Page 285 of The Evening and the Morning

Treasurer Sigefryth was the most senior monk under the archbishop, and Wynstan needed to get him on his side.

“He has the timber house just outside the west end of the church,” Degbert said.

They walked down the nave and passed through the great west doorway. Wynstan pulled his hood over his head to keep the rain off. They hurried across the muddy ground to the nearest building.

The treasurer was a small man with a large bald head. He greetedWynstan warily but without fear. Wynstan said: “There’s no change in the condition of our beloved archbishop.”

Sigefryth said: “Perhaps we may be blessed with his presence a little longer.”

“Not much, sadly,” Wynstan said. “I think the monks here are thankful to God that you are here, Sigefryth, to watch over the affairs of Canterbury.”

Sigefryth acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

Wynstan smiled and spoke in a light tone. “I always think a treasurer has an impossible job.”

Sigefryth looked intrigued. “How so?”

“He is supposed to make sure there is always enough money, but he has no control over the spending of it!”

Sigefryth at last permitted himself a smile. “That is true.”

Wynstan went on: “I think an abbot—or prior, or whoever fulfills the role—should consult the treasurer about expenditure, not just about income.”

“It would prevent a lot of problems,” Sigefryth said.

That was enough, Wynstan thought again. He needed to ingratiate himself, but in a way that was not too obvious. Now to deal with Wigferth. “This year of all years a treasurer has reason to look anxious.” There had been a poor harvest, and people had starved.

“Dead men pay no rent.”

An unsentimental man, Wynstan thought. I like that. He said: “And the bad weather is continuing. There’s flooding all over southern England. On my way here I kept having to make long diversions.” This was much exaggerated. There had been heavy rain, but it had not delayed him more than a few days.

Sigefryth tutted sympathetically.

“And it seems to be getting worse. I hope you’re not planning a journey.”

“Not for a while. We’ll have rents to collect at Christmas, from those of our tenants who are still alive. I’ll be sending Brother Wigferth to your neighborhood.”

“If you want Wigferth to get there by Christmas, send him soon,” said Wynstan. “It’s going to take him a long time.”

“I’ll do that,” said Sigefryth. “Thank you for the warning.”

So gullible, Wynstan thought with satisfaction.

Wigferth left the next day.

Ragna’s sons were having a snowball fight. The twins, four years old, were ganging up on Osbert, who was six. Alain, two years old and toddling, was screaming with laughter.

Ragna’s small household watched with her: Cat, Gilda, Winthryth, and Grimweald, the bodyguard. Grimweald was no use: as one of Wigelm’s men-at-arms, he probably would not protect Ragna from the person most likely to attack her.

However, this was a happy moment. All four boys were in good health. Osbert was already learning to read and write. This was not the life Ragna had wanted, and she yearned for Edgar still, but she had things to be thankful for.

When Wigelm became ealdorman he no longer wanted to be bothered with the detailed administration of Combe, so Ragna deputized, and in practice she was reeve of Combe and of Outhen; although Wigelm still visited and held court.

Wigelm appeared now, accompanied by a young concubine, Meganthryth. They stood beside Ragna, watching the boys play.Ragna did not speak to Wigelm or even look at him. Her loathing of him had only deepened in the two years they had been husband and wife. He was both cruel and stupid.

Fortunately she did not have to be with him much. Most nights he got drunk and was carried to bed. When sober enough he spent the night with Meganthryth, who nevertheless had borne him no children. Occasionally the old desire overcame him and he visited Ragna. She did not resist him, but closed her eyes and thought about something else until he had finished. Wigelm enjoyed sex against the woman’s will, but he disliked indifference, and Ragna’s apparent apathy helped to discourage him.

Osbert threw a large snowball wildly and it hit Alain full in the face. The little boy was shocked, and he burst into tears and ran to Ragna. She wiped his cheeks with her sleeve and comforted him.