Ragna felt chilled. What did he mean by or else?
She saw Hildi the midwife approaching across the snowy compound. Ragna was always pleased to speak to her. She was a wise old woman, and her medical skill extended much beyond childbirth.
Hildi said: “I know you don’t like Agnes.”
Ragna stiffened. “I liked her well enough until she turned traitor.”
“She’s dying, and she wants to beg your forgiveness.”
Ragna sighed. Such a request was hard to refuse, even when it came from the woman who had ruined Ragna’s life.
She told Cat to watch the boys, and left with Hildi.
In the town the pure white of the snow had already been defiled by garbage and muddy footsteps. Cat led the way to a small house behind the bishop’s palace. The place was dirty and smelled bad. Agnes lay in the straw on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. On her cheek, beside her nose, was a hideous red lump with a scabbed crater in its center.
Her gaze roamed around the room as if she did not know where she was. Her eyes fell on Ragna and she said: “I know you.”
It was an odd thing to say. Agnes had lived with Ragna for more than a decade, but she spoke as if they were distant acquaintances.
Hildi said: “She gets confused. It’s part of the illness.”
“I’ve got a terrible headache,” Agnes said.
Hildi addressed her. “You asked me to bring the lady Ragna to see you so that you could tell her how sorry you are.”
Agnes’s face changed. Suddenly she appeared to have all her mental faculties. “I did a wicked thing,” she said. “My lady, can you ever forgive me for betraying you?”
The plea was irresistible. “I forgive you, Agnes,” Ragna said sincerely.
Agnes said: “God is punishing me for what I did. Hildi says I’ve got Whore’s Leprosy.”
Ragna was shocked. She had heard of this disease. It was spread by sexual contact, hence the name. Starting with headaches and dizziness, it caused mental deterioration and eventually drove the sufferer mad. In a quiet tone she said to Hildi: “Is it fatal?”
“In itself, no, but the sufferer is so weakened and accident prone that death comes soon from other causes.”
Ragna raised her voice and spoke to Agnes. “Did Offa have it?” she asked incredulously.
Hildi shook her head. “Agnes didn’t get it from her husband.”
“Who, then?”
Agnes said: “I sinned with the bishop.”
“Wynstan?”
Hildi said: “Wynstan has the disease. It’s progressing more slowly with him than it did with Agnes, so he doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve seen the signs. He’s tired all the time and he gets dizzy spells. And he has a lump on his throat. He tries to hide it under his cloak, but I’ve seen it, and it’s just like the one on Agnes’s face.”
Ragna said: “If he finds out, he’ll keep it deadly secret.”
“Yes,” said Hildi. “If people knew he was going mad he might lose his power.”
“Exactly,” said Ragna.
“I will never tell anyone. I’m too frightened.”
“Me, too,” said Ragna.
* * *
Aldred felt a little dazed as he looked at the stacks of silver pennies on the table.
Brother Godleof was the treasurer of King’s Bridge Priory, and he had brought the money chest from the safe in Cuthbert’s old workshop and placed it on the table. Together they had counted out the silver coins. They could have weighed them faster, but they did not have a scale.
Until now they had not needed one.
“I thought we would be short of money this year, after the famine,” Aldred said.
“The upside of that was it caused the Vikings to go home,” said Godleof. “We earned less than usual, but still plenty. We have the tolls from the bridge, the rents from stallholders in the marketplace, and donations from pilgrims. And don’t forget that we’ve received four grants of substantial lands in the past year, and we’re now collecting rents from them.”
“Success breeds success. But we must have spent a lot, too.”
“We have fed starving people from miles around. But we’ve also built a schoolhouse, a scriptorium, a refectory, and a dormitory for all the new monks who have joined us.”
It was true. Aldred was well on the way to achieving his dream of a center of learning and scholarship.
Godleof went on: “Most of them are timber buildings, so they didn’t cost much.”
Aldred stared at the money. He had worked hard to strengthen the priory’s finances, but now he found himself feeling uncomfortable about so much wealth. “I took a vow of poverty,” he said, half to himself.
“It’s not your money,” said Godleof. “It belongs to the priory.”
“True. Still, we can’t just sit and gloat over it. Jesus told us not to store up treasure on earth, but in heaven. This was given to us for a purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“Perhaps God wants us to build a bigger church. We certainly need it. We have to hold three separate Masses on Sundays now, and the church is packed for each one. Even on weekdays the pilgrims sometimes queue for hours to see the bones of the saint.”
“Whoa,” said Godleof. “What you see in front of you is not enough to pay for a stone church.”
“But more money will continue to come in.”
“I certainly hope so, but we can’t see the future.”
Aldred smiled. “We must have faith.”
“Faith isn’t money.”
“No, it’s much better than money.” Aldred stood up. “Let’s lock all this away, then I’ll show you something.”
They put the chest back in the safe, left the monastery, and walked up the hill. There were new houses on both sides of the street—all of which were paying rent to the monastery, Aldred recalled. They drew level with Edgar’s house. Aldred should have rented it to a new tenant, but he had sentimentally kept it empty.
Opposite Edgar’s house was the marketplace. Today was not a market day, but nevertheless a handful of hopeful traders were there, despite the cold weather, offering fresh eggs, sweet cakes, woodland nuts, and homemade ale. Aldred led Godleof across the square.
On the far side the forest began, but here much of it had been cut down for timber. “This is where the new church will stand. Edgar and I made a town plan, years ago.”
Godleof stared at the jungle of bushes and tree stumps. “All this will have to be properly cleared.”
“Of course.”
“Where would we get the stone?”
“Outhenham. The lady Ragna will probably give it to us free, as a pious donation, but we’ll have to employ a quarryman.”
“There’s a lot to be done.”
“Indeed—so the sooner we begin, the better.”
“Who’s going to design the church? It’s not like building a house, is it?”
“I know.” Aldred’s heart beat faster. “We need to get Edgar back.”
“We don’t even know where he is.”
“He can be found.”
“By whom?”
Aldred was tempted to lead the search himself. However, that was impossible. The priory was thriving, but he was the leader. If he absented himself for the weeks or months that a trip to Normandy would take, all kinds of things could go wrong. “Brother William could go,” he said. “He was born in in Normandy and lived there until he was twelve or thirteen. And I’ll send young Athulf with him, because Athulf is always restless.”
“Today is not the first time you’ve thought about this.”
“True.” Aldred did not want to admit how often he had daydreamed of bringing Edgar home. “Let’s go and talk to William and Athulf.”
As they walked downhill to the monastery, Aldred noticed a man in monk’s robes riding across the bridge. The figure looked familiar, and as he came closer Aldred recognized Wigferth of Canterbury.
He welcome Wigferth and took him to the kitchen for bread and hot ale. “This is early for you to be collecting your Christmas rents,” he said.
“They sent me ahead of time to get rid of me,” Wigferth said sourly.
“Who wanted to get rid of you?”
“The bishop of Shiring.”
“Wynstan? What’s he doing in Canterbury?”
“Trying to be made archbishop.”
Aldred was horrified. “But it’s supposed to be Alphage of Winchester!”
“I still hope it will be Alphage. But Wynstan has cleverly ingratiated himself with the monks, and in particular with Sigefryth, the treasurer. A lot of them are now opposed to Alphage. And a discontented body of monks can be a frightful nuisance. King Ethelred may appoint Wynstan just for the sake of a quiet life.”
“Heaven forbid!”
“Amen,” said Wigferth.
* * *
A fresh fall of snow gave Ragna the chance to teach the children some letters. She gave each boy a stick and said: “What letter starts Osbert’s name?”
“I know, I know!” said Osbert.
“Can you draw it?”
“Easy.” Osbert drew a large, uneven circle in the snow.
“The rest of you, draw the letter that starts Osbert. See, it’s round, like the shape of your lips when you say the beginning of his name.”
The twins managed rough circles. Alain had trouble, but he was only two, and Ragna’s main purpose was to teach them that words were made of letters.