Page 52 of The Evening and the Morning
As the rush lights were extinguished and the room became dark, so her heartbeat slowed and her body relaxed. At the same time, she began to think more clearly. If he did love her, why had he fled without explanation? Would Wynstan offer a justification for that? If not, she would ask for one directly, she decided.
That sobering thought brought her down to earth, and she fell asleep.
She woke at first light, and Wilwulf was the first thought to come into her mind. What would his offer be? Normally an aristocratic bride had to be guaranteed enough income to keep her if her husband died and she became a widow. If the children were likely to be heirs to money or titles, they might have to be brought up in the father’s country, even if he died. Sometimes the offer was conditional on the king’s approval. An engagement could be dismayingly like a commercial contract.
Ragna’s main concern was that Wilwulf’s offer should contain nothing that would give her parents reasons to object.
Once she was dressed, she wished she had slept later. The kitchen staff and the stable hands were always up early, but everyone else was still fast asleep, including Wynstan. She had to resist the temptation to grab him by the shoulder and shake him awake and question him.
She went to the kitchen, where she drank a cup of cider and ate a piece of pan bread dipped in honey. She took a half-ripe apple, went to the stables, and gave the apple to Astrid, her horse. Astrid nuzzled her gratefully. “You’ve never known love,” Ragna murmured in the horse’s ear. But it was not quite true: there were times, usually insummer, when Astrid carried her tail up and had to be roped in firmly to keep her away from the stallions.
The straw on the stable floor was damp and smelly. The hands were lazy about changing it. Ragna ordered them to bring fresh straw immediately.
The compound was coming awake. Men came to the well to drink, women to wash their faces. Servants carried bread and cider into the great hall. Dogs begged for scraps, and cats lay in wait for mice. The count and countess emerged from their quarters and sat at the table, and breakfast began.
As soon as the meal was over, the count invited Wynstan into the private apartment. Genevieve and Ragna followed, and they all sat in the outer chamber.
Wynstan’s message was simple. “When Ealdorman Wilwulf was here six weeks ago he fell in love with the lady Ragna. Back at home, he feels that without her his life is incomplete. He begs your permission, count and countess, to ask her to marry him.”
Hubert said: “What provision would he make for her financial security?”
“On their wedding day he will give her the Vale of Outhen. It’s a fertile valley with five substantial villages containing altogether about a thousand people, all of whom will pay her rent in cash or kind. It also has a limestone quarry. May I ask, Count Hubert, what the lady Ragna would bring to the marriage?”
“Something comparable: the village of Saint-Martin and eight smaller villages nearby amounting to a similar number of people, just over one thousand.”
Wynstan nodded but did not comment, and Ragna wondered if he wanted more.
Hubert said: “The income from both properties will be hers?”
“Yes,” said Wynstan.
“And she will retain both properties until her death, whereupon she may bequeath them to whomever she will?”
“Yes,” said Wynstan again. “But what about a cash dowry?”
“I had thought Saint-Martin would be sufficient.”
“May I suggest twenty pounds of silver?”
“I’ll have to think about that. Will King Ethelred of England approve of the marriage?”
It was usual to ask royal permission for aristocratic nuptials. Wynstan said: “I have taken the precaution of asking for his consent in advance.” He directed an oily smile at Ragna. “I told him that she is a beautiful and well-brought-up girl who will bring great credit to my brother, to Shiring, and to England. The king agreed readily.”
Genevieve spoke for the first time. “Does your brother live in a home like this?” She raised her hands to indicate the stones of the castle.
“Madam, no one lives in a building like this in England, and I believe there are few like it even in Normandy and the Frankish lands.”
Hubert said proudly: “That’s true. There is only one building like this in Normandy, at Ivry.”
“There are none in England.”
Genevieve said: “Perhaps that’s why you English seem so unable to protect yourselves from the Vikings.”
“Not so, my lady. Shiring is a walled town, strongly defended.”
“But clearly it doesn’t have a stone-built castle or keep.”
“No.”
