"How can everything go back to the way things were before?" Marin mused aloud, more to Tilly than to the trio who had conspired to ruin his reputation and livelihood. "There's literally a new baby right here in the room."

Tilly looked up and over at him, her mouth pressed into a line, a small shake of her head. She clearly didn't understand either.

But just because he wasn't directing his comment over at the bed where Jocelyn lay, didn't mean they didn't hear him. Albert stood and turned. A mountain of a man, his shoulders, arms, and chest were built up from working the forges since his boyhood. "That-that abomination came from you," he seethed, pointing at the make-shift bassinet. "I honestly can't believe that you've dared show your face around here, after what you have done."

Marin knew that what he had done was save Jocelyn's life, but had no will to argue against such a huge opponent, so he kept his mouth shut and averted his eyes. But he had noticed Jocelyn flinch at Albert's use of the word abomination. Her mother, who was in on the ruse, also looked away. While Albert could deny his paternity, there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that this child was the flesh and blood of Jocelyn, and therefore of Blanche.

Albert stayed standing in front of Jocelyn's bed, like a guard dog waiting for an attack signal. But Marin turned his body and slunk next to Tilly, tucking his tail between his legs and retreating. He went back to his task of preparing a fresh mug of pain-reducing tea. At that, Albert's shoulders relaxed, and he turned back towards the bed.

"Well, what is to be of the babe?" Tilly asked, still drip feeding the infant from the bottle of goat's milk.

They met her question with silence. Marin looked back over at Jocelyn's bed. But from where he was now sitting, he couldn't make out their faces.

After a minute or two, Jocelyn finally answered. "I've done my part. All I want is my old life back."

Marin looked over at the baby. She was so small. And completely innocent and vulnerable. Even though she'd only been born but an hour ago, her head was rounding out, her coloring had calmed to a rosy hue, and she was lying on her back smacking and licking at Tilly's finger. He felt a wave of pity for this small being, so new to the world.

How could Jocelyn be so callous? Was she a monster? How could he have ever loved–or thought that he loved–a woman capable of such cruelty?

He tried to figure out what was going on inside Jocelyn's head. Was she so terrified of loosing Albert? Of the shame of being an unwed mother? He had to admit that hers was not an enviable position. Even if she could stick to her story that the child resulted from an assault, Marin knew Jocelyn would be a marked woman. Looked upon as a sinner. Never to be married and always dependent on her parents. As a bastard, this poor innocent baby would also carry the mark of sin.

Yet, here was Albert, showing Jocelyn an alternative path. All she needed to do was abandon this mistake and to allow things to go back to how they were nine months before.

Albert was the monster for not marrying her as soon as Jocelyn's condition was known. She was just a coward.

Feeling disgust, but at a loss at what he could do, Marin stood up. The tea leaves were prepared; he just needed to get boiling water from the kitchen. "I'll be back," he told Tilly, motioning to the mug. She nodded, and he headed out of the room and back down the rear staircase.

Entering the kitchen, Marin saw Greggory was ladling stew into bowls. "How is everything?" the man asked without looking up.

"Did you know Albert is upstairs?" Marin wrapped a rag around his hand before grabbing the kettle from the red-hot iron coil that was kept next to the fire.

"What?" Greggory dropped the ladle with a splash.

"Yes, he arrived in a few minutes ago."

"Kenny!" Greggory called out, and a young man hustled back into the kitchen. They must have hired help since the last time Marin had eaten here.

"Yes?"

"Finish with these stews," Greggory ordered, wiping his hands on his apron and then rushing out the back.

With the tea steeping, Marin followed, careful not to scald himself.

"What are you doing here?" Greggory's voice was loud enough to be heard on the stairs.

Blanche made a muffled reply, but Marin wasn't able to make out the words as he walked down the hallway.

Still holding the hot tea, Marin made his way into the room. Greggory was still by the threshold, Blanche had stepped around Jocelyn's bed and was standing between her husband and Albert. "Daddy, please," Jocelyn said in a calm, soothing voice. "You should be grateful that Albert came here."

"Grateful?" The scowl on Greggory's face let Marin know they had not fooled him. He knew the truth about how this baby came to be. Not a single person in this room truly believed that Marin had committed a crime that led to this baby's conception.

"Greggory," Blanche's voice warned. "Albert wishes to court our daughter–formally–now that her condition has been, well, has ended."

Marin suddenly felt very hot, and he placed the tea down on a table. The movement drew everyone's eyes to him.

"That is the man who has brought shame upon your household." Albert pointed at Marin. "But I will look past that because my love for your daughter is so great. When I heard that her life almost ended today, and I had to contemplate living in a world where she was not alive, I realized this sin was something that I could forgive."

If Marin hadn't been so frightened of Albert, he would have laughed.

A storm blew across Greggory's features, but the steely look on his wife's face anchored him. "Very well, Albert. If you are serious about committing, then I accept your request to formally court my daughter."

Albert turned towards Jocelyn, who smiled broadly, relief evident. "Thank you, Daddy!"

Marin and Tilly stared first at each other, and then at the still unnamed baby. What were they to do?

At that moment, the infant let out a yowl. Her face scrunched up and turned bright red. Seconds later Marin heard a sound like wet mud being squished under bare feet.

"Oh good! She made her first poop," Tilly said, her excitement in discord with the turbulent feelings floating throughout the room.

Ignoring the conversation that had just happened, Tilly cleaned up the baby, whose backside looked as if it had been smeared with tar.

When she saw Marin's face, she explained, "It's normal for a baby's first movement to look black. This is a good sign. She's healthy."

"Excuse me, but can you take it away now?" Albert asked.

"Take it away? And do what with her? She's a baby, not a dirty bowl that needs to be returned to the kitchen," Marin snarled, surprising himself.

Albert stood to his full height. "By all accounts, you are the father. So, go be a father."

Marin looked at Jocelyn to see if her face betrayed any disagreement with Albert. But she just looked away. Neither Blanche nor Greggory put up any protest either.

"You want me to take the baby?" Marin repeated, dumbfounded.

"Do you have too much dirt in your ears?"

Marin looked at Tilly, who had finished cleaning the baby and had wrapped her in a fresh blanket. "Come on, let's go." She stood, holding the baby in her arms. "Can you carry my bag, along with yours?"

"Yes, of course," Marin said, still not sure what this turn in events meant. He picked up Tilly's bag in one hand and slung his satchel over his shoulder and then followed her out of the room. He didn't look back.

Where would they take the baby? And what did this mean about having an audience with the Abbot? What would his father think if he showed up with this newborn? He had so many questions swirling through his mind. He only prayed that Tilly might have some answers.