The Evening and the Morning

CHAPTER 37 August 1003

ing Ethelred held court in the marketplace outside Shiring Cathedral. Every citizen was there, plus hundreds from the surrounding villages, and most of the noblemen and senior clergy in the region. Ragna’s bodyguards made a path through the crowd so that she could get to the front, where Wynstan and Wigelm and all the other magnates stood, waiting for the king. She knew most of the thanes and made a point of speaking to each. She wanted everyone to know she was back.

In front of the crowd stood two cushioned four-legged stools under a temporary canopy put up to shade the royals from the August sun. To one side was a table with writing materials, and two priests sitting ready to pen documents at the king’s command. They also had a stilyard balance to weigh large sums of money if the king imposed fines.

The townspeople were excited. Kings traveled from town to town all the time, but even so an ordinary English person seldom got to see one in the flesh. Everyone was keen to see whether he seemed in good health, and what his new queen was wearing.

A king was a remote personage. In theory he was all-powerful but, in practice, edicts issued from a faraway royal court might not be enforced. The decisions of local overlords often had more effect on everyday life. But that changed when the king came to town. It was hard for tyrants such as Wynstan and Wigelm to defy a royal edict that had been pronounced in front of thousands of local people. Victims of injustice hoped for restitution when the king came to visit.

At last Ethelred appeared with Queen Emma. The townspeople knelt and the noblemen bowed. Everyone made way for the royal couple to walk to their seats.

Emma at eighteen was young and pretty, much the same as when Ragna last saw her six years ago, except that now she was pregnant. Ragna smiled, and Emma recognized her immediately. To Ragna’s delight the queen came straight to her and kissed her. Speaking Norman French, she said: “How wonderful to see a familiar face!”

Ragna was thrilled to be acknowledged as the queen’s friend in front of the men who had treated her so cruelly. She replied in the same language. “Congratulations on your marriage. I’m so happy that you’re England’s queen.”

“We’re going to be such friends.”

“I hope so—if they don’t imprison me again.”

“They won’t—not if I can help it.” Emma turned away and moved to her seat. She spoke a word of explanation to Ethelred, who nodded and smiled at Ragna.

That was a good start. Ragna was heartened by Emma’s friendliness, but recalled with trepidation the words not if I can help it. Clearly Emma was not sure she could control events. And she was young, perhaps too young to have learned the tricks Ragna knew.

Ethelred spoke in a loud voice, though even so he probably could not be heard by those on the outskirts of the crowd. “Our first and most important task is to choose a new ealdorman for Shiring.”

Aldred boldly interrupted. “My lord king, Ealdorman Wilwulf made a will.”

Bishop Wynstan called out: “Never ratified.”

Aldred said: “Wilwulf intended to show his will to you, my lord king, and to ask you to approve it—but before he could do so he was murdered in his bed right here in Shiring.”

Wynstan said scornfully: “Where is this will, then?”

“It was in the lady Ragna’s treasury, which was stolen minutes after Wilwulf died.”

“A nonexistent will, it seems.”

The crowd enjoyed this, a squabble between two men of God, right at the start of the court. But then Ragna spoke up. “On the contrary,” she said. “Several copies were made. Here is one, my lord king.” She took the folded parchment from the bosom of her dress and handed it to Ethelred.

He took it, but did not unroll it.

Wynstan said: “It doesn’t matter if a hundred copies were made—the will is invalid.”

Ragna said: “As you can see from the document, my lord king, it was my husband’s wish that you should make our eldest son, Osbert, ealdorman—”

“A child four years of age!” Wynstan jeered.

“—with me to rule as his representative until he comes of age.”

Ethelred said: “Enough!” He paused, and they all remained silent for a moment. Having asserted his power he went on: “In times such as these, the ealdorman must have the ability to muster an army and lead men into battle.”

The assembled noblemen nodded and murmured their agreement. Ragna realized that, much as they liked her, they did not believe in her as a military leader. She was not really surprised.

Wynstan said: “My brother, Wigelm, has recently proved his ability in this regard, by assembling an army to fight alongside you, my lord king, at Exeter.”

“He has,” said Ethelred.

The battle of Exeter had been lost, and the Vikings had looted the city and then gone home; but Ragna decided not to say that. She saw that she was going to lose this argument. Immediately after a Viking victory the king was not going to appoint a woman ealdorman to lead the men of Shiring. But that had always been a faint hope.

She had lost the first round. But she might yet gain from this decision, she told herself; perhaps Ethelred might now wish to balance the concession to Wigelm with one to her.

She had regained her ability to strategize, she realized. The torpor of prison was wearing off rapidly. She felt enlivened.

Aldred said: “My lord king, Wigelm and Wynstan have imprisoned the lady Ragna for almost a year, taken over her lands in the Vale of Outhen and stolen her income, and refused to return her dowry, to which she is entitled. I now ask you to protect this noble widow from her predatory in-laws.”

Ragna realized that Aldred was coming as close as he could to accusing Ethelred of failing in his duty to care for widows.

Ethelred looked at Wigelm. There was an undertone of anger in his voice as he said: “Is this true?”

But it was Wynstan who answered. “The lady Ragna sought solitude in which to mourn. We merely provided her with protection.”

“Nonsense!” said Ragna indignantly. “My door was barred on the outside! I was a prisoner.”

Wynstan said smoothly: “The door was barred so that the children could not wander out and get lost in the forest.”

It was a feeble excuse, but would Ethelred accept it?

The king did not hesitate. “Locking a woman in is not protection.”

He was not so easily fooled, Ragna saw.

Ethelred went on: “Before I confirm Wigelm as ealdorman, I will require both Wigelm and Wynstan to swear an oath not to imprison the lady Ragna.”

Ragna allowed herself a moment of sheer relief. She was free—for now, at least: oaths could be broken, of course.

Ethelred went on: “Now, what’s this about Outhen? I thought she had received that land as part of her marriage contract.”

“True,” said Wynstan. But my brother Wilwulf had no right to give it to her.”

Ragna said indignantly: “You negotiated the marriage contract with my father! How can you repudiate it now?”

Wynstan said smoothly: “It has belonged to my family since time immemorial.”

“No, it hasn’t,” said the king.

Everyone stared at him. This was a surprise intervention.

Ethelred went on: “My father gave it to your grandfather.”

Wynstan said: “There may be legends—”

“No legends,” said the king. “It was the first deed I witnessed.”

That was an unexpected piece of luck for Ragna.

Ethelred went on: “I was nine years old when I witnessed it. That’s not time immemorial, I’m only thirty-six now.” The noblemen laughed.

Wynstan looked sick—clearly he had not known the history of the land.

Ethelred said firmly: “The lady Ragna is to have the Vale of Outhen and all the income from it.”

Ragna said gratefully: “Thank you. And my dowry?”

Ethelred said: “A widow is entitled to the return of her dowry. How much was it?”

“Twenty pounds of silver.”

“Wigelm shall pay Ragna twenty pounds.”

Wigelm looked furious and said nothing.

Ethelred said: “Do it now, Wigelm. Go and fetch twenty pounds.”

Wigelm said: “I don’t think I have that much.”

“Then you’re not a very good ealdorman. Perhaps I should reconsider.”

“I’ll go and look.” Wigelm stormed off.

“Now,” Ethelred said to Ragna, “what is to be done about you and the child you’re carrying?”

“I have a request, my lord king. Please don’t make that decision today.” This was the approach Aldred had counseled, and Ragna had decided it was wise. But she added a further demand. “I would like to go to the convent on Leper Island, and give birth there, cared for by Mother Agatha and the nuns. I will leave tomorrow morning, if I gain your permission. Please, wait until the baby is born before you decide my future.” She held her breath.

Aldred spoke up again. “If I may say so, my lord king, any plan you make today may be overtaken by the unpredictable events of childbirth. Heaven forbid, but the child may not live. If it lives, the picture will change depending on whether it is a boy or a girl. Worst of all, the mother may not survive the ordeal. All these things are in God’s hands. Would it not make sense to wait and see?”

Ethelred did not need persuading. In fact he looked relieved not to have to make a decision. “So be it,” he said. “Let us reconsider the matter of the widow lady Ragna after her child is born. Sheriff Den is responsible for her safety as she travels to Dreng’s Ferry.”

Ragna had got everything she had reasonably hoped for. She could leave Shiring in the morning with enough money to make her independent. She would find blessed sanctuary with the nuns. She would put things right with Edgar. They would make a plan.

It had not escaped her attention that the king had not responded to Aldred’s accusation of kidnapping. And no one had mentioned rape. But she had expected that. Ethelred could not make Wigelm ealdorman and then convict him of rape. So the charge had been conveniently forgotten. However, the king’s other decisions came as such a relief to her that she was willing to accept the whole package gratefully.

Wigelm came back, followed by Cnebba carrying a small chest. He set it in front of Ethelred.

“Open it,” said the king.

It contained several leather bags of coins.

Ethelred pointed to the scale on the side table. “Weigh the coins.”

Ragna felt a sudden sharp jab in her abdomen. She froze. There was something familiar about the pain. She had felt it before, and she knew what it meant.

The baby was coming.

Ragna called the baby Alain. She wanted a French name, for an English name would have reminded her of the English father. And it was similar to the word for “handsome” in the Celtic language of the Breton people.

Alain was handsome. Every baby was lovely to its mother, but this was Ragna’s fourth child and she thought she was capable of being somewhat objective. Alain was a healthy pink color, with a head of dark hair and large blue eyes that looked out with a baffled expression, as if puzzled that the world should be such a strange place.

He cried hard when hungry, drank his fill rapidly from Ragna’s breasts, and fell asleep immediately afterward, as if following a timetable that he considered perfectly sensible. Remembering how Osbert, her first, had seemed so unpredictable and incomprehensible, she wondered whether the children really were so dissimilar. Perhaps it was she who was different, more relaxed and confident now.

The birth had not been easy, but it had been a little less painful and exhausting than previously, for which she was grateful. Alain’s only mistake so far had been to arrive early. Ragna had not had the chance to go to Dreng’s Ferry for her confinement. However, she now planned to go there to recuperate, and Den had told her that King Ethelred had agreed to that.

Cat was as pleased as if she had given birth herself. The children stared at Alain, with curiosity and a touch of resentment, as if unsure whether there was space in the family for another one.

A less welcome admirer was Gytha, mother to Wynstan and Wigelm. She came to Ragna’s house and cooed over the baby, and Ragna did not feel she could forbid her to pick him up: she was his grandmother, and the fact that he was the result of a rape did not change that.

All the same Ragna was uncomfortable when she saw Alain in Gytha’s arms. She felt uneasily that Gytha was assuming some kind of ownership. “The newest member of our family,” Gytha said, “and so handsome!”

“It’s time for his feeding,” Ragna said, and took him back. Ragna put the baby to her breast and he began to suck enthusiastically. She had thought Gytha might leave, but instead she sat down and watched, as if to make sure Ragna was doing it right. When he paused, he puked a little of the milk, and—to Ragna’s surprise—Gytha leaned over and wiped his chin with the sleeve of her costly wool gown. It was a gesture of genuine affection.

Ragna still did not trust Gytha, all the same.

A few minutes later one of Ragna’s bodyguards put his head around the door and said: “Will you see Ealdorman Wigelm?”

He was the last person on earth Ragna wanted to see. However, she thought she had better find out what he was up to. She said: “He may come in, but alone—no sidekicks. And you stay with me while he’s here.”

Gytha heard all this and her face hardened.

Wigelm entered looking offended. “You see, mother?” he said to Gytha. “I have to be questioned by a guard before I can see my own son!” He stared at Ragna’s uncovered breast.

She said: “Consider how much of a fool I would have to be to trust you.” She took Alain off her nipple, but he had not had enough and he cried, so she had to put him back, and suffer Wigelm’s gawking.

He said: “I’m the ealdorman!”

“You’re the rapist.”

Gytha made a disapproving noise, as if Ragna had said something discourteous. It wasn’t half as discourteous as what your son did to me, Ragna thought. It was odd, she reflected, that someone who had failed to condemn the rape would disapprove audibly of the mention of it.

Wigelm seemed about to continue, then changed his mind and choked back his retort. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t come here for an argument.”

“So why did you come?”

He looked uneasy. He sat down, then stood up again. “To talk about the future,” he said vaguely.

What was bugging him? Ragna guessed that he was simply unable to get to grips with politics at the royal level. He understood bullying and coercion, but the king’s need to balance conflicting pressures was beyond Wigelm’s intellect. It was best to speak simply to him. She said: “My future has nothing to do with you.”

Wigelm scratched his head, loosened his belt then tightened it, rubbed his chin, and at last said: “I want to marry you.”

Ragna felt cold dread in her heart. “Never,” she said. “Please don’t even mention it.”

“But I love you.”

That was so obviously untrue that she almost laughed. “You don’t even know what that means.”

“Everything will be different, I swear.”

“So . . .” She looked at Gytha then back at Wigelm. “So you won’t have your men-at-arms hold me down while you fuck me?”

Gytha made the disapproving noise again.

“Of course I won’t,” Wigelm said in a tone of indignation, as if he would never dream of such a thing.

“That’s the kind of promise a woman longs to hear.”

Gytha said: “Don’t you want to be part of our family?”

Ragna stared at her in astonishment. “No!”

“Why not?”

“How can you even ask me that question?”

Wigelm said: “Why do you have to be so sarcastic?”

Ragna took a breath. “Because I don’t love you, you don’t love me, and talk of us getting married is so ludicrous that I can’t even pretend to take you seriously.”

Wigelm frowned, figuring out what she meant: he was not quick to grasp long sentences, she had noticed. Eventually he said: “So that’s your answer.”

“My answer is no.”

Gytha stood up. “We tried,” she said.

Then she and Wigelm left.

Ragna frowned. That was an unexpected exit line.

Alain was asleep at Ragna’s breast. She put him in his cradle and refastened the front of her dress. The material was milk-stained, but she did not worry: at this point it suited her not to be too alluring.

She puzzled over the words We tried. Why had Gytha said that? It sounded like a veiled threat, as if she was saying Don’t blame us for what will happen next. But what could happen next?

She did not know, and it troubled her.

Wynstan and Gytha went to see King Ethelred, who was living in the great hall. Wynstan did not feel his usual self-confidence. The king was not predictable. Wynstan could normally foresee his neighbors’ responses to problems: it was not difficult to figure out what they were going to do in order to get what they wanted. But the king’s challenges were much more complex.

He touched his pectoral cross in the hope of divine assistance.

When they entered the great hall, Ethelred was deep in conversation with one of his clerks. Queen Emma was not present. Ethelred held up a hand to tell Wynstan and Gytha to wait. They stood a few paces away while the king finished his conversation. Then the clerk left and Ethelred beckoned.

Wynstan began: “The child of my brother Wigelm and the lady Ragna is a healthy boy who seems likely to live, my lord king.”

“Good!” said Ethelred.

“It is indeed good news, though it threatens to destabilize the ealdormanry of Shiring.”

“How so?”

“First, you have given Ragna permission to go to the nunnery at Dreng’s Ferry. There, of course, she will be away from the influence of the ealdorman. Second, she has the ealdorman’s only child. Third, even if the baby should die, Ragna also has Wilwulf’s three young sons.”

“I see what you’re getting at,” said the king. “You think she could easily become the figurehead of a rebellion against Wigelm. People might say that her children were the true heirs.”

Wynstan was pleased that the king saw the point so quickly. “Yes, my lord king.”

“And do you propose a course of action?”

“There is only one. Ragna must marry Wigelm. Then Wigelm has no rivals.”

“Of course, that would resolve the issue,” said Ethelred. “But I’m not going to do it.”

Wynstan burst out: “Why on earth not?”

“First, because she has set her face against it. She might well refuse to take the vows.”

“You may leave it to me to deal with that,” Wynstan said. He knew how to make people do what they did not want to do.

Ethelred looked disapproving, but did not comment. Instead he said: “Second, because I have promised my wife that I will not force the marriage.”

Wynstan gave a man-to-man chuckle. “My lord king, a promise to a woman . . .”

“You don’t know much about marriage, do you, bishop?”

Wynstan bowed his head. “Of course not, my lord king.”

“I’m not willing to break my promise to my wife.”

“I understand.”

“Go away and think of a different solution.” Ethelred turned away dismissively.

Wynstan and Gytha bowed and left the house.

As soon as they were out of earshot Wynstan said: “So one troublemaking Norman bitch supports the other!”

Gytha said nothing. Wynstan glanced at his mother. She was deep in thought.

They went to Gytha’s house, and she poured a cup of wine for him.

He took a long draught and said. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“I have a suggestion,” said Gytha.

Wynstan came to Ragna’s house and said: “We need to have a serious talk.”

She looked at him with suspicion. He wanted something, of course. “Don’t ask me to marry your brother,” she said.

“I don’t think you understand your situation.”

He was his usual arrogant self, except that he touched his pectoral cross. She thought that was a sign of a hidden lack of confidence, which was unusual in Wynstan. She said: “Enlighten me.”

“You can leave here any time you like.”

“The king said so.”

“And you can take Wilwulf’s children.”

It took a moment for her to see the implication, but when she did she was horrified. “I will take all my children!” she said. “Including Alain.”

“You’re not being offered that option.” Wynstan touched the cross again. “You can leave Shiring, but you can’t take the ealdorman’s only son with you.”

“He’s my baby!”

“He is, and naturally you want to raise him yourself. That’s why you have to marry Wigelm.”

“Never.”

“Then you must leave your baby here. There is no third choice.”

A cold weight settled in the pit of Ragna’s stomach. Involuntarily she looked over at the cradle, as if to make sure Alain was still there. He was sleeping soundly.

Wynstan put on a treacly voice. “He’s a beautiful baby. Even I can see that.”

There was something so malign in the insincere compliment that Ragna felt nauseated.

“I have to raise him,” Ragna said. “I’m his mother.”

“There’s no shortage of mothers. Gytha, my own mother, is longing to take charge of her first grandchild.”

That infuriated Ragna. “So that she can raise him the way she raised you and Wigelm?” she said. “To be cruel and selfish and violent!”

To her surprise, Wynstan stood up. “Take your time,” he said. “Think about it. Let us know your decision in due course.” He went out.

Ragna knew she had to resist immediately and fiercely. “Cat,” she said. “Please go and ask if Queen Emma can see me as soon as possible.”

Cat left, and Ragna brooded. Had she been granted a false liberation? To be allowed to go only if she left her baby behind was no freedom at all. Surely Ethelred could not have meant that?

Ragna expected Cat to come back with a message saying when she could see Queen Emma, but when Cat returned she said breathlessly: “My lady, the queen is here.”

Emma walked in.

Ragna stood up and bowed, then Emma kissed her.

“I’ve just seen Bishop Wynstan,” Ragna said. “He says that if I don’t marry Wigelm they will take my baby from me.”

“Yes,” said Emma. “Gytha explained that to me.”

Ragna frowned. Gytha must have gone to see Emma at the same time as Wynstan spoke to Ragna. This was planned and coordinated. Ragna said: “Does the king know?”

“Yes,” Emma said again.

Emma’s face frightened Ragna. She looked worried, but not horrified or even shocked. What her face showed was pity. That was scary.

Ragna felt that she was losing control of her life again. “But the king freed me. What does that mean?”

“It means that you cannot be imprisoned, and the king will not force you to marry a man you loathe; but also you cannot take away the ealdorman’s son. His only son, I believe.”

“But then I’m not free after all!”

“You face a hard choice. I didn’t foresee this.” The queen went to the door. “I’m very sorry.” She left.

Ragna felt as if she were in a nightmare. For a moment she considered taking the first option, abandoning her child to be raised by Gytha. Anything to avoid marriage to the loathsome Wigelm. And after all, Alain was the product of a rape. But as soon as she looked at him, lying in his cot sleeping peacefully, she knew she could not do it, not if they made her marry five Wigelms.

Edgar walked in. She recognized him through her tears. She stood up, and he enfolded her in his arms. “Is it true?” he said to Ragna. “Everyone says you have to marry Wigelm or give up Alain!”

“It’s true,” Ragna said. Her tears soaked into the wool of his tunic.

“What are you going to do?” said Edgar.

Ragna did not answer.

“What are you going to do?” he repeated.

“I’m going to leave my baby,” she said.

“No, no, this won’t do!” Wynstan said angrily.

“It’s happening,” said Wigelm. “Edgar is helping her pack all her possessions. She’s going to leave the baby behind.”

“She will still have Wilwulf’s three young sons. People will say they are the genuine heirs. We’re hardly better off.”

Wigelm said: “We have to kill her. It’s the only way to be rid of her.”

They were at their mother’s house, and now she interrupted them. “You can’t kill Ragna,” Gytha said. “Not right under the nose of the king. He couldn’t let you get away with it.”

“We could put the blame on someone else.”

Gytha shook her head. “Nobody really believed that last time. They won’t even pretend to believe a second time.”

Wigelm said: “We’ll do it when the king’s gone.”

Wynstan said: “Idiot, Ragna will be safely ensconced in the nunnery on Leper Island by then.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Gytha said: “We’re all going to calm down.”

“What good is that?” said Wigelm.

“You’ll see. Just wait.”

That night Edgar and Ragna slept together in her house. They lay on the rushes, in each other’s arms, but they did not make love: they were much too distressed. Edgar took consolation from holding Ragna. She pressed her body to his in a way that seemed loving but also desperate.

She fed the baby twice in the night. Edgar dozed but he suspected that Ragna did not sleep at all. They got up as soon as it was light.

Edgar went into the town center and rented two carts for the journey. He had them brought into the compound and stationed outside Ragna’s house. While the children were given breakfast, he loaded most of the baggage on one cart. He put all the cushions and blankets on the other, for the women and children to sit on. He saddled Buttress and put Astrid on a leading rein.

He was getting what he had longed for over many years, but he could not rejoice. He thought Ragna might eventually get over the loss of Alain, but he feared it could take a long time.

They all had their traveling clothes and shoes on. Gilda and Winthryth were coming with them, as well as Cat and the bodyguards. They all walked out of the house, Ragna carrying Alain.

Gytha was waiting to take him.

The servants and children climbed onto the cart.

Everyone looked at Ragna.

She walked up to Gytha, and Edgar walked by her side. Ragna hesitated. She looked at Edgar, then at Gytha, then at the baby in her arms. Tears were streaming down her face. She turned away from Gytha, then turned back. Gytha reached for Alain, but Ragna did not let her take him. She stood between the two of them for a long moment.

Then she said to Gytha: “I can’t do it.”

She turned to Edgar and said: “I’m sorry.”

Then, holding Alain tightly to her chest, she walked back into her house.

The wedding was huge. People came from all over southern England. A major dynastic conflict had been settled, and everyone wanted to make friends with the winning side.

Wynstan looked around the great hall with a feeling of profound satisfaction. The trestle table was loaded with the products of a warm summer and a fine harvest: great joints of meat, loaves of new bread, pyramids of nuts and fruit, and jugs of ale and wine.

People were falling over one another to show deference to Ealdorman Wigelm and his family. Wigelm was seated next to Queen Emma, and looked smug. As a ruler he would be uninspired but brutally firm, and with Wynstan’s guidance he would make the right decisions.

And now he was married to Ragna. Wigelm had never really liked her, Wynstan felt sure, but he desired her in the way a man sometimes craved a woman just because she rejected him. They were going to be miserable together.

Ragna, the only threat to Wynstan’s dominance, had been crushed. She sat at the top table next to the king, with her baby in her arms, looking as if she would like to commit suicide.

The king seemed satisfied with his visit to Shiring. Looking at it from the royal point of view, Wynstan guessed that Ethelred was glad to have appointed the new ealdorman and disposed of the old one’s widow, righted the wrong of Ragna’s imprisonment but prevented her from running off with the ealdorman’s baby, and all without bloodshed.

There was little sign of the Ragna faction. Sheriff Den was here, looking as if he had detected a bad smell, but Aldred had gone back to his little priory, and Edgar had vanished. He might have gone back to manage Ragna’s quarry at Outhenham, but would he have wanted to, now that the love of his life had married someone else? Wynstan did not know and really did not care.

There was even a good piece of medical news. The sore on Wynstan’s penis had gone. He had been frightened, especially when the whores said it could lead to leprosy, but that had evidently been a false alarm, and he was back to normal.

My brother is the ealdorman and I’m the bishop, Wynstan thought proudly. And neither of us is yet forty years old.

We’ve only just begun.

Edgar and Aldred stood at the waterside and looked back at the hamlet. The Michaelmas Fair was on. Hundreds of people were crossing the bridge, shopping at the market, and queueing to see the bones of the saint. They were talking and laughing, happy to spend what little money they had.

“The place is thriving,” Edgar said.

“I’m very pleased,” said Aldred, but there were tears on his face.

Edgar was both embarrassed and moved. He had known for years that Aldred was in love with him, though it had never been said.

Edgar looked the other way. His raft was tied up at the riverbank downstream of the bridge. Buttress, his pony, stood on it. Also on the raft were his Viking ax, all his tools, and a chest containing a few precious possessions, including the book Ragna had given him. Missing was Brindle, his dog, who had died of old age.

That had been the last straw. He had been contemplating leaving Dreng’s Ferry, and the death of Brindle had finally made up his mind.

Aldred wiped his eyes on his sleeve and said: “Must you go?”

“Yes.”

“But Normandy is so far.”

Edgar planned to pole his raft downriver to Combe and there get a ship to Cherbourg. He would see Count Hubert and tell him the news of Ragna’s marriage to Wigelm. In return he would ask the count to direct him to a large building site. He had heard that a good craftsman could easily get work in Normandy.

He said: “I want to be as far away as possible from Wigelm and Wynstan and Shiring—and Ragna.”

Edgar had not seen Ragna since the wedding. He had tried but had been turned away by servants. In any case he did not know what he would have said to her. She had been given a hard choice and she had put her child first, something most women would have done. Edgar was heartbroken, but he could not blame her.

Aldred said: “Ragna is not the only person who loves you.”

“I’m fond of you,” said Edgar. “But, as you know, not that way.”

“Which is all that saves me from sin.”

“I know.”

Aldred took Edgar’s hand and kissed it.

Edgar said: “Dreng should sell the ferryboat. Ragna might buy it for Outhenham. They have no boat there.”

“I’ll suggest that.”

Edgar had said his farewells to his family and the villagers. There was nothing more for him to do here.

He untied the raft, stepped aboard, and pushed away from the bank.

Gathering speed, he passed the family farm. At his suggestion, Erman and Eadbald were building a water mill, copying one they had seen farther downstream. They were good enough craftsmen; their father had taught them well. They were prosperous, important men in the town. They waved to him as he passed, and he noticed they were both becoming rather stout. Edgar waved back. He was going to miss Wynswith and Beorn, his niece and nephew.

The vessel gathered speed. Normandy would be warmer and drier than England, he guessed, as it was to the south. He thought of the few French words he had picked up from listening to Ragna talk to Cat. He knew some Latin, too, from his lessons with Aldred. He would get by.

It would be a new life.

He took one last glance back. His bridge dominated the view. It had changed the hamlet dramatically. Most people no longer referred to the place by its old name of Dreng’s Ferry.

Nowadays they called it King’s Bridge.