Page 88 of The Evening and the Morning
He smiled. “That clinches it.”
Wilf had made up his mind, and Gytha gave in. She was too wise to argue when she had already lost. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll swap Ragna and Wigelm.” She could not resist adding: “Wigelm won’t like it.”
Wilf said crisply: “If he complains, just remind him which brother is the ealdorman.”
Gytha bowed her head. “Of course.”
Ragna had won, and Wilf was displeased with Gytha. Ragna decided to push her luck. “Forgive me, Wilf, but I need both houses.”
Gytha said: “What on earth for? No one has two houses.”
“I want my men nearby. At present they’re lodged in the town.”
Gytha said: “Why do you need men-at-arms?”
Ragna gave her a haughty look. “It is my preference,” she said. “And I am about to be the ealdorman’s wife.” She turned her face to Wilf.
Now he was losing patience. “Gytha, give her what she wants, and no more arguments.”
“Very well,” said Gytha.
“Thank you, my love,” said Ragna, and she kissed him again.
CHAPTER 12
Mid−October 997
n the day of the hundred court, Edgar was nervous but determined.
The hundred of Dreng’s Ferry consisted of five small settlements, widely scattered. Bathford was the largest village, but Dreng’s Ferry was the administrative center, and the dean of the minster traditionally presided over the court.
Court was held every four weeks. It took place out of doors, regardless of the weather, but today happened to be bright, though cold. The big wooden chair was positioned outside the west end of the church, and a small table was set beside it. Father Deorwin, the oldest priest, brought from underneath the altar the pyx. Made by Cuthbert, this was a round, silver container with a hinged lid, its sides engraved with images of the Crucifixion. It held a consecrated wafer from the Mass, and it would be used today for administering oaths.
Men and women from all five villages came, including children and slaves, some on horseback but most on foot. Everyone showed up if they possibly could, because the court made decisions that affected their everyday lives. Even Mother Agatha was there, thoughnot any of the other nuns. Women were not allowed to testify, at least in theory, but strong characters such as Edgar’s Ma often spoke their minds.
Edgar had attended court many times in Combe. On several occasions his father had been obliged to bring suit against people who were slow to pay their bills. His brother Eadbald had gone through a phase of minor delinquency and had twice been charged with fighting in the street. So Edgar was not unfamiliar with the law and legal proceedings.
Today there was more excitement than usual, because an accusation of murder was to be heard.
Edgar’s brothers had tried to talk him out of bringing the charge. They did not want trouble. “Dreng is our father-in-law,” Eadbald had said, watching Edgar trimming a rough-hewn stone into a neat oblong shape, using his new hammer and chisel.
Anger made Edgar’s arm strong as he struck flakes off the stone. “That doesn’t mean he can break the law.”
“No, but it means my brother can’t be his accuser.” Eadbald was the more intelligent of Edgar’s two brothers, capable of a persuasive, rational argument.
Edgar had put down his tools to give Eadbald his full attention. “How can I keep silent?” he had replied. “A murder has been done, here in our village. We can’t pretend it never happened.”
“I don’t see why not,” Eadbald had said. “We’re just getting settled here. People are accepting us. Why do you have to make trouble?”
“Murder is wrong!” Edgar had said. “What other reason should I need?”
Eadbald had made a frustrated noise and walked away.
The other brother, Erman, had accosted Edgar that evening outside the tavern. He had taken a different tack. “Degbert Baldhead presides over the hundred court,” he had said. “He will make sure the court doesn’t convict his brother.”
“He may not be able to do that,” Edgar had replied. “The law is the law.”
“And Degbert is the dean, and our landlord.”
