Page 80 of The Evening and the Morning
She carried a bundle in her arms. Edgar’s hoped leaped. Had the nuns found the baby?
Agatha must have seen the eagerness in his face, for she shook her head sadly, and Edgar was filled with alarm.
She came close and showed him what she held in her arms. Wrapped in a white wool blanket was Blod’s baby. His eyes were closed and he was not breathing.
“We found him on the shore,” Agatha said.
“Was he...”
“Dead or alive? I don’t know. We took him into the warm, but we were too late. We baptized him, though, so he’s with the angels now.”
Edgar was overwhelmed by grief. He cried and shivered at the same time, and his eyes blurred with tears. “I saw him born,” he said between sobs. “It was like a miracle.”
“I know,” said Agatha.
“And then I saw him murdered.”
Agatha unwrapped the blanket and gave the tiny baby to Edgar. He held the cold body to his bare chest and wept.
CHAPTER 11
Early October 997
s Ragna drew nearer to Shiring, her heart filled with apprehension.
She had embarked on this adventure eagerly, impatient for the pleasures of marriage with the man she loved, careless of perils. Bad weather delays had been frustrating. Now she was more aware, with every mile she traveled, that she did not really know what she had let herself in for. All of the short time she and Wilwulf had spent together had been at her home, where he was a stranger trying to fit in. She had never seen him in his own place, never watched him move among his own people, never heard him talk to his family, his neighbors, his subjects. She hardly knew him.
When at last she came in sight of his city, she stopped and took a good look.
It was a big place, several hundred homes clustered at the foot of a hill, with a damp mist drifting over the thatched roofs. It was surrounded by an earth rampart, no doubt for defense against Vikings. Two large churches stood out, pale stone and wet shingles against the mass of brown timber. One appeared to be part of agroup of monastic buildings enclosed by a ditch and a fence and was undoubtedly the abbey where the handsome Brother Aldred was in charge of the scriptorium. She looked forward to seeing Aldred again.
The other church would be the cathedral, for alongside it was a two-story house that must be the home of the bishop, Wilwulf’s brother Wynstan, soon to be Ragna’s brother-in-law. She hoped he would act like a kind of older brother to her.
A stone building with no bell tower was probably the home of a moneyer, containing a stock of silver metal that had to be guarded from thieves. England’s currency was trusted, she had learned: the purity of its silver pennies was carefully regulated by the king, who imposed brutal punishments for forgery.
There would be more churches in a town of this size, but they were probably built of timber, just like houses.
On top of the hill, dominating the town, was a stockaded compound, twenty or thirty assorted buildings enclosed by a stout fence. That must be the seat of government, the residence of the ealdorman, the home of Wilwulf.
And my home too now, Ragna thought nervously.
It had no stone buildings. That did not surprise her: it was only recently that the Normans had begun to build stone keeps and gatehouses, and most of them were simpler and cruder than her father’s castle at Cherbourg. She would undoubtedly be a little less safe here.
She had known in advance that the English were weak. The Vikings had first raided this country two centuries ago and the English still had not been able to put a permanent stop to it. People here were better at jewelry and embroidery than at fighting.
She sent Cat and Bern ahead to warn of her arrival. She followed slowly, to give Wilwulf time to prepare a welcome. She had to suppress the urge to kick Astrid into a canter. She was desperately keen to hold Wilwulf in her arms, and she resented every moment’s delay, but she was eager to make a dignified entrance.
Despite the drizzle of cold rain, the town was busy with commerce: people buying bread and ale, horses and carts delivering sacks and barrels, peddlers and prostitutes walking the mud streets. But business stopped as Ragna and her entourage approached. They formed a large group, richly dressed, and her men-at-arms all sported the severe haircut that marked them distinctively as Norman. People stared and pointed. They probably guessed who Ragna was: the forthcoming wedding was surely general knowledge in the town, and the people must have long anticipated her arrival.
Their looks were wary, and she guessed they were not certain how to respond to her. Was she a foreign usurper, come to steal the most eligible man in the west of England away from more deserving local girls?
She noticed that her men had instinctively formed a protective ring around her. That was a mistake, she realized. The people of Shiring needed to see their princess. “We look too defensive,” she said to Bern. “This won’t do. You and Odo ride ten paces ahead, just to clear the way. Tell the rest to fall back. Let the townsfolk see me.”
Bern looked worried, but he changed the formation as instructed.
Ragna began to interact with the people. She met the eyes of individuals and smiled at them. Most people found it hard not to return a smile, but here she sensed a reluctance. One woman gave a tentative wave, and Ragna waved back. A group of thatchers putting a roof on a house stopped work and called out to her: they spokeEnglish with a broad accent that she could not understand, so she was not sure whether their shouted comments represented enthusiasm or mockery, but she blew them a kiss. Some onlookers smiled in approval. A little crowd of men drinking outside an alehouse waved their caps in the air and cheered. Other bystanders followed suit. “That’s better,” said Ragna, her anxiety easing a little.
The noise drew people out of their houses and shops to see what was going on, and the crowd thickened ahead. Everyone followed behind the entourage, and as Ragna headed up the hill to the compound the buzz became a roar. She was infected by their enthusiasm. The more she smiled, the more they cheered; and the more they cheered, the happier she felt.
