“Thank you.” She stood up, and Aldred did the same.

He said: “Have you spoken to Wilf yet about Inge?”

“No. I’m still not sure what to say.”

“Whatever you do, don’t leave him feeling guilty.”

Ragna felt herself flush with indignation. “Why on earth not? He deserves to feel guilty.”

“You don’t want to become the person who makes him unhappy.”

“But that’s outrageous. He should be unhappy about what he has done to me.”

“Of course he should. But pointing it out won’t help you.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

They left the cathedral and turned in opposite directions. Ragna was thoughtful as she walked up the hill to the compound. She began to see sense in Aldred’s last remarks. She should not be a sad, defeated person this morning. She was Wilf’s choice, his bride, the woman he loved. She had to walk and talk like a winner.

She returned to her house. It would soon be time for the midday meal. She got Cat to comb and arrange her hair, then she selected her favorite dress, made of a silk the rich color of autumn leaves. She put on a necklace of amber beads. Then she went to the great hall and took her usual place on Wilf’s right hand.

Throughout the meal she talked in her usual way, asking the people around her what they had done that morning, joking with the men and gossiping with the women. She caught several looking at her in surprise: they would be the ones who knew what a shock she had suffered yesterday. They expected her to be grief-stricken. She was grief-stricken, but she was hiding it.

Afterward, she left with Wilf and walked by his side to his house. As usual, he needed little encouragement to make love to her. She began by pretending her usual enthusiasm, but soon found pretence unnecessary, and in the end was almost as satisfied as normal.

All the same, she had forgotten nothing.

When he rolled off her, she did not let him fall into his habitual doze. “I didn’t know you had a son,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

She felt his body tense beside her, but he made his voice casual. “Yes,” he said. “Garulf.”

“And I didn’t know that Inge was still alive.”

“I never said she was dead,” he shot back. It sounded like a rehearsed answer he had been holding in readiness.

Ragna ignored it. She did not want to get into a pointless argument about whether she had been lied to or merely told less than the whole truth. She said: “I want to know all about you.”

He was watching her warily. Clearly he was not sure what she was up to. He was asking himself whether to prepare himself to be berated or get ready to make excuses.

Let him wonder, she thought. She was not going to accuse him, but she did not mind if his conscience made him uncomfortable. “Your ways aren’t the same as those of the Normans,” she said. “I should ask you more questions.”

He could not object to that. “All right.” He seemed relieved, as if he had feared worse.

“I do not want to be surprised again,” she said, and she heard the hardness in her own voice.

He was clearly not sure how to take this. She guessed that he was expecting rage, or tears, but this was different, and he had no response ready. He looked bewildered and said simply: “I see.”

In the last few hours her anxieties had resolved into two burning questions, and she decided to ask them now. She felt he would be eager to give her what she wanted.

Ragna clasped her hands together to stop them shaking. “I have a couple of things to ask you right now.”

“Go ahead.”

“Where is Inge from? What’s her background?”

“Her father was a priest. In fact he was secretary to my father.”

Ragna could easily imagine the scenario: the children of two men who worked closely together, the son of one and the daughter of the other, spending much time in each other’s company, an adolescent romance, perhaps an unintended pregnancy, finally an early marriage. “So Inge does not have noble blood.”

“No.”

“When my father agreed to my marriage with you, he certainly foresaw that my children would be your heirs.”

He did not hesitate. “They will be.”

That was important. It meant she was the ealdorman’s official wife, not just one of a number of women of unclear status. She was not going to be made number two.

Needing to be sure, she pressed him. “Not Garulf.”

“No!” he said, annoyed to be asked twice.

“Thank you. I’m glad to have your solemn word on that.”

She was pleased to have extracted from him such an important promise. Perhaps he had never intended anything different, but the days were over when she took such things for granted.

He was mildly irritated at having been pushed up against the wall by her. In a voice that suggested his patience was running out he said: “Anything else?”

“Yes, one more question. Do you intend to fuck Inge?”

He chuckled. “If I have any energy left.”

“It’s not a joke.”

His face hardened. “Something you need to be in no doubt about,” he said. “You will never tell me who I may or may not bring to my bed.”

Ragna felt as if she had been slapped.

Wilf said: “I’m a man, an Englishman, and the ealdorman of Shiring, and I do not take orders from any woman.”

Ragna looked away to hide her sadness. “I see,” she said.

He took her chin in his hand and turned her head back so that she was forced to look at him. “I will fuck anyone I like. Is that clear?”

“Very clear,” said Ragna.

* * *

The damage to Ragna’s pride was painful but she could live with it. The wound to her heart was worse.

She mended her pride by holding her head high and concealing her sorrow. She also remembered Aldred’s advice, and looked for an early opportunity to assert her authority. But nothing eased the hurt in her heart. She just nursed it, and hoped it would fade in time.

Garulf had received a gift of a ball, a piece of leather sewn with strong twine and stuffed with rags, and in January the adolescent boys of the compound began to play a rough game in which two teams competed, each trying to carry the ball into the opponents’ “castle,” a square marked on the ground. Garulf was captain of one team, of course, and the other was led by his friend Stigand, called Stiggy. They played between the stable and the pond, irksomely near the main gate.

The rowdiness was a nuisance to the adults, but Garulf was the ealdorman’s son, so a degree of tolerance was expected. However, as the days went by, Ragna noticed the game becoming violent, while at the same time the boys were more careless of inconvenience to passersby. It was worse when Wilf was away, and Ragna began to see it as a challenge to her authority.

Then one day when Wilf was away the ball struck the kitchen maid Gilda on the head, knocking her down.

Ragna happened to see it. She snatched up the ball to stop the game, then knelt beside Gilda.

Gilda’s eyes were open and after a moment she sat up, holding her head. “That hurt,” she said.

The boys were standing around, panting with effort. Garulf did not express regret about the accident or concern for Gilda, Ragna noticed. He just seemed irritated that his fun had been disrupted. That annoyed her.

“Sit still for a minute,” Ragna said to Gilda. “Catch your breath.”

But Gilda was impatient. “I feel foolish sitting here in the mud,” she said. She struggled to her knees.

Ragna helped her stand. “Come to my house,” she said. “I’ll give you a sip of wine to strengthen you.”

They walked to Ragna’s door.

Garulf followed them and said: “I want my ball.”

Ragna realized she was still holding it.

She ushered Gilda inside, then, holding the door, turned to Garulf and said: “What you want is a thrashing.” She went in and slammed the door.

She threw the ball into a corner.

She persuaded Gilda to lie on her bed, and Cat brought a little wine in a cup. Gilda soon felt better. Ragna established that she did not feel dizzy and could walk without assistance, then let her return to the kitchen.

A minute later Gytha came in, looking haughty. “I gave my grandson a ball as a gift,” she said.

Garulf was Gytha’s stepgrandson, but Ragna did not quibble. “So it came from you,” she said.

“He says you’ve taken it from him.”

“I have.”

Gytha looked around, spotted the ball in the corner, and quickly picked it up, then looked triumphant.

Ragna said: “Did he tell you why I took it?”

“Something about a minor accident.”

“A kitchen maid was knocked off her feet. The game has become dangerous.”

“Boys will be boys.”

“Then they must be boys outside the compound. I won’t allow the game to continue inside.”

“I will be responsible for my grandson’s behavior,” said Gytha, and she walked out, still holding the ball.

Not long afterward, the game began again.

Ragna summoned Bern, and the two of them stood outside watching. The boys saw them and tried to steer clear, but they could not keep the action within limits—that was the whole problem—and before long the ball came Ragna’s way again.