Page 217 of The Evening and the Morning
Ragna considered telling him to leave. She had more faith in Hildi. But a second opinion could do no harm. She stepped back, and others followed suit, allowing Godmaer to kneel beside Wilf.
He was not as gentle as Hildi, and when he touched the swelling Wilf groaned in pain. It was too late for Ragna to protest.
Wilf opened his eyes and said: “Who are you?”
“You know me,” Godmaer said. “Have you forgotten?”
Wilf closed his eyes.
Godmaer turned Wilf’s head to one side, looked into his ear, then turned it again to look in the other ear. Hildi frowned anxiously and Ragna said: “Gently, please, Father.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Godmaer said haughtily, but he became a little less rough. He opened Wilf’s mouth and peered in, then pushed up his eyelids, and finally sniffed his breath.
He stood up. “The problem is an excess of black bile, especially in the head,” he announced. “This is causing fatigue, dullness, and memory loss. The treatment will be trepanning, to let the bile out. Pass me the bow drill.”
His young companion handed him the tool, which was used by carpenters to drill small holes. The sharpened iron bit was twisted into the string of the bow so that, when the bit was held firmly against a plank and the shaft of the bow moved to and fro, the point spun fast and pierced the wood.
Godmaer said: “I will now drill a hole in the patient’s skull to allow the accumulated choler to escape.
Hildi made an exasperated sound.
Ragna said: “Just a minute. There is already a hole in his skull.If there was an excess of any fluid it would surely have come out by now.”
Godmaer looked taken aback, and Ragna realized that he had not lifted the loose skin and therefore did not know about the crack in the skull. But he recovered quickly, squared his shoulders, and looked indignant. “I trust you’re not questioning the judgments of a medically trained man.”
Ragna could play that game. “As the wife of the ealdorman I question the judgment of everyone except my husband. I thank you for your attendance, Father, even though I did not invite you, and I will bear your advice in mind.”
Gytha said: “I invited him because he is the leading medical practitioner in Shiring. You have no right to deny the ealdorman the recommended treatment.”
“I’ll tell you something, stepmother-in-law,” said Ragna angrily. “I’ll make a hole in the throat of anyone who tries to make another hole in my husband’s head. Now take your pet priest out of my house.”
Godmaer gasped. Ragna realized she had gone too far—referring to Godmaer as “your pet priest” was close to sacrilege—but she hardly cared. Godmaer was arrogant, which made him dangerous. Medically trained priests rarely cured anyone, in her experience, but they often made sick people worse.
Gytha murmured something to Godmaer, who nodded, lifted his head, and stalked out, still carrying the bow drill. His assistant followed.
There were still too many people standing around uselessly. “Everyone except my servants please leave now,” Ragna said. “The ealdorman needs peace and quiet to get well.”
They all went out.
Ragna bent over Wilf again. “I will take care of you,” she said. “I will do as I have for the last half a year, and govern your territory as you would govern it.”
There was no response.
She said: “Do you think you can answer one more question?”
He opened his eyes, and his lips twitched in the ghost of a smile.
“What is the most important thing you need me to do now, as your deputy?”
She thought she saw a look of intelligence come over his face. He said: “Appoint a new commander for the army.” Then he closed his eyes.
Ragna sat on a cushioned stool and looked thoughtfully at him. He had given her a clear instruction in a moment of lucidity. From it she deduced that the army’s work was not yet done, and the Vikings had not been driven off. The men of Shiring needed to regroup and attack again. And for that they needed a new leader.
Wynstan would want his brother Wigelm to be in charge. Ragna dreaded that: the more power Wigelm acquired, the more likely he was to challenge her authority. Her choice would be Sheriff Den, an experienced leader and fighter.
In the shire court, where most decisions were reached by consensus, she could often get her way by force of personality, but with this decision she foresaw a problem. The men would have strong views and they would be quick to dismiss the opinion of a woman, who could not know much about warfare. She would have to be sly.
It was evening. The hours had gone by quickly. Ragna said to Agnes: “Go to Sheriff Den and ask him to come to me now. Don’t walk with him—I don’t want people to know I summoned him. Itmust look as if he heard the news and came to see the ealdorman, like everyone else.”
