“By building buttresses to support it on the downhill side.”

Aldred shook his head. “I have no money for stone.”

“Well, perhaps I could get some free.”

Aldred brightened. “Could you, really?”

“I don’t know,” said Edgar. “I can try.”

* * *

Edgar went to ask Ragna for help. She had always been kind to him. Other people spoke of her as formidable, something of a dragon, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and was determined to get it. But she seemed to have a soft spot for Edgar. However, that did not mean she would give him anything he asked for.

He felt eager to see her, and he asked himself why. Of course he wanted to help Aldred out of the morass of gloom. But Edgar suspected himself of a desire he despised in others, the wish to be friends with aristocrats. He thought of the way Dreng acted around them, fawning on Wilwulf and Wynstan and constantly mentioning that he was related to them. He hoped his keenness to talk to Ragna was not part of a similar, shameful aspiration.

He went by river to Outhenham and spent a night at the home of Seric, the new headman, and his wife and grandchild. Perhaps it was Edgar’s imagination, but the village seemed a calmer, happier place with Seric in charge.

In the morning he left his raft in Seric’s care and walked on to Shiring. If his plan worked he would be able to return to Dreng’s Ferry with a load of stone on the raft.

It was a cold journey. Icy rain turned to sleet. Edgar’s leather shoes became sodden and his feet hurt. If ever I have money, he thought, I’m going to buy a pony.

His thoughts turned to Aldred. He felt sorry for the monk, a man who wanted only to do good. Aldred had been brave to go up against a bishop. Too brave, perhaps: justice might be something to hope for in the next world, not this one.

The streets of Shiring were almost deserted: in this weather most people stayed indoors, huddled around their fires. But there was a small crowd outside Elfwine’s stone house, where silver pennies were made under the king’s license. Elfwine, the moneyer, stood outside, and his wife was beside him, weeping. Sheriff Den was there with his men, and Edgar saw that they were bringing Elfwine’s equipment out onto the street and smashing it up.

Edgar spoke to Den. “What’s going on?”

“King Ethelred ordered me to close the mint,” said Den. “He’s displeased about the forgery at Dreng’s Ferry, and believes the trial was a sham; and this is his way of showing it.”

Edgar had not foreseen this, and clearly Wilwulf and Wynstan had not either. All the most important towns in England had a mint. The closure would be a blow to Wilwulf. It was a loss of prestige, but worse, the mint drew business to the town, business that would now go elsewhere. A king did not have many ways of enforcing his will, but coinage was under his control, and closing the mint was a punishment he could inflict. However, Edgar guessed this would not be enough to change Wilwulf’s behavior.

Edgar found Ragna in a pasture next to the ealdorman’s compound. She had decided the weather was too bad for the horses to be out of doors, and was supervising the stable hands as they rounded up the beasts to bring them inside. She wore a coat of fox furs, red-gold like her hair, and she looked like a wild woman of the forest, beautiful but dangerous. Edgar found himself wondering whether her body hair was the same color. He quickly pushed the thought away: it was foolish for a working man to think such thoughts about a noblewoman.

She smiled at him and said: “Have you walked here in this weather? Your nose looks as if it could drop off at any moment! Come with me and have some hot ale.”

They entered the compound. Here, too, most people were staying indoors, though a handful of busy folk scurried from one building to another with their cloaks over their heads. Ragna led Edgar into her house. When she took her coat off he thought she had gained some weight.

They sat close to the fire. Her maid Cat heated a fire iron then plunged it into a tankard of ale. She offered it to Ragna, who said: “Give it to Edgar—he’s colder than me.”

Cat handed the cup to Edgar with a pleasant smile. Perhaps I should marry a girl like her, he thought. I could feed a wife, now that we have the fishpond, and it would be nice to have someone to sleep with. But as soon as he formed the idea, he knew it was wrong. Cat was a perfectly nice woman, but he did not feel about her the way he had felt about Sungifu. He was momentarily embarrassed, and hid his face by drinking from the cup. The ale warmed his belly.

Ragna said: “I had a nice little farm picked out for you in the Vale of Outhen, but in the end you didn’t need it. Aldred is your landlord now, so you should be safe.”

She seemed a little distracted, and Edgar wondered if she had something on her mind. “I’m grateful to you all the same,” he said. “You gave me the courage to be one of Aldred’s oath helpers.”

She nodded acknowledgment, but clearly was not interested in going back over the events of the trial. Edgar decided to get right to the point; he did not want to make her impatient. “I’m here to ask another favor,” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“The church at Dreng’s Ferry is falling down, but Aldred can’t afford to repair it.”

“How could I help with that?”

“You could let us have the stone free of charge. I could quarry it myself, so it would cost you nothing. And it would be a pious gift.”

“So it would.”

“Will you do it?”

She looked into his eyes with an expression of amusement and something else he could not read. “Of course I will,” she said.

Her ready assent threatened to bring tears to his eyes, and he felt a surge of gratitude that was almost like love. Why were there not more people like this in the world? “Thank you,” he said.

She sat back, breaking the spell, and said briskly: “How much stone will you need?”

He suppressed his emotions and became practical. “About five raftloads of stones and rubble, I think. I’m going to have to build buttresses with deep foundations.”

“I’ll give you a letter to Seric saying you can take as much as you like.”

“You’re so kind.”

She shrugged. “Not really. There’s enough stone in Outhenham to last a hundred years.”

“Well, I’m very thankful.”

“There’s something you could do for me.”

“Name it.” There was nothing he would like better than to perform some service for her.

“I still have Gab as quarrymaster.”

“Why do you keep someone who stole from you?”

“Because I can’t find anyone else. But perhaps you could take over as quarrymaster, and supervise him.”

The idea of working for Ragna thrilled Edgar. But how was it to be managed? He said: “And repair the church at the same time?”

“I’m thinking you could spend half your time at Outhenham and half at Dreng’s Ferry.”

He nodded slowly. That might work. “I’m going to be traveling often to Outhenham for stone.” But he would have to hand over the fishpond to his brothers, so he would lose the income from the fish market.

Ragna solved that problem with her next sentence. “I’ll pay you sixpence a week, plus a farthing per stone sold.”

This would amount to a lot more than the fish brought in. “You’re generous.”

“I want you to make sure Gab doesn’t get up to his old tricks again.”

“That’s easy enough. I can tell how much stone he’s removed just by looking at the quarry.”

“And he’s lazy. Outhenham could produce more stone if someone was willing to make the effort to sell it.”

“And that someone is me?”

“You can do anything—that’s the kind of person you are.”

He was surprised. Even if it was not true, he was pleased that she thought it.

She said: “Don’t blush!”

He laughed. “Thank you for having faith in me. I hope I can justify it.”

“Now, I have some news,” she said.

Ah, he thought; this will be the reason why she seemed distracted earlier.

She said: “I’m going to have a baby.”

“Oh!” The announcement took his breath away—which was strange, for it was hardly surprising that a healthy young bride should get pregnant. And he had even noticed that she had put on weight. “Baby,” he said stupidly. “My goodness.”

“It’s due in May.”

He did not know what to say. What question did people ask a pregnant woman? “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

“A boy, to please Wilf. He wants an heir.”

“Of course.” A nobleman always wanted heirs.

She smiled. “Are you happy for me?”

“I am,” Edgar said. “Very happy.”

He wondered why that felt like a lie.

* * *

Christmas Eve was a Saturday this year. Early that morning Aldred got a message from Mother Agatha asking him to go and see her. He put on a cloak and walked down to the ferry.

Edgar was there, unloading stones from his raft. “Ragna agreed to give us the stone free,” he said, smiling at his triumph.

“Great news! Well done.”

“I can’t start building yet—the mortar might freeze overnight. But I can get everything ready.”

“But I still can’t pay you.”