Page 310 of The Evening and the Morning

Hubert snorted, as if he considered that a feeble excuse.

Edgar said: “I’m terribly sorry this has been done to her by my countrymen.”

But he was lying.

CHAPTER 41

September 1006

agna rebuilt her life, making her days busy so that she would not brood over the loss of both Edgar and Alain. At Michaelmas she went to Outhenham in her new barge to collect her rents.

The barge needed two strong oarsmen. Ragna took her horse, Astrid, with her so that she could ride all the way along the Vale of Outhen. She also took a new maid, Osgyth, and a young man-at-arms, a black-haired boy called Ceolwulf, both of them from King’s Bridge. They fell for each other on the journey, teasing and giggling on the barge when they thought Ragna was not looking; so both were somewhat distracted from their duties. Ragna was inclined to be indulgent: she knew what it was to be in love. She hoped that Osgyth and Ceolwulf never learned what she knew about the misery that love could bring.

Her new great hall at Outhenham was not yet finished, but Edgar’s old house in the quarry was empty, so she lodged there with Osgyth and Ceolwulf. She liked it for sentimental reasons. The only other house in the quarry belonged to Gab.

The oarsmen stayed at the alehouse.

She held court, but there was not much justice needed. This was a happy time of year, with the harvest in the barns, bellies full of bread, and red-cheeked apples lying on the ground to be picked up; and this year the Vikings had not come this far west to spoil everything. When people were happy they were slow to quarrel and committed fewer crimes. It was in the miserable depths of winter that men strangled their wives and knifed their rivals, and it was in the hungry spring that women stole from their neighbors to feed their children.

She was pleased to see that Edgar’s canal was still in good condition, its edges straight and its banks sturdy. However, she was annoyed that the villagers had got into the lazy habit of throwing rubbish into the water. There was no through flow, so the canal did not clean itself the way a river did, and in places it smelled like a privy. She instituted a strict rule.

To enforce this and any other edicts, she dismissed Dudda and appointed a new headman, one of the elders of the village, the roly-poly alehouse keeper Eanfrid. A taverner was usually a good choice for headman: his house was already the center of village life and he himself was often a figure of unofficial authority. Eanfrid was also good humored and well liked.

Sitting outside the alehouse with a cup of cider she talked to Eanfrid about her income from the quarry, which had fallen since Edgar left. “Edgar is just one of those people who does everything well,” said Eanfrid. “Find us another one like him and we’ll sell more stone.”

“There isn’t another one like Edgar,” said Ragna with a sad smile.

They went on to discuss a murrain that had killed a number ofsheep, and which Ragna thought was caused by grazing them on wet clay soil; but their conversation was interrupted. Eanfrid cocked his head, and a moment later Ragna heard what had caught his attention: the sound of thirty or more horses approaching, not cantering or even trotting but walking with weary steps. It was the noise made by a wealthy nobleman and his entourage on a long journey.

The autumn sun was red in the west: the visitors would undoubtedly decide to stay the night at Outhenham. The village would welcome them with mixed feelings. Travelers brought silver: they would buy food and drink, and pay for accommodation. But they might also get drunk and pester girls and start fights.

Ragna and Eanfrid stood up. A minute later the horsemen appeared, winding through the houses to the center of the village.

At their head was Wigelm.

Ragna was possessed by fear. This was the man who had imprisoned her, raped her, and stolen her child. What new torture had he devised for her? She controlled her trembling. She had always stood up to him. She would do so again.

Riding beside Wigelm was his nephew, Garulf, the son of Wilwulf and Inge. He was twenty-five now, but Ragna knew that he was no wiser than he had been as an adolescent. He looked like Wilf, with the fair beard and broad-shouldered swagger of the family men. She winced to think she had married two of them.

Eanfrid murmured: “What does Wigelm want here?”

“Only God knows,” Ragna replied in a shaky voice, then she added: “And maybe Satan.”

Wigelm reined in his dusty horse. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Ragna,” he said.

She was somewhat relieved. His remark indicated that he had notplanned this meeting. Any evil he tried to do her would be improvised. “I don’t know why you’d be surprised,” she said. “I’m lord of the Vale of Outhen. What do you want here?”

“I’m ealdorman of Shiring, I’m traveling in my territory, and I intend to spend the night here.”

“Outhenham welcomes you, Ealdorman Wigelm,” Ragna said with cold formality. “Please enter the alehouse and take refreshment.”

He remained on his horse. “Your father complained to King Ethelred,” he said.

“Of course he did.” She got some of her nerve back. “Your behavior has been disgraceful.”

“Ethelred fined me one hundred pounds of silver for setting you aside without his permission.”

“Good.”