Bada said nothing.

“Do you see a wound? Any blood? A bruise, even? Because I don’t.”

She was suddenly scared by a new thought. The strap she had used to pull the corpse along the canal might have left a red mark. Discreetly, she looked hard at the skin of his throat, but to her relief nothing was visible.

“Well, Bada?”

Bada just looked sulky.

“Anybody,” Ragna said to the crowd. “Come as near as you like. Inspect the body. Look for signs of violence.”

Several people stepped forward and peered closely at Wigelm. One by one they shook their heads and stepped back.

Ragna said: “Sometimes a man just drops dead, especially one who has been getting drunk every evening for years. It’s possible Wigelm suffered some kind of seizure while pissing in the canal. Perhaps he died and then fell into the water. We may never know. But there’s no sign that it was anything but an accident, is there?”

Once again the crowd murmured assent.

Bada looked mulish. “I’ve heard tell,” he said, “that if a murderer touches the corpse of his victim, the dead man will bleed afresh.”

A chill went through Ragna. She had heard that, too, though she had never seen it happen and did not really believe it. But she was going to have to test the truth of the superstition now.

She said to Bada: “Who would you would like to see touch the body?”

“You,” said Bada.

Ragna struggled to hide her fear. Pretending supreme confidence, she said: “Watch, everyone.” Unfortunately she could not quite stop the tremor in her voice. She lifted her right arm high, then brought it down slowly.

In the version she had heard, when she touched Wigelm, blood would pour from his nose, mouth, and ears.

At last she laid a hand on Wigelm’s heart.

She kept it there for a long moment. The church was silent. The body was horribly cold. She felt faint.

Nothing happened.

The corpse did not move. No blood appeared. Nothing.

Feeling as if her life had been saved, she lifted her hand, and the crowd gave a collective sigh of relief.

Ragna said: “Anyone else you suspect, Bada?”

Bada shook his head.

Ragna said: “Wigelm died in the canal when drunk. That is the verdict, and this inquest is over.”

The people began to leave the church, talking among themselves. Ragna listened to the tone of the collective murmur and heard satisfied conviction.

But they were not the only people she needed to convince. The city of Shiring was much more important. She needed to make sure her version of events, as backed up by the Outhenham verdict, was the one repeated in the alehouses and brothels tomorrow.

And for that she had to get there first.

The men most likely to make trouble for her were Garulf and Bada. She thought of a way to make sure they were detained here in Outhenham.

She summoned them. “You two are responsible for the ealdorman’s body,” she said. “Go now to Edmund the carpenter and tell him I command him to make a coffin for Wigelm. He should be able to finish it by this evening or tomorrow morning. Then you are to escort the body to Shiring for burial in the cathedral graveyard. Is that clear?”

Bada looked at Garulf.

“Yes,” Garulf said. He seemed glad to have someone tell him what to do.

Bada was not so compliant.

Ragna said: “Bada, is that clear?”

He was forced to back down. “Yes, my lady.”

Ragna would leave immediately, but without warning. Quietly, she said: “Ceolwulf, find the oarsmen and bring them to the quarry.”

Ceolwulf was young enough to be cheeky. He said: “What for?”

She made her voice coldly severe. “Don’t you dare question me. Just do as you’re told.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Osgyth, come with me.”

Back at the house she told Osgyth to pack. When Ceolwulf arrived she ordered him to saddle Astrid.

One of the oarsmen said: “Are we going back to King’s Bridge?”

Ragna did not want to give anyone a chance to betray her plans. “Yes,” she said. It was half true.

When they were ready, she rode along the side of the canal with her servants accompanying her on foot. At the riverside they boarded the barge.

Then she told the oarsmen to row her to the opposite bank. Having heard Ceolwulf snapped at for insolence, they did not question her.

They tied up and she walked Astrid off the barge.

“Ceolwulf and Osgyth come with me,” she said. “You two, row the barge back to King’s Bridge and wait for me there.”

Then she turned her horse in the direction of Shiring.

* * *

Ragna was nervous about being reunited with her child.

She had not seen Alain for six months, which was a long time in the life of a toddler. He was now three years old. Did he now think Meganthryth was his mother? Would he even remember Ragna? When she took him away, would he cry for Meganthryth? Should Ragna tell him that his father was dead?

She did not have to confront these questions immediately upon arrival. It was dark. The search and the inquest at Outhenham had taken up most of the morning, so she arrived in Shiring in the evening, when little children were asleep and the grown-ups were preparing supper. She would not wake Alain. When she was married to Wigelm he had sometimes taken it into his head to visit his son late in the evening, and always insisted on waking the child. Alain would grizzle sleepily until he was put down again, and then Wigelm would accuse Ragna of turning his son against him. But the fault was his own. Ragna would not make the same mistake. She would not go to the ealdorman’s compound until the morning. “We’ll stay with Sheriff Den tonight,” she said to her servants.

She found Den sitting with his wife, Wilburgh, while supper was prepared in his great hall. “I’ve just come from Outhenham,” Ragna said. “Wigelm died there last night.”

Wilburgh said: “Heaven be praised.”

Den asked the key question. “How did he die?” he said calmly.

“He got drunk and fell in the canal and drowned.”

“No surprise.” Den nodded. “It’s a pity you were there, though. People will suspect you.”

“I know. But there were no signs of violence on the body, and the villagers are satisfied that it was an accident.”

“Good.”

“I need to spend the night here in your compound.”

“Of course. Let’s get you settled in, then you and I must talk about what happens next.”

Den assigned her an empty house. It might have been the one in which she had lain with Edgar, for the first and only time, four years ago. She remembered every detail of their lovemaking, but she was not sure which house they had had. She wished she could make love to him again.

She left Osgyth and Ceolwulf to light the fire and make the place comfortable, and she returned to Den’s house. “I’m going to take my son Alain back tomorrow morning,” she said. “There’s no reason for him to stay with Wigelm’s concubine.”

Wilburgh said: “I should think so, too.”

“I agree,” said Den.

“Sit down, my lady, please,” said Wilburgh. She brought a jug of wine and three cups.

Ragna said: “I hope King Ethelred will support me.”

“I believe he will,” said Den. “In any case, it will be the least of his concerns.”

Ragna had not thought about the king’s other concerns. “What do you mean?”

“The main question is who will become ealdorman now.”

Ragna had had too much else to worry about: the body, the inquest, getting to Shiring first, and most of all Alain. But now that Den had raised the subject she saw that it was a matter of pressing urgency. It would affect her future profoundly. She wished she had given it more thought.

Den said: “I’m going to tell the king that there’s only one practical answer.”

Ragna could not guess what he meant. “Tell me.”

“You and I have to rule Shiring together.”

Ragna was thunderstruck. She said nothing for a long moment. Finally she managed: “Why?”

“Think about it,” Den said. “Wigelm’s heir is Alain. Your son inherits the town of Combe. And the king ruled that Wigelm was Wilwulf’s heir, so all of Wilwulf’s lands also now come to Alain.” He paused to let that sink in, then he said: “Your little boy is now one of the richest men in England.”

“Of course he is.” Ragna felt stupid. “I just hadn’t thought it through.”

“He’s two years old, isn’t he?”

Wilburgh said: “More like three, now.”

“Yes,” said Ragna. “He’s three.”

“So you will be lord of all his lands for the next decade at least. In addition to the Vale of Outhen.”

“This depends on the king’s approval.”

“True, but I can’t imagine him doing anything else. Every nobleman in England will be watching to see how Ethelred handles this. They like to see wealth passed from father to son, because they want their own sons to inherit.”

Ragna sipped wine thoughtfully. “The king doesn’t have to do everything the nobles want, of course, but if he doesn’t they can make trouble.”

“Exactly.”