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Penny's family had never been known for great strength or cunning or, well, cleanliness, but they had a strong streak of good old-fashioned common sense. It wasn't enough to become anything other than they'd always been, which was beggars and servants and whores, but it was good enough for that and for tying their shoelaces in the morning, and that was more than could be said for some of the nobles.
She wouldn't have gone for the likes of the poor child queen's boy if it weren't for her dad and family loyalty, but he weren't the worst sort if he weren't the best, as it turned out. She stroked his forehead in the candlelight, wiped a bit of drool from his slack mouth, and smiled at his sleeping face. He'd ask her to leave if he weren't tired out, she knew, but she'd keep at him until she conceived, like her dad said to, and in the meanwhile she could help herself to castle wares to feed her little brothers.
It might come to naught, this rutting, or it could gift the line of Blackadder with the common sense of the Baldricks, or taint the kin of Baldrick with inbred stupidity. Either way their families would be tied throughout the generations, and a girl could do worse than be kin to kings.
Pennyworth Baldrick yawned, climbed out of the bed, and pulled her rags back on. Just five more days, and then she could rest till the next full moon.