“You’re a wealthy man and a leading citizen, and I could grant you some lands with a compound so that you would be a thane. Thurstan of Lordsborough died recently, you could take his place.”

“Edgar of Lordsborough.”

“Do you like that idea?”

“Not as much as I like you,” he said.

Then they did it for the fifth time.

CHAPTER 43

    January 1007

he cathedral site was busy. Most of the men were digging foundations and stacking supplies. The craftsmen, hired by Edgar from England and Normandy and farther away, were building their lodges, makeshift huts in which they could shape timber and stones in all weather. They would start putting up walls on Lady Day, March 25, when there was little further danger of overnight frost freezing the mortar.

Edgar had built his tracing floor. Parchment was too expensive for designs, but there was a cheap alternative. He had embedded planks in the ground to form a shallow box about twelve feet by six and filled the box with a bed of mortar. Scratches in the mortar showed white. With a straight edge, a sharp iron point, and a pair of compasses he could draw all the columns and arches he needed. The whiteness faded over time, so new drawings could be made over old, though the scratch marks remained for years.

Edgar had built his own lodge over the tracing floor, just a wide roof on four posts, so that he could continue to work when it rained. He was kneeling there, staring at a window he had drawn, when Ragna appeared and interrupted him. “A messenger has arrived from King Ethelred,” she said.

Edgar stood up, his heart pounding. “What does the king say to our marriage?”

Ragna said: “He says yes.”

* * *

Aldred stood with Mother Agatha while the lepers were fed their midday meal. Sister Frith gave thanks for the food, then the disabled men and women crowded around the table with their wooden bowls. “No pushing, no shoving!” Frith cried. “There is food for everyone. The last gets the same as the first!” They took no notice.

Aldred said: “How is he?”

Agatha shrugged. “Filthy, miserable, and mad—the same as most of them.”

When Aldred became bishop he had dismissed all of Wynstan’s clergy from Shiring Cathedral, including Archdeacon Degbert, who ended up a penniless village priest in Wigleigh. Aldred replaced Wynstan’s men with monks from King’s Bridge, under the supervision of Brother Godleof. On the way home, Aldred had picked up former bishop Wynstan from his prison at the hunting lodge and brought him back to Leper Island. Now Wynstan stood with the others, waiting for his meal.

Wynstan was dressed in rags and dirty from his face to his bare feet. He was skinny and his shoulders were slumped. He must have felt cold, but he did not show it. The nun filled his bowl with a thick stew of oats and bacon, and he ate it all quickly, using his unclean fingers.

When he had finished he raised his eyes, and with a flash of recognition, he looked at Aldred.

He approached Aldred and Agatha. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “There has been a terrible mistake.”

“No mistake,” Aldred said, not sure how much Wynstan could understand. “You committed dreadful sins—murder, forgery, fornication, kidnapping. You’re here because of your wrongdoing.”

“But I’m the bishop of Shiring. I’m going to become the archbishop of Canterbury. It’s all planned!” He looked around wildly. “Where am I now? How did I get here? I can’t remember.”

“I brought you here. And you’re not the bishop any longer. I am.”

Wynstan began to cry. “It’s not fair,” he sobbed. “It’s not just.”

“It is, though,” said Aldred. “It’s very just.”

* * *

Ragna and Edgar got married at Shiring.

The party was hosted by Ealdorman Den. At this time of year there was little fresh food, so Den got in huge stocks of salt beef and beans and dozens of barrels of ale and cider.

Every important man in the west of England showed up, and the whole town crowded into the compound at the top of the hill. Edgar moved through the throng, welcoming guests, accepting congratulations, greeting people he had not seen for years.

All four of Ragna’s children were there. By the end of the day I’ll have a wife and four stepsons, he thought. It was strange.

The buzz of talk changed, and he heard sounds of surprise and admiration. He looked toward the source and saw Ragna, and for a moment he could not breathe.

She wore a dress in a rich dark yellow with flared sleeves finished in embroidered braid, and a sleeveless overdress of dark green wool. Her silk headdress was chestnut brown, her favorite color, the fabric interwoven with threads of gold. Her glorious red-gold hair swept down behind like a waterfall. At that moment Edgar knew she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

She came to Edgar and took his hands in hers. He looked into Ragna’s sea-green eyes and felt unable to believe that she was his.

He said: “I, Edgar of King’s Bridge and Lordsborough, take you, Ragna of Cherbourg and Shiring, to be my wife, and I vow to love you and care for you and be true to you for the rest of my days.”

Ragna replied quietly, with a smile. “I, Ragna, daughter of Count Hubert of Cherbourg, and lord of Shiring, Combe, and the Vale of Outhen, take you, Edgar of King’s Bridge and Lordsborough, to be my husband, and I vow to love you and care for you and be true to you for the rest of my days.”

Aldred, wearing his bishop’s robes and a large silver pectoral cross, spoke a blessing in Latin on their marriage.

Next it was normal to kiss. Edgar had thought about this for years and he was not going to rush it. They had kissed before, but now for the first time they would do so as husband and wife, and it would be different, for they had promised to love each other forever.

He looked at her for a long moment. She sensed what he was feeling—something that happened often—and she waited, smiling. He leaned slowly to her and brushed her lips with his own. There was a ripple of applause from the crowd.

He put both arms around her and gently pulled her to himself, feeling her breasts against his chest. Still with his eyes open, he pressed his mouth to hers. They both parted their lips and touched tongues hesitantly, exploring as if for the first time, like adolescents. He felt her hips push toward his own. She reached around him with both arms and pulled him harder, and he heard the crowd laugh and shout encouragement.

Edgar felt swamped with more passion than he could bear. He wanted to touch her with every inch of his body, and he could tell that she felt the same. For a moment he forgot about the audience, and kissed her as if they were alone; but that made the watchers increasingly raucous, and at last he broke the kiss.

His gaze did not leave hers. He felt moved almost to weeping. Repeating the last words of the vow, he murmured: “For the rest of my days.”

He saw tears come to her eyes, and she said: “And mine, my love, and mine.”