Then she turned her horse in the direction of Shiring.
 
 Ragna was nervous about being reunited with her child.
 
 She had not seen Alain for six months, which was a long time in the life of a toddler. He was now three years old. Did he now think Meganthryth was his mother? Would he even remember Ragna? When she took him away, would he cry for Meganthryth? Should Ragna tell him that his father was dead?
 
 She did not have to confront these questions immediately upon arrival. It was dark. The search and the inquest at Outhenham had taken up most of the morning, so she arrived in Shiring in the evening, when little children were asleep and the grown-ups were preparing supper. She would not wake Alain. When she was married to Wigelm he had sometimes taken it into his head to visit his son late in the evening, and always insisted on waking the child. Alain would grizzle sleepily until he was put down again, and then Wigelm would accuse Ragna of turning his son against him. But the faultwas his own. Ragna would not make the same mistake. She would not go to the ealdorman’s compound until the morning. “We’ll stay with Sheriff Den tonight,” she said to her servants.
 
 She found Den sitting with his wife, Wilburgh, while supper was prepared in his great hall. “I’ve just come from Outhenham,” Ragna said. “Wigelm died there last night.”
 
 Wilburgh said: “Heaven be praised.”
 
 Den asked the key question. “How did he die?” he said calmly.
 
 “He got drunk and fell in the canal and drowned.”
 
 “No surprise.” Den nodded. “It’s a pity you were there, though. People will suspect you.”
 
 “I know. But there were no signs of violence on the body, and the villagers are satisfied that it was an accident.”
 
 “Good.”
 
 “I need to spend the night here in your compound.”
 
 “Of course. Let’s get you settled in, then you and I must talk about what happens next.”
 
 Den assigned her an empty house. It might have been the one in which she had lain with Edgar, for the first and only time, four years ago. She remembered every detail of their lovemaking, but she was not sure which house they had had. She wished she could make love to him again.
 
 She left Osgyth and Ceolwulf to light the fire and make the place comfortable, and she returned to Den’s house. “I’m going to take my son Alain back tomorrow morning,” she said. “There’s no reason for him to stay with Wigelm’s concubine.”
 
 Wilburgh said: “I should think so, too.”
 
 “I agree,” said Den.
 
 “Sit down, my lady, please,” said Wilburgh. She brought a jug of wine and three cups.
 
 Ragna said: “I hope King Ethelred will support me.”
 
 “I believe he will,” said Den. “In any case, it will be the least of his concerns.”
 
 Ragna had not thought about the king’s other concerns. “What do you mean?”
 
 “The main question is who will become ealdorman now.”
 
 Ragna had had too much else to worry about: the body, the inquest, getting to Shiring first, and most of all Alain. But now that Den had raised the subject she saw that it was a matter of pressing urgency. It would affect her future profoundly. She wished she had given it more thought.
 
 Den said: “I’m going to tell the king that there’s only one practical answer.”
 
 Ragna could not guess what he meant. “Tell me.”
 
 “You and I have to rule Shiring together.”
 
 Ragna was thunderstruck. She said nothing for a long moment. Finally she managed: “Why?”
 
 “Think about it,” Den said. “Wigelm’s heir is Alain. Your son inherits the town of Combe. And the king ruled that Wigelm was Wilwulf’s heir, so all of Wilwulf’s lands also now come to Alain.” He paused to let that sink in, then he said: “Your little boy is now one of the richest men in England.”
 
 “Of course he is.” Ragna felt stupid. “I just hadn’t thought it through.”
 
 “He’s two years old, isn’t he?”