“But who will be named as the new ealdorman?”

“If it could be a woman, Ethelred would choose you. You have the wealth and status, and you’re known to be a fair judge. They call you Ragna the Just.”

“But a woman can’t be ealdorman.”

“No. Nor raise armies and lead them into battle against the Vikings.”

“So you will do that.”

“I’m going to propose to the king that he make me regent until Alain is old enough to rule as ealdorman. I will manage the defense of Shiring against Viking raids, and continue to collect taxes for the king. You will hold court, on behalf of Alain, in Shiring and Combe as well as Outhenham, and administer all the smaller courts. That way the king and the nobles get what they want.”

Ragna felt excited. She had no greed for wealth, perhaps because she had never lacked for money, but she was eager to gain the power to do good. She had long felt it was her destiny. And now she seemed on the brink of becoming the ruler of Shiring.

She found that she badly wanted the future that Den painted for her. She began to think about how to make sure of it.

“We should do more,” said Ragna. Her strategic brain was back on track. “Remember what Wynstan and Wigelm did after they killed Wilwulf? They took charge the very next day. No one had time to figure out how to stop them.”

Den looked thoughtful. “You’re right. They still needed royal approval, of course—but once they were in place it was difficult for Ethelred to dislodge them.”

“We should hold court tomorrow morning—in the ealdorman’s compound, in front of the great hall. Announce to the townspeople that you and I are taking charge—no, that we already have taken charge—pending the king’s decision.” She thought for a minute. “The only opposition will come from Bishop Wynstan.”

“He’s ill, and losing his mind; and people know that,” Den said. “He’s not the power he once was.”

“Let’s make sure of that,” Ragna insisted. “When we go to the compound, you should take all your men with you, fully armed, a show of strength. Wynstan has no men-at-arms: he never needed them because his brothers had plenty. Now he has no brothers and no men. He may protest at our announcement, but there will be nothing he can do about it.”

“You’re right,” said Den. He looked at Ragna with an odd little smile.

She said: “What?”

He said: “You’ve just proved it. I made the right choice.”

* * *

In the morning Ragna could hardly wait to see Alain.

She forced herself not to hurry. This was a hugely important public event, and she had long ago learned the importance of giving the right impression. She washed thoroughly, to smell like a noblewoman. She let Osgyth do her hair in an elaborate style with a high hat, to make her even taller. She dressed carefully, in the richest clothes she had with her, to look as authoritative as possible.

But then she could not discipline herself any longer, and she went ahead of Sheriff Den.

The townspeople were already climbing the hill to the ealdorman’s compound. The news had evidently got around town already. No doubt Osgyth and Ceolwulf had talked last night of the events in Outhenham, and half the townspeople had heard the story—Ragna’s version—by morning. They were avid to learn more.

Den had written to the king last night, before going to bed, and his messenger had left already. It would be some time before a reply came: Den was not sure where the king was, and it could take the messenger weeks to find him.

Ragna went straight to Meganthryth’s house.

She saw Alain immediately. He was sitting at the table eating porridge with a spoon, watched by his grandmother, Gytha, and Meganthryth, plus two maids. Ragna realized with a shock that he was no longer a baby. He was taller, his dark hair was getting long, and his face had lost its pudgy roundness. He had the beginnings of the nose and chin that characterized the men of Wigelm’s family.

She cried: “Oh, Alain, you’ve changed!” and she burst into tears.

Gytha and Meganthryth both turned around, startled.

Ragna went to the table and sat by her son. He stared at her thoughtfully with his large blue eyes. She could not tell whether he knew her or not.

Gytha and Meganthryth looked on without speaking.

Ragna said: “Do you remember me, Alain?”

“Mudder,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he had been searching for the right word and was satisfied to have found it; then he put another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

Ragna felt a wave of relief overwhelm her.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the other women. Meganthryth’s eyes were red and sore. Gytha was dry-eyed, but her face was white and drawn. They had heard the news, evidently, and both were possessed by grief. Wigelm had been evil, but he had been Gytha’s son and Meganthryth’s lover, and they mourned him. But Ragna felt little compassion. They had connived in the monumental cruelty of taking Alain away from Ragna. They deserved no sympathy.

Ragna said firmly: “I have come to take back my child.”

Neither woman protested.

Alain put down his spoon and turned his bowl to show that it was empty. “All gone,” he said. He placed the bowl back on the table.

Gytha looked defeated. All her deviousness had come to nothing in the end. She seemed much changed. “We were cruel to you, Ragna,” she said. “It was wicked of us to take your child.”

It was a shocking turnaround, and Ragna was not ready to take it at face value. “Now you admit it,” she said. “When you’ve lost the power to keep him.”

Gytha persisted. “You won’t be as wicked as us, will you? Please don’t cut me off from my only grandchild.”

Ragna made no reply. She turned her attention back to Alain. He was watching her carefully.

She reached for him and he held out his arms to be picked up. She lifted him onto her lap. He was heavier than she remembered: she would no longer be able to carry him around half the day. He leaned into her, resting his head on her chest, and she felt the heat of his little body through the wool of her dress. She stroked his hair.

From outside she heard the sound of a large group of people. Den was arriving with his entourage, she guessed. She stood up, still holding Alain in her arms. She went out.

Den was marching across the compound at the head of a large squad of men-at-arms. Ragna joined him and walked by his side. A crowd was waiting for them outside the great hall.

They stopped at the door and turned to face the people.

All the important men of the town stood at the front of the crowd. Bishop Wynstan was there, Ragna saw; and she was shocked by his appearance. He was thin and stooped, and his hands were shaking. He looked like an old man. His face as he stared at Ragna was a mask of hatred, but he seemed too weak to do anything about it, and his weakness appeared to fuel his rage.

Den’s deputy, Captain Wigbert, clapped his hands loudly.

The crowd went quiet.

Den said: “We have an announcement.”

CHAPTER 42

    October 1006

ing Ethelred held court in Winchester Cathedral, with a crowd of dignitaries wrapped in furs against the bite of approaching winter.

To Ragna’s delight, he confirmed everything Sheriff Den had proposed.

Garulf protested, his indignant whine echoing off the stone walls of the nave. “I am the son of Ealdorman Wilwulf and the nephew of Ealdorman Wigelm,” he said. “Den is merely a sheriff without noble blood.”

The assembled thanes might have been expected to agree with this, for they all wanted their sons to be rulers too; but their reaction was muted.

Ethelred said to Garulf: “You lost half my army in one foolish battle in Devon.”

Kings have long memories, thought Ragna. She heard a rumble of agreement from the noblemen, who also remembered Garulf’s defeat.

“That will never happen again,” Garulf promised.

The king was unmoved. “It won’t, because you’ll never lead my army again. Den is ealdorman.”

Garulf at least had the sense to know when his case was hopeless, and he shut up.

It was not just the battle, Ragna reflected. Garulf’s family had defied the king’s rule again and again for a decade, disobeying orders and refusing to pay fines. It had seemed that they would get away with it indefinitely, but now at last their insurrection had come to an end. There was justice, after all. A pity it took such a long time coming.

Queen Emma, sitting next to the king on a similar cushioned stool, leaned over and murmured in his ear. He nodded and spoke to Ragna. “I believe your son has been restored to you, Lady Ragna.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

He addressed the court. “Let no one take the lady Ragna’s child from her.”