Page 314 of The Evening and the Morning
She took her place in the straw and closed her eyes.
I believe I got away with it, she thought.
She knew she should have been full of guilt, but all she could do was rejoice.
She did not sleep. She relived the night in her head, from the moment she had heard Wigelm’s slurred voice to her final rush backalong the bank of the canal. She asked herself whether she had done enough to make the death look like a drunken accident. Was there anything about the corpse that might cause suspicion? Had she perhaps been seen by someone who did not reveal himself? Had her absence from the house somehow been noticed?
She heard the door creak and guessed that Osgyth and Ceolwulf had returned. She pretended to be fast asleep. There was a soft thud as the bar was replaced—too late, she thought resentfully. She heard their tiptoe footsteps, a smothered giggle, and soft rustling as they lay down. She guessed that Ceolwulf had resumed his guard position, lying across the doorway, so that no one could get in without waking him.
Both young people were soon breathing rhythmically.
Clearly they had no idea of the night’s drama. And now Ragna saw that their negligence would work in her favor. If asked, they would swear that they had been in the house all night, guarding their mistress as was their duty. Their dishonesty would give her an alibi.
Soon it would be a new day, a happy day, her first in a world without Wigelm.
She hardly dared to think about Alain. With Wigelm dead, surely she would get her child back? No one would want Meganthryth to raise him, now that Wigelm was no longer around to bully them—would they? It would make no sense, but it might be done out of spite. Wigelm was gone, but his evil brother, Wynstan, was still alive. People said Wynstan was going mad, but that only made him even more dangerous.
She fell into a fretful doze and was awakened by a knock at the door, three sharp taps, polite but urgent. A voice said: “My lady! Eanfrid here.”
Now for the aftermath, she thought.
She stood up, brushed off her dress, and smoothed her hair, then said: “Let him in, Ceolwulf.”
Dawn was breaking, she saw when the door was opened. Eanfrid entered, red-faced and panting from the effort of carrying his considerable bulk at a fast walk. Without preamble he said: “Wigelm is missing.”
Ragna adopted a tone of brisk efficiency. “Where was he when you last saw him?”
“He was in my alehouse, still drinking with Garulf and others, when I fell asleep.”
“Has anyone looked for him?”
“His men have been wandering around calling his name half the night.”
“I didn’t hear anything.” Ragna turned to her servants. “Did you?”
Osgyth said quickly: “Nothing, my lady. It was quiet here the whole night through.”
Ragna was keen to get them both to commit to lying. She said: “Did either of you go outside at all in the night, even just to piss or anything?”
Osgyth shook her head, and Ceolwulf said firmly: “I didn’t move from my place by the door.”
“Right.” She was satisfied. It would now be difficult for them to change their story. “It’s daylight, so we must organize a systematic search.”
They walked to the village. Passing the canal brought grim thoughts, but Ragna pushed them to the back of her mind. She went to the priest’s house and banged on the door. The church did not have a bell tower, but Draca had a handbell. The shaven-headedpriest appeared and Ragna said briskly: “Lend me your bell, please.” He produced it and she rang vigorously.
People who were already up and about came immediately to the green between the church and the alehouse. Others followed, buckling their belts and rubbing their eyes. Most of Wigelm’s party looked much the worse for their revels.
The sun was rising by the time everyone had assembled. Ragna spoke so that all could hear. “We’ll form three search parties,” she said in a tone that did not invite discussion. She pointed at the priest. “Draca, take three villagers and search the west pasture. Go around the edges and all the way to the riverbank.” Next she chose the baker, a solidly reliable man. “Wilmund, you take three men-at-arms and search the east ploughland. Again, make sure you’re thorough and go all the way to the canal.” Wilmund would find the corpse if he was meticulous. Finally she turned to Garulf, whom she wanted out of the way. “Garulf, take everyone else to the north wood. That’s where your uncle is most likely to be. My guess is he lost his way in a drunken stupor. You’ll probably find him asleep under a bush.” The men laughed. “All right, move out!”
The three search parties left.
Ragna knew she had to act normally. “I could do with some breakfast,” she said to Eanfrid, though in truth she was still too wound up to be hungry. “Get me some ale and bread and an egg.” She led the way into the tavern.
Eanfrid’s wife brought her a jug and a loaf and quickly cooked an egg. Ragna drank the ale and forced herself to eat, and she felt better despite her lack of sleep.
What would the men-at-arms say when the body was found? In the night Ragna had assumed that they would jump to the obviousconclusion, that Wigelm had died in a drunken accident. But now she saw that there were other possibilities. Would they suspect foul play? And if they did, what could they do about it? Fortunately, there was no one here who ranked high enough to challenge Ragna’s authority.
As she had intended, Wilmund’s group found the body.
