“Wigelm.” She lifted her head at last. “His men held me down.” Defiance showed in her face. “Many times.”
Edgar felt as if he had been knocked over. He could hardly breathe. No wonder she was in the depths of despair. It was a miracle she had not gone mad.
When he recovered his voice, he did not know what to say. Eventually he managed: “I love you.”
His words made no impression.
She seemed numb, stunned, like one barely conscious, a sleepwalker. What could he do? He wanted to comfort her, but nothing he said seemed to register. He would have touched her, but when he lifted his hands she backed away. He might have overcome her resistance and embraced her regardless, but he sensed that would just remind her of what Wigelm had done. He was helpless.
She said: “I want you to go.”
“I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Then go.”
“I love you.”
“Please go.”
“I’m going.” He went to the door. “We’ll be together one day. I know it.”
She said nothing. He thought he saw the glint of tears in her eyes, but the room was dark and it might have been wishful thinking.
“Say good-bye to me, at least,” he said.
“Good-bye.”
He knocked at the door and it was opened immediately.
“Au revoir,” he said. “I’ll see you again soon.”
She turned her back, and Edgar walked out.
* * *
Ragna left the hunting lodge the next day with Cat and the children. They rode on the same cart that had brought them. They departed early and arrived as darkness was falling. The two women were tired and the children were cranky, and they all went to sleep as soon as they got into the house.
Next morning Cat borrowed a big iron pot from the kitchen and they heated water on the fire. They washed the children from head to toe, then themselves. After putting on clean clothes, Ragna began to feel less like penned livestock and more like a human being.
Gilda the kitchen maid appeared with a loaf of bread, fresh butter, eggs, and salt, and they all fell on the food as if starving.
Ragna needed to rebuild her household, and she decided to start with Gilda. “Would you like to come and work for me?” she said as Gilda was leaving. “And your daughter, Winthryth, too, perhaps?”
Gilda smiled. “Yes, please, my lady.”
“I haven’t any money to pay you now, but I will soon.” Before too long a courier would arrive from Normandy.
“That’s all right, my lady.”
“I’ll speak to the kitchenmaster later. Don’t say anything to anyone for the moment.”
All Ragna’s possessions seemed to be here. Her robes were on pegs around the walls, and looked as if they had been aired. Most of the chests seemed to be here, with her brushes and combs, scented oils, belts and shoes, and even her jewelry. Only her money was missing.
She was going to see the kitchenmaster, a mere servant, but she needed to assert her authority right from the start. She put on a silk dress in a rich dark brown color and tied a gold-colored sash around her middle. She chose a tall pointed hat. She picked out a jeweled headband to secure the hat, and added a pendant and an arm ring.
She walked across the compound with her head held high.
Everyone was interested to see her and curious about how she looked. She met the eyes of each person she passed, determined not to appear cowed by her ill-treatment. People were at first unsure how to react, then they decided to play it safe and bow to her. She spoke to several and they responded warmly. She guessed they might look back nostalgically to the times when Wilwulf and Ragna ruled the compound: it was unlikely that Wigelm had been equally congenial.
The kitchenmaster was called Bassa. She walked up to him and said: “Good morning to you, Bassa.”
He looked startled. “Good morning,” he said, then after a brief hesitation, he added: “My lady.”
“Gilda and Winthryth are coming to work at my house,” she said in a tone that did not invite discussion.
Bassa was uncertain, but just said: “Very good, my lady.” People never got in trouble for saying that.
“They can begin tomorrow morning,” Ragna said in a softer voice. “That will give you time to make other arrangements.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Ragna left the kitchen, feeling better. She was behaving like a powerful noblewoman, and people were treating her as such.
As she returned to her house, Sheriff Den appeared, followed by two of his men. “You need bodyguards,” he said.
It was true. After the death of Bern had left her unprotected, it had been easy for Wigelm to kidnap her quietly in the middle of the night. She wanted never to be so vulnerable again.
Den said: “I’m lending you Cadwal and Dudoc until you’re able to hire your own.”
“Thank you.” Ragna was struck by a thought. “Where will I find bodyguards for hire, I wonder?”
“This autumn there will be a lot of soldiers returning from the Viking war. Most will go back to their farms and workshops, but some will be looking for employment, and they will have had the kind of experience a bodyguard needs.”
“Good point.”
“You may need to equip them with decent weapons. And I’d recommend heavyweight leather jerkins. They will keep the men warm in winter and give some protection, too.”
“As soon as I get some money.”
It was another week before money arrived. It came with Prior Aldred, who had been looking after the cash brought every three months by Odo and Adelaide.
He also brought a folded sheet of parchment. It was a copy, made in his scriptorium, of Wilwulf’s will. “This may help you when you see King Ethelred,” he said.
“Do I need help? I’m going to accuse Wigelm of kidnap and rape. Both crimes were witnessed by my maid Cat.” She put her hand on her belly. “And if further proof were needed, there’s this.”
“And that would be sufficient, if we lived in a world that was ruled by laws.” Aldred sat on a stool, leaned forward, and spoke quietly. “But the man matters more than the law, as you know.”
“Surely King Ethelred must be mortally offended by what Wigelm has done.”
“True. And he could turn his army on Shiring and arrest Wigelm and Wynstan. Goodness knows, they’ve done enough to deserve that. But the king has his hands full battling the Vikings, and he may feel this is the wrong time to fight English noblemen who are his allies.”
“Are you telling me that Wigelm is going to get away with it?”
“I’m saying that Ethelred will see this as a political problem, rather than a simple matter of crime and punishment.”
“Hell. So how might he solve the problem?”
“He may think the simplest answer is for you to marry Wigelm.”
Ragna stood up, furious. “Never!” she cried. “Surely he wouldn’t force me to marry the man who raped me?”
“I don’t think he would force you, no. And even if he were inclined that way I suspect his new Norman queen would take your side. But you don’t want to clash with the king if you can help it. You need him to think of you as a friend.”
Ragna struggled to accept all this. She recalled that she had once been quite shrewd about politics. She felt passionately angry and indignant, but that was not helping her to develop her strategy. She was lucky that Aldred was here to open her eyes. She said: “What do you think I should do?”
“Before Ethelred gets the chance to suggest the marriage, you should ask him to make no decision about your future before the baby is born.”
It was a sensible idea, Ragna thought. The whole picture would be changed if the baby died. Or the mother. And both happened frequently.
Aldred must have been thinking that, but he said something different. “Ethelred will like the idea because it will offend nobody.”
More importantly, Ragna thought, it would give her time to renew her friendship with Queen Emma and win her as an ally. There was nothing so valuable as a friend at court.
Aldred stood up. “I’ll leave you to think about that.”
“Thank you for taking care of my money.”
“Edgar traveled here with me. Will you see him?”
Ragna hesitated. She thought with regret of their last encounter. She had been too paralyzed with self-disgust to talk sensibly. He must have been terribly upset by her pregnancy, and her mood must have made that even worse. “Of course I’ll see him,” she said.
When he came in she noticed how well dressed he was, in a fine wool tunic and leather shoes. He wore no jewelry, but his belt had a decorated silver buckle and strap end. He was prospering.
And his face bore an expression of eager optimism that she knew well.
She stood up and said: “I’m glad to see you.”
He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace.
He was careful of her belly, but he hugged her shoulders hard. It almost hurt, but she did not care, she was so pleased to be touching him. They stayed like that for a long moment.
When they broke apart he was smiling like the boy who won the race. She smiled back. “How are you?” she said.
“I’m all right, now that you’re free.”
“Have you finished your bridge?”
“Not yet. What about you, what’s your plan?”