Poncia had left the wares in charge of the pregnant maid, who had finally shown up, and returned home with Jehan. Auda was glad to see her father. The maid had been darting fretful looks at her, drawing back every time Auda moved or made a sound. He greeted her with a wide smile. “It was a fine morning, ma filla. One of the cobblers came by with a message from his son. Turns out the son’s wife had her first child. A boy! The cobbler made me write the news out to three people right then.” Ducking out of the stall with a nod to the maid, Auda herded him toward the edge of the market, away from the town center with its priests and Jacobins. Impatient, she handed him her tablet. She had been waiting all day to see him, had already written a few sentences to explain last night’s dinner. She reiterated with her fingers, miming first a sheet of paper, then a crown atop a lady’s head. Paper ordered by vicomtesse. Martin stopped in the middle of the road and asked Auda to sign again. “The vicomtesse?
