“That’s outrageous. What will you do?”

“I want to defy Wynstan, and testify for Aldred. But my family needs a farm. I’ve got a sister-in-law and a baby niece now, as well as my brothers.”

Ragna could see that he was torn, and she felt sympathy for him. “I understand.”

“That’s why I’ve come to you. In the whole of the Vale of Outhen it must happen that a farm becomes vacant quite often.”

“Several times a year. Usually there’s a son or a son-in-law to take it over, but not always.”

“If I knew I could rely on you to give my family a farm, I would be one of Aldred’s oath helpers, and defy Wynstan.”

“I’ll give you a farm if you’re evicted,” she said without hesitation. “Of course I will.”

She saw his shoulders slump with relief. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve no idea how much . . .” To her surprise, his hazel eyes filled with tears.

She reached across the table and took his hand. “You can rely on me,” she said. She held his hand a moment longer, then let it go.

* * *

Hildred ambushed Aldred in the chapter meeting.

Chapter was the hour of the day in which the monks remembered their democratic origins. They were all brothers, alike in the sight of God and equals in the running of the abbey. This conflicted directly with their vow of obedience, so neither principle was obeyed fully. Day to day, the monks did what the abbot told them to do; but at the chapter meeting they sat in a circle and decided major issues of principle as equals—including the election of a new abbot when the old one died. If no consensus emerged, they would hold a vote.

Hildred began by saying that he had to bring before the monks an issue that grieved both him and poor Abbot Osmund upstairs on his sick bed. He then reported Wilwulf’s visit. As he told the story, Aldred looked around at the faces of the monks. None of the older ones looked surprised, and Aldred realized that Hildred had secured their support in advance. The younger ones looked surprised and shocked. They had not been forewarned for fear that they would give Aldred a chance to prepare his defense.

Hildred finished by saying that he had raised this in chapter because Aldred’s role in the investigation of Wynstan and the upcoming trial was an issue of principle. “Why is the abbey here?” he said. “What is our role? Are we here to play a part in power struggles among the nobility and the higher priesthood? Or is it our duty to withdraw from the world, and worship God in tranquillity, ignoring the storms of earthly life that rage around us? The abbot has asked Aldred to take no part in the trial, and Aldred has refused. I believe the brothers here assembled have the right to consider what the will of God is for our monastery.”

Aldred saw that there was a measure of general agreement. Even those who had not been previously buttonholed by Hildred thought that monks ought not to get involved in politics. Most monks liked Aldred better than Hildred, but they also liked a quiet life.

They were waiting for him to speak. It was like a gladiatorial contest, he thought. He and Hildred were the two leading monks under the abbot. One of them would take Osmund’s place sooner or later. This tussle could make a difference to the final battle.

He would give his point of view, but he feared too many of the monks had already made up their minds. Rationality might not be enough.

He decided to raise the stakes.

“I agree with much of what Brother Hildred says,” he began. In an argument it was always wise to show respect for your opponent: people disliked antipathy. “This is indeed an issue of principle, a question of the role of monks in the world. And I know Hildred is sincere in his concern for our abbey.” This was going to the far edge of generosity, and Aldred decided it was enough. “However, let me put forward a slightly different point of view.”

The room was quiet now, and they were all agog.

“Monks must be concerned with this world as well as the next. We’re told to store up treasure in heaven, but we do so by good works here on earth. We live in a world of cruelty and ignorance and pain, but we make it better. When evil is done in front of our eyes we cannot remain silent. At least . . . I cannot.” He paused for effect.

“I have been asked to withdraw from the trial. I refuse. It is not God’s will for me. I ask you, my brothers, to respect my decision. But if you decide to expel me from this abbey, then of course I will have to leave.” He looked around the room. “For me that would be a sad day.”

They were shocked. They had not expected him to make this a resigning issue. No one wanted it to go that far—except Hildred, perhaps.

There was a long silence. What Aldred needed was for one of his friends to suggest a compromise. But he had had no chance to prearrange this, so he had to hope that one of them would work something out on his own.

In the end it was Brother Godleof, the taciturn ex-cowherd, who figured it out. “No need for expulsion,” he said with characteristic brevity. “Man shouldn’t be forced to do what he thinks wrong.”

Hildred said indignantly: “But what about your vow of obedience?”

Godleof was economical with words but he did not lack intelligence, and he could match Hildred in an argument. “There are limits,” he said simply.

Aldred saw that many of the monks agreed with that. Their obedience was not absolute. He sensed the mood moving to his side.

To Aldred’s surprise his colleague in the scriptorium, the old scribe Tatwine, raised his hand. Aldred could not remember him speaking in chapter before. “I haven’t been outside the precincts of this abbey for twenty-three years,” Tatwine said. “But Aldred went to Jumièges. That isn’t even in England! And he brought back marvelous volumes, books we’d never seen before. Marvelous. There are more ways than one to be a monk, you see.” He smiled and nodded, as if agreeing with himself. “More ways than one.”

The older monks were moved by this intervention, the more so because it was so rare. And Tatwine worked with Aldred daily: that made his opinion more weighty.

Hildred knew that he was beaten, and he did not push the matter to a vote. “If the chapter is minded to pardon Aldred’s disobedience,” he said, trying to hide his annoyance under a mask of tolerance, “then I feel sure Abbot Osmund would not want to insist otherwise.”

Most of the monks nodded assent.

“Then let us move on,” Hildred said. “I understand there has been a complaint about moldy bread . . .”

* * *

The day before the trial, Aldred and Den shared a cup of ale and reviewed their prospects. Den said: “Wynstan has done his best to undermine our oath helpers, but I don’t think he’s succeeded.”

Aldred nodded. “He sent Ithamar to threaten Edgar with eviction, but Edgar persuaded Ragna to promise him a farm if necessary, so he’s solid now.”

“And I gather you prevailed in chapter.”

“Wilwulf tried to bully Abbot Osmund, but in the end the chapter backed me, just.”

“Wynstan isn’t liked in the religious community. He brings them all into disrepute.”

“There’s a lot of interest in this case, not just in Shiring. There will be several bishops and abbots present, and I would expect them to support us.”

Den offered Aldred more ale. Aldred declined, but Den took another cupful.

Aldred said: “How will Wynstan be punished?”

“One law says that a forger’s hand should be cut off and nailed over the door to the mint. But another prescribes the death penalty for forgers who work in the woods, which might include Dreng’s Ferry. And anyway judges don’t always read the books of law. Often do as they please, especially men such as Wilwulf. But we have to get Wynstan convicted first.”

Aldred frowned. “I don’t see how the court can fail to convict. Last year King Ethelred made every ealdorman swear an oath with his twelve leading magnates. They had to vow not to conceal any guilty person.”

Den shrugged. “Wilwulf will break that oath. So will Wigelm.”

“The bishops and abbots will keep theirs.”

“And there’s no reason why other thanes, unrelated to Wilwulf, should imperil their immortal souls to save Wynstan.”

“God’s will be done,” said Aldred.

CHAPTER 23

    November 1, 998

uring the predawn service of Matins, Aldred’s mind wandered. He tried to concentrate on the prayers and their meaning, but all he could think about was Wynstan. Aldred had caught a lion by the tail, and if he did not kill the beast then it would kill him. Failure in court today would be a catastrophe. Wynstan’s revenge would be brutal.

The monks returned to bed after Matins, but got up again soon afterward for Lauds. They crossed the courtyard in the cold November air and entered the church shivering.