Bess, Magda, and Lucie’s Aunt Phillippa were all in attendance. Owen and Jasper paced down below. It was proving to be a long wait. Magda had called down for them to open all doors, windows, and drawers to encourage the child to come forth. When hours passed and they still heard no cries, Jasper suggested that they open all the jars in the shop, too. The task was soon complete, and still the two paced to Lucie’s cries, not the babe’s.
At midday, Tom Merchet dragged them out of the house. ‘Come to tavern. ’Tis an old North Country custom to tempt the child forth by drinking to its health and long life.’
Owen was almost certain Tom made it up — he saw the twinkle in his eye — but he was weary of pacing, and the shop was closed for the event. There was no point in refusing.
‘Boy or girl, what think you, Owen?’ Tom asked as he filled three tankards.
‘Perhaps a smaller cup for the lad,’ Owen suggested.
‘On such a day as this?’ Tom shook his head and kept pouring.
‘Boy or girl?’ Tom repeated, joining them at the table.
Owen shrugged. ‘’Tis unlucky to predict, Tom.’
‘Well, I’m hoping for a fine lad. Then Tom gets to be second godfather to ’im. But if a girl, it’s Bess will have the honour of joining your family before I do. She’ll brag about it till the end of time. Worse yet, she’s said ’tis a girl from the first.’ Tom took a long drink.
‘What will I be to the baby?’ Jasper asked quietly.
Owen nodded. He and Lucie had wondered about that, too. The boy was not their son, yet they thought of him as such. They had decided to leave the matter up to him. ‘Brother to Gwenllian or John would suit us, but ’tis your decision, lad.’
In the end, it was Magda Digby, the Riverwoman, who decided the issue. She burst into the tavern beaming right at Jasper. ‘Well, lad, the gods have brought thee a sister to protect. Art thou man enough for it?’
Owen was out the door before Jasper could get the answer out.
Tom Merchet shook his head and sighed. ‘The wife has won again.’