“Many girls of sixteen are mothers.”

“But she’s not!”

“No, but she will do as I say, whereas you completely ignore my wishes. Alain hardly knows he’s got a father. But I will have him raised according to my principles. He must become a man.”

“No!”

Wigelm moved toward Alain, who was sitting at the table, looking scared. Cat stepped between the two. Wigelm grabbed the front of her dress with both hands, lifted her off her feet, and threw her at the wall. She screamed, hit the timber planks, and crumpled to the floor.

All the children were crying.

Wigelm picked Alain up. The boy screamed in terror. Wigelm tucked him under his left arm. Ragna grabbed Wigelm’s arm and tried to detach Alain. Wigelm punched the side of her head so hard that momentarily she blacked out.

She came to, lying on the floor. She looked up to see Wigelm going out, with Alain kicking and screaming under his arm.

She struggled to her feet and staggered to the door. Wigelm was marching across the compound to his own house. Ragna was too dazed to run after him, and anyway she knew she would only be knocked down again.

She turned back inside. Cat was sitting on the floor rubbing her head through her mop of black hair. Ragna said: “How badly are you injured?”

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” Cat said. “What about you?”

“My head hurts.”

Grimweald spoke. “What can I do to help?”

Ragna’s answer was sarcastic. “Just carry on protecting us, as usual,” she said.

The bodyguard stamped out.

The children were still wailing. The women began to comfort them. Cat said: “I can’t believe he’s taken Alain.”

“He wants Meganthryth to raise the boy to be a stupid bully like his father.”

“You can’t let him get away with this.”

Ragna nodded. She could not let things stand. “I’m going to talk to him,” she said. “Perhaps I can get him to see sense.” She was not optimistic, but she had to try.

She left the house and crossed to Wigelm’s place. As she approached, she could hear Alain crying. She went in without knocking.

Wigelm and Meganthryth stood talking, Meganthryth holding Alain and trying to quiet him. As soon as the child saw Ragna he screamed: “Mudder!” That was what he had always called Ragna.

Instinctively, Ragna went toward him, but Wigelm stopped her. “Leave him,” he said.

Ragna stared at Meganthryth. She was short and plump, and would have been pretty but for a twist about her mouth that suggested greed. Still, she was a woman: would she really refuse to let a child go to his mother?

Ragna stretched out her arms toward Alain.

Meganthryth turned her back.

Ragna was horrified that any woman could do such a thing, and her heart filled with loathing.

With an effort, she turned from Alain and spoke to Wigelm, doing her best to use a calm, reasonable voice. “We need to discuss this,” she said.

“No. I don’t discuss. I tell you what’s going to happen.”

“Will you make a prisoner of Alain, and keep him locked in this house? That will turn him into a weakling, not a warrior.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“Then he will play in the compound with his brothers, and he will go with them when they come home, and every day you will have to do what you’ve just done. And when you’re not here, which is often, who is going to drag the little boy away from his family while he kicks and screams for his mother?”

Wigelm looked baffled. Clearly he had thought of none of this. Then his face cleared and he said: “When I travel I’ll take him with me.”

“And who will look after him on the road?”

“Meganthryth.”

Ragna glanced at her. She looked appalled. Clearly she had not been consulted. But she clamped her mouth shut.

Wigelm went on: “I leave for Combe tomorrow. He can come with me. He’ll get to know about the life of an ealdorman.”

“You’re going to take a two-year-old on a four-day journey.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“And when you come back?”

“We’ll see. But he’s not going to live with you, not ever again.”

Ragna could no longer control herself, and she began to cry. “Please, Wigelm, I beg you, don’t do this. Forget about me, but take pity on your son.”

“I pity him being raised by a gaggle of women and turned effeminate. If I allowed that to happen he would grow up to curse his father. No, he stays here.”

“No, please—”

“I’m not listening to any more of this. Get out.”

“Just think, Wigelm—”

“Do I have to pick you up and throw you through the door?”

Ragna could not take any more beating. She hung her head. “No,” she sobbed. Slowly she turned and walked to the door. She looked back at Alain, still screaming hysterically and holding his arms out to her. With a huge effort she turned away and walked out.

* * *

The loss of her youngest child left a hole in Ragna’s heart. She thought about him constantly. Did Meganthryth keep him clean and fed? Was he well, or suffering from a childish ailment? Did he wake at night and cry for her? She had to force herself to put him out of her mind for at least part of the day, otherwise she would go mad.

She had not given him up—she never would. So when the king and queen came to Winchester, Ragna went there to plead with them.

By this time Ragna had not seen Alain for a month. Wigelm’s visit to Combe turned into a spring tour of his region, and he kept the child with him. Apparently he intended on staying away from Shiring for an extended period.

Wynstan was still at Canterbury, for the tussle over who was to be the new archbishop was dragging out; so both brothers managed to miss the royal court, which encouraged Ragna.

However, she preferred not to plead her cause in open court. She was distraught, but she could still strategize. Open court was unpredictable. The noblemen of the region might side with Wigelm. Ragna preferred to talk quietly to individuals.

After the grand service in the cathedral on Easter Sunday, Bishop Alphage gave a dinner at his palace for the magnates gathered in Winchester. Ragna was invited, and saw her chance. Full of hope, she rehearsed again and again what she would say to the king.

Easter was the most important festival of the Church year, and this was a royal occasion, too, so it was a great social event. People wore their finest clothes and most costly jewelry, and Ragna did the same.

The bishop’s house was richly furnished with carved oak benches and colorful tapestries. Someone had put fragrant apple tree twigs on the fire to perfume the smoke. The table was set with silver-rimmed cups and bronze dishes.

Ragna was greeted warmly by the royal couple, which gave her encouragement. She immediately told them that Wigelm had taken Alain from her. Queen Emma was a mother—she had given birth to a son and a daughter in the first four years of her marriage to Ethelred—so she would undoubtedly sympathize.

But Ethelred interrupted Ragna before she had finished the first sentence of her prepared speech. “I know about this,” he said. “On our way here we happened to meet Wigelm and the child.”

That was news to Ragna—bad news.

Ethelred went on: “I discussed this problem with him.”

Ragna despaired. She had been hoping her story would shock the king and queen and excite their compassion. But unfortunately Wigelm had got there first. Ethelred had already heard his version, which would have been distorted.

Ragna would just have to combat that. As an experienced ruler, Ethelred must know not to believe everything he heard.

She spoke emphatically. “My lord king, it can’t be right for a two-year-old to be torn from his mother.”

“I think it’s very harsh, and I told Wigelm so.”

Queen Emma said: “Quite right. The boy is the same age as our Edward, and if he were taken from me it would break my heart.”

“I don’t disagree, my love,” said Ethelred. “But it’s not for me to tell my subjects how to order their families. The king’s responsibilities are defense, justice, and a sound currency. The raising of children is a private matter.”

Ragna opened her mouth to argue. The king was a moral leader, too, and he had the right to reprove misbehaving magnates. But then she saw Emma give a quick shake of her head. Ragna closed her mouth. A moment’s reflection told her that Emma was right. When a ruler had spoken so decisively he would not be talked around. For her to persist would only alienate Ethelred. It was hard, but she controlled her disappointment and rage. She bowed her head and said: “Yes, my lord king.”

How long would she be separated from Alain? Surely not forever?

Someone else caught the attention of the royal couple, and Ragna turned aside. She tried not to cry. Her position seemed hopeless. If the king would not help her get her son back, who would?