Page 176 of The Evening and the Morning
“Buildings move, but there’s no looseness between mortared stones, so cracks appear. In some ways they’re useful, because they tell us what’s happening in the structure and forewarn us of problems.”
“Can you fill the crack with mortar?”
“Of course, but that’s not enough. The problem is that the tower is slowly tilting downhill, and leaving the chancel behind. I can fill the gap, but the tower will continue to move, and then the crack will reappear. But that’s the least of your problems.”
“What is the greatest of my problems?”
“The tower will fall down.”
“How soon?”
“I can’t tell.”
Aldred wanted to weep. As if his tribulations were not already as much as a man could bear, now his church was falling down.
Edgar saw the expression on his face, touched his arm lightly, and said: “Don’t despair.”
The touch heartened Aldred. “Christians never despair.”
“Good, because I can stop the tower falling down.”
“How?”
“By building buttresses to support it on the downhill side.”
Aldred shook his head. “I have no money for stone.”
“Well, perhaps I could get some free.”
Aldred brightened. “Could you, really?”
“I don’t know,” said Edgar. “I can try.”
Edgar went to ask Ragna for help. She had always been kind to him. Other people spoke of her as formidable, something of a dragon, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and was determined to get it. But she seemed to have a soft spot for Edgar. However, that did not mean she would give him anything he asked for.
He felt eager to see her, and he asked himself why. Of course he wanted to help Aldred out of the morass of gloom. But Edgar suspected himself of a desire he despised in others, the wish to be friends with aristocrats. He thought of the way Dreng acted around them, fawning on Wilwulf and Wynstan and constantly mentioning that he was related to them. He hoped his keenness to talk to Ragna was not part of a similar, shameful aspiration.
He went by river to Outhenham and spent a night at the home of Seric, the new headman, and his wife and grandchild. Perhaps it was Edgar’s imagination, but the village seemed a calmer, happier place with Seric in charge.
In the morning he left his raft in Seric’s care and walked on to Shiring. If his plan worked he would be able to return to Dreng’s Ferry with a load of stone on the raft.
It was a cold journey. Icy rain turned to sleet. Edgar’s leather shoes became sodden and his feet hurt. If ever I have money, he thought, I’m going to buy a pony.
His thoughts turned to Aldred. He felt sorry for the monk, a man who wanted only to do good. Aldred had been brave to go up against a bishop. Too brave, perhaps: justice might be something to hope for in the next world, not this one.
The streets of Shiring were almost deserted: in this weather most people stayed indoors, huddled around their fires. But there was a small crowd outside Elfwine’s stone house, where silver pennies were made under the king’s license. Elfwine, the moneyer, stood outside, and his wife was beside him, weeping. Sheriff Den was there with his men, and Edgar saw that they were bringing Elfwine’s equipment out onto the street and smashing it up.
Edgar spoke to Den. “What’s going on?”
“King Ethelred ordered me to close the mint,” said Den. “He’s displeased about the forgery at Dreng’s Ferry, and believes the trial was a sham; and this is his way of showing it.”
Edgar had not foreseen this, and clearly Wilwulf and Wynstan had not either. All the most important towns in England had a mint. The closure would be a blow to Wilwulf. It was a loss of prestige, but worse, the mint drew business to the town, business that would now go elsewhere. A king did not have many ways of enforcing his will, but coinage was under his control, and closing the mint was a punishment he could inflict. However, Edgar guessed this would not be enough to change Wilwulf’s behavior.
Edgar found Ragna in a pasture next to the ealdorman’s compound. She had decided the weather was too bad for the horses to be out of doors, and was supervising the stable hands as they rounded up thebeasts to bring them inside. She wore a coat of fox furs, red-gold like her hair, and she looked like a wild woman of the forest, beautiful but dangerous. Edgar found himself wondering whether her body hair was the same color. He quickly pushed the thought away: it was foolish for a working man to think such thoughts about a noblewoman.
She smiled at him and said: “Have you walked here in this weather? Your nose looks as if it could drop off at any moment! Come with me and have some hot ale.”
They entered the compound. Here, too, most people were staying indoors, though a handful of busy folk scurried from one building to another with their cloaks over their heads. Ragna led Edgar into her house. When she took her coat off he thought she had gained some weight.
