Page 138 of The Evening and the Morning

There were seven sticks, and only one of them bore five notches. She picked it up as if at random. “So, Gab, to which buyer does this stick refer?”

“That would be Dreng the ferryman.” Gab’s voice was hoarse, no doubt from breathing stone dust.

As if seeking to understand the system, Ragna said: “So Dreng bought five stones from you.”

“Yes, my lady.” Gab looked uneasy, as if wondering where this was leading. He added: “And I owe you the price of one of them.”

She turned to Dudda. “Is that right?”

He looked anxious, as if fearing a surprise but unable to figure out what it might be. “Yes, my lady.”

“Dreng’s builder is here with me today,” Ragna said.

She heard two or three startled exclamations, quickly supressed, and she guessed that some villagers must have known about Gab’s fraud. Gab himself suddenly looked sick, and Dudda’s red face paled.

Ragna said: “Come forward, Edgar.”

Edgar emerged from the middle of the group of men-at-arms and servants, and came to stand beside Ragna. Dudda directed a look of hatred at him.

Ragna said: “How many stones did you buy from my quarry, Edgar?”

Gab said quickly: “It was five, wasn’t it, young man?”

Edgar said: “No. Five stones isn’t enough to tile the roof of a brewhouse. I bought ten.”

Gab was panicking now. “An innocent mistake, then, my lady, I swear it.”

Ragna made her voice cold. “There are no innocent mistakes.”

“But my lady—”

“Be silent.” Ragna would have liked to get rid of Gab, but she needed a quarryman and did not have a replacement ready. She decided to make a virtue of necessity. “I’m not going to punish you,” she said. “I’m going to say to you what our Lord said to the adulteress: Go thy way, and sin no more.”

The crowd was surprised at that, but they seemed to approve. Ragna hoped she had shown herself to be a ruler who could not be fooled but might be merciful.

She turned to Dudda. “However, I don’t forgive you. Your duty was to make sure your lord was not cheated, and you failed. You are no longer headman.”

Once again she listened to the crowd. They sounded shocked, but she heard no note of protest, and she concluded that they did not much regret the dismissal of Dudda.

“Let Seric step forward.”

A man of about fifty with an alert look came out of the crowd and bowed to her.

She looked at the villagers and said: “I’m told that Seric is an honest man.”

She had not asked them a question—that might have given the impression that the choice was theirs. But she paid attention to their reactions. Several people made approving noises, and others nodded assent. Edgar’s instinct about Seric had been right, it seemed.

“Seric, you are now headman.”

“Thank you, my lady,” said Seric. “I will be honest and true.”

“Good.” She looked at Wynstan’s assistant. “Ithamar, you are no longer required. Father Draca, you can take his place.”

Draca looked nervous, but he sat at the table, and Seric stood beside him.

Wynstan stalked off, and his men began to hurry after him.

Ragna looked around. The villagers were quiet, watching her, waiting to see what she would do next. She had their rapt attention, and they were ready to do her bidding. She had taken leadership. She was satisfied.