Page 103 of The Evening and the Morning

“He was fined by the king. But he hasn’t paid the fine. He thinks Ethelred is being unreasonable.”

“What will happen?”

“Nothing much, in the short term. If a nobleman boldly defies the royal court, there’s not much a king can do immediately. In the long run, who knows?”

“Is there anyone who acts as a counterbalance to the family’s power? Any post Wilf was unable to fill with his own appointee?”

It was the key question, and Ragna went up in Aldred’s estimation for asking it. She had learned everything her father had to teach her, Aldred guessed, and perhaps she had even added wisdom of her own. “Yes,” he said. “The sheriff, Denewald.”

“Sheriff? We don’t have such a thing in Normandy.”

“He’s the shire reeve, the king’s representative in the locality. Wilwulf wanted Wigelm to have the job, but King Ethelred refused and put in his own man. They may call him Ethelred the Misled, but he’s not completely stupid.”

“Is it an important role?”

“Sheriffs have recently grown more powerful.”

“How come?”

“It has to do with the Vikings. Twice in the last six years Ethelred has bought off a Viking invasion with a cash payment—but it’s hugely expensive. Six years ago he paid ten thousand pounds; three years ago it was sixteen thousand.”

“We heard about that in Normandy. My father said it was like feeding a lion in the hope that it would stop him eating you.”

“Many people here said something similar.”

“But how did it make sheriffs powerful?”

“They had to collect the money. That meant they had to have thepower of enforcement. A sheriff now has his own military force, small but well paid and well armed.”

“And that makes him a countervailing power to Wilf.”

“Exactly.”

“Doesn’t the sheriff’s role clash with that of the ealdorman?”

“All the time. The ealdorman is responsible for justice, but the sheriff must deal with offenses against the king, which include not paying tax. Obviously there are borderline cases that cause friction.”

“How interesting.”

She was like a musician putting her fingers on the strings of a lyre, Aldred thought, trying it out before playing it. She was going to be a force in the region. She might do a lot of good. On the other hand, she might be destroyed.

If Aldred could help her he would. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” he said. “Come to the abbey.” It occurred to him that the sight of a woman like Ragna might be more than some of the young monks could bear. “Or just send a message.”

“Thank you.”

As he turned to the door, his eye was again caught by the large frame and busted nose of Offa. As a minor servant of the ealdorman, the reeve had a house in the town, but as far as Aldred knew he had no business with Ragna.

She saw his glance and said: “Do you know Offa, the reeve of Mudeford?”

“Yes, of course.” Aldred saw Ragna glance at Agnes, who dropped her eyes shyly, and he saw immediately that Offa was there to court Agnes, evidently with Ragna’s approval. Perhaps Ragna was keen for some of her servants to put down roots in England.

He took his leave and walked out of the compound. In the centerof the town, crossing the square between the cathedral and the abbey church, he ran into Wigferth emerging from the bishop’s residence. “Did you deliver the letter to Wynstan?” he said.

“Yes, a few moments ago.”

“Did he boil over?”

“He took the letter and said he would read it later.”