Henry said his father has already ground our grain into flour. All of it! Something about commiserations for our loss, though I`ve never known the Miller to help anyone and Mama wasn`t the most popular person in Holford. Regardless, imagine if Matthew`s plough works and we can have all the flour accounted for. All in one day! That`d take the sting from an otherwise lousy day."

　　Matilda agreed but his plans seemed ambitious.

　　Matthew was laying out the final pieces of the plough when the pair arrived at the forge. William ran in to help assemble the heavy machine. Matilda provided directions from her perch on the anvil while the two men strained to lift the heavy components into place. They all stood back to appreciate the contraption when William suddenly discovered a grease stain on his leggings.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

　　"Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit," he cried rubbing his leg vigorously.

　　"Careful boy, there`s a lady present," Matthew teased as William turned red as a beetroot. "Whatcha think? Am I on track to inherit that fine chainmail of yours?"

　　Matilda stood up from the anvil and walked a slow lap of the plough.

　　"Not bad gentlemen, not bad at all." She stopped at the handles and gave it a vigorous shake. It barely moved. "Sturdy craftsmanship. Nice and heavy. You haven`t skimped on the materials."

　　"So I`ve done good?"

　　"You`ve done well, Mister Smith. It looks good but the true test will come in the field. I expect you`ll be joining us for the maiden run?"

　　"Wouldn`t miss it!" Matthew replied excitedly.

　　Matilda paused in thought. "The challenge will be getting this heavy thing out there. And convincing the plough-team to even try it."

　　"I`ll talk to the ploughmen after the funeral," William injected enthusiastically. "Perhaps they`ll take pity on a grieving grandson?"

　　"I`ll talk to them too," Matthew offered. "They use their cattle to help move some of my larger jobs and still owe me for some repairs. I`m desperate to see if this thing will work."

　　"We`ll find out soon enough," Matilda said absentmindedly as she admired the machine. "You`d better get running to the chapel, we wouldn`t want you being late."

　　The men set off, excitedly talking about the plough. Matilda smiled as William peppered Matthew with a flurry of questions about the type of metal he`d used and where it was mined. The Boy`s thirst for knowledge really was insatiable.

　　Feeling odd standing alone in the empty forge, Matilda returned to the family`s cottage and loitered around the front. Holford`s lanes were dead quiet and it was eerie seeing the place so inactive. Realising she`d never been out the back, Matilda meandered around the building, eager to learn more about the minutiae of medieval life. She held her nose as she passed the outhouse, the smell making her want to wretch even through blocked nostrils. Matilda couldn`t teach the family about plumbing quickly enough.

　　The backyard was empty except for another small vegetable patch and a couple of apple trees. She was impressed by the size of the family`s plot but underwhelmed by its mundanity. The humble backyard hadn`t changed much in a thousand years.

　　Matilda was just about to return to the front of the property when she noticed a wave of colour in the compost corner beside the house. She walked over and was surprised to see Mama`s handkerchief discarded among the compost. Matilda was amused that Rachel had inadvertently thrown out Mama`s precious possession but the thought was quickly replaced by confusion as she recognised the composting contents surrounding the fabric.

　　The leaves of familiar plants were in various states of decay. Much more than should`ve remained from Elizabeth`s preparation of Pa and Mama`s medicines. Matilda pocketed the silk and shamelessly scrounged through the compost, unearthing even more of the rotting herbs. Too many. She had personally watched Pa take his doses and quickly deduced that there was only one possible explanation.

　　Rachel had thrown out Mama`s medicine.

　　Matilda was furious. Beyond furious.

　　How could the stupid girl let a petty disagreement with Matilda kill the woman she worshiped? Her closest family member struck down by a baseless grudge. Matilda knew that this would only worsen their divide. There was no hope of Rachel accepting any responsibility herself, she would blame Matilda and use it to fuel an escalated enmity.

　　Matilda fumed. She threw down the composting slop and marched away from both the cottage and Rachel`s foolishness. She was halfway down the road when she realised that she still had nowhere to go. She screamed out in frustration before pacing back and forth until her temper cooled and a plan started to form. Matilda decided to channel her anger into a more productive task and set off to find the Miller and start collecting the family`s bags of processed flour.

　　Matilda had no trouble finding the mill, having helped William deliver the final bags of unprocessed grain when they completed the harvest. However, she was concerned that, with the entire village would be at Mama`s funeral, there wouldn`t be anyone to release the family`s flour. Matilda breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the surly Miller standing by the warehouse door, talking to his daughter and counting sacks with his fingers. He grunted when he saw Matilda.

　　"What`re you doing here? Shouldn`t you be at the old nag`s funeral?"

　　"She`s not from here Papa," his daughter said with a look of disdain. "She`s been helping the Archer family with their harvest. Helped William drop off their grain before the old lady died."

　　The daughter spoke as though Matilda wasn`t even there and oozed entitlement from every pore of her overinflated body.

　　"That`s right," Matilda interjected with forced bubbliness, holding out a hand and hoping to overcome the Millers` animosity. "I`m Matilda, a pleasure to finally meet you Arnold."

　　The Miller grunted again, took a glance at her peasant clothing and left her hand hanging.

　　"I`m here to collect the Archer family`s flour," Matilda continued. "Your son said you`ve already processed it."

　　"Over there by the wall. Just take it and be gone. I`ve got too much to do and can`t have you getting in my way."

　　Matilda saw a collection of familiar sacks piled against the wall. Far more than she could hope to carry before the funeral finished. But feeling the handkerchief burning in her pocket, Matilda stiffened her resolve and picked up the first two sacks.

　　Matilda spent the rest of the morning repeating the same journey, carrying two large sacks on her shoulders and dumping them at the family`s door before running back to collect the next round. She was fuelled by her anger with Rachel and her burning arms reminded her of training sessions back at the Institute gym which made her feel alive.

　　Holford was empty besides the Miller, his petulant daughter and a portly old man who made pottery outside his rundown shack. Matilda`s journeys took her repeatedly past the Potter as she carried the heavy sacks back to the family`s home and he watched her with increasing interest. He gave her an encouraging smile after the third trip and by the time Matilda returned from her sixth trip he was waiting for her with a bucket of water.

　　"Impressive to see such stamina in a young lady," he told her as offered Matilda a ladle. "No need for concern, I heard your advice to the villagers and was sure to boil it first."

　　Matilda graciously accepted the water and took a seat at the old man`s doorstep.

　　"Thank you kind sir. It`s hot work, even harder than in the field. As much as we complained, at least the rain cooled us down."

　　The man gave a booming laugh. "Sir? I don`t think anyone has ever bestowed that honour upon a lowly potter like myself. Please, call me Timothy."

　　"Nice to meet you Timothy, I`m Matilda. That looks like some fine work," she said, gesturing to the row of pots drying behind him.

　　"Holford`s specialty and my own unique curse. I learned it from my Pa and he from his before him. I`ll still be making these same damn pots when the Lord returns to collect my withered skeleton on Judgement Day."

　　"Well at least you can show Him some quality work. Is it double glazed?" she asked, inspecting a finished sample.

　　"Ooh hoo hoo. A girl that knows her ceramics? What a find!" He looked at her with appraising eyes. "You and the Archers have done well to get so much flour, given the lateness of the season and Arnold`s tendency to cheat his customers."

　　"The family put in a lot of hard work," Matilda replied modestly.

　　"I hear it was more than that, young Matilda. That a certain foreign herbalist worked a miracle. What land produces such hardworking women who know about boiling water, improved farming and ceramics?"

　　He let the question hang.

　　"The United Kingdom," Matilda responded. "I went to a prestigious boarding school. A place of learning where students live and are taught many things. Craft, agriculture, arithmetic, medicine."

　　Timothy raised his eyebrows enquiringly. "I`ve heard of many places in my time, even been to some distant ones myself. But I`ve never heard of a United Kingdom."

　　"It is very similar to here, but also very different. And it`s much further away than I would like. I doubt I`ll ever return."

　　"I`m sure that if one as brilliant as yourself sets your mind to it, you`ll get there."

　　"We`ll see Mister Potter," she said, far from convinced. "So why aren`t you at the funeral with the rest of the village?"

　　"You know why?" he asked in a whisper before yelling his answer. "I never liked the old bat!"

　　Matilda was shocked at his brutal honesty but couldn`t help smiling as another wave of his deep laughter rolled over her. The shock on her face brought a tear to his eye.

　　"One of the perks of being old is you stop caring what others think. At my age, I`ve finally realised that life is too short to let others dictate how your feel or what you do."

　　"Amen to that. Though still time to make the same old pots?"

　　"Unfortunately so, a man must eat. But I content myself with a few moments away from the squabbles and petty politics of small village life. It gives me time to dream of what could have been. Making glass with my kiln perhaps."

　　"I`ve seen it done before, would you believe? If I ever finish with these damned sacks of flour I`d happily show you."

　　"At your magical boarding school, no doubt? Well, I`m interested but forgive an old man if I don`t hold out much hope. Glass has always proven elusive to me. So you intend to stay in Holford then?"

　　"For now. The Archers have shown me extreme kindness, though I don`t think they realise just how much. I`ll be on my way eventually but for now, I have a debt to repay."

　　Matilda bid farewell to Timothy and returned to the mill to collect more flour. He resumed his pot making but called out friendly words of encouragement whenever Matilda passed. The bucket of water sat on his doorstep awaiting her return.

　　Matilda smiled inwardly each time she passed the Potter. She`d made a friend.

　　After several more trips Matilda guessed that she had collected about a quarter of the sacks and the pile finally appeared to be dwindling. But when she returned for her next load, Matilda was surprised to see the pile noticeably reduced. The Miller and his bald labourer walked away from the warehouse, sacks of flour in their arms.

　　William and Timothy`s comments about the Miller`s shady dealings flashed in Matilda`s mind.

　　"Hey!" she called out. "Where`s all the flour gone?"

　　Arnold turned and considered Matilda.

　　"I`ve taken the processing fee," he said simply, deeming the matter resolved and turning back to his discussion with the labourer.

　　"I thought you`d already taken it. What is the fee?"

　　"Every twelfth sack produced," he replied warily.

　　"And how sacks many were produced from the family`s wheat?"

　　"Eighty-eight," the Miller replied instantly.

　　"Well I counted eighty sacks when I arrived, so you`ve already taken your fee. Now there`s little more than forty!"

　　"You`ve been moving them all day, I don`t know how many you have taken."

　　"I made nine trips with two bags each. There should be at least sixty sacks here."

　　Arnold did some calculations with his hands. Realising that Matilda knew more arithmetic than the average villager, the Miller changed tack.

　　"There`s a double fee for priority processing. I had to push their grain ahead of several other families."

　　"That`s ridiculous, the family never even asked to be bumped up the queue. Besides, even then you`ve taken much more than double."

　　"My son asked on their behalf," Arnold replied peevishly. "And it`s too late, it`s already done. Shouldn`t you be mourning a family death or something?"

　　Matilda stood in silent rage, her hands clasped so tightly that it felt like her knuckles would burst.

　　The Miller sneered. "People usually know better than to question my practices, woman. This is the only mill for miles. It is what it is. Now, have those remaining sacks collected by sundown or there`ll be an additional late fee. I can`t have them crowding up my workspace."

　　He walked away with the family`s flour still in his arms. Matilda found herself standing alone, baffled that the Miller could so brazenly steal their hard-earned harvest. He had a monopoly and he knew it. Matilda feared what else he`d taken from the other villagers.

　　With nothing else to do, Matilda collected another load of flour. She struggled to carry three bags but stubbornly resolved to do so just to spite the slimy Miller.

　　Matilda`s arms screamed with pain when she reached the family`s front gate. She dropped the sacks in triumph but the cottage reminded her of Rachel`s role in Mama`s death. She slumped to the ground, overcome by the injustice of it all.

　　"Living wasn`t all that hard," Matilda`s mother had always told her. "It was the people that made it most difficult."

　　So why were there so many shitty people in the world, Matilda wondered. Why were people so selfish?

　　An image of a portly old man with wispy white hair and kind brown eyes flashed into her mind. The echoing memory of his booming laughter was enough to prompt a smile.

　　The good people made it all worth it.