Her voice was bitter. I nodded to show I understood.

‘A year later,’ she went on, ‘I was sold again. To a Saxon from Lundene. A slave-trader. He paid much money and his name,’ she was speaking so softly that I almost could not hear her, ‘his name was Gunnald.’

‘Gunnald,’ I repeated.

‘Gunnald Gunnaldson.’ She was gazing at the northern bank where a small village came down to the water. A child waved from a decaying wharf. I watched the oars, dipping, pulling, then rising slowly with water dripping from the long blades. ‘They brought me to Lundene where they sold their slaves,’ Benedetta went on, ‘and both raped me. Father and son, both, but the son was the worst. They would not sell me, they wanted to use me, so I tried to kill myself. It was better than being used by those pigs.’

She had said the last few words very softly so she could not be overheard by the men on the nearest rowing bench. ‘Kill yourself?’ I asked just as quietly.

She turned to look at me, then slowly, without a word, pushed back the hood and unwound the grey scarf she always wore about her neck. I saw the scar then, a deep scar across the right side of her slender neck. She let me look for a moment, then replaced the scarf. ‘I did not cut deep enough,’ she said bleakly, ‘but it was enough to make them sell me.’

‘To Edward.’

‘To his steward. I would work in his kitchens and in his bed, but Queen Eadgifu rescued me, so I serve her now.’

‘As a trusted servant.’

‘As a trusted slave.’ She still sounded bitter. ‘I am not free, lord.’ She pulled the hood back over her raven black hair. ‘Do you keep slaves?’ she asked belligerently.

‘No,’ I said, which was not strictly true. Bebbanburg had many estates where my household warriors farmed and I knew many of them had slaves, and my father had kept a score in the fortress to cook, clean, sweep, and warm his bed, and some of those were still there, aged now and paid as servants. I had taken no new slaves because my own experience as a slave, when I had been condemned to pull an oar through wintry seas, had soured me against slavery. But then, I thought, I did not need slaves. I had enough men and women to keep the fortress safe, warm and fed, and I had enough silver to reward them. ‘I’ve killed slave-traders,’ I remarked, knowing as I said it that it was only spoken to attract Benedetta’s approval.

‘If we go to Lundene,’ she said, ‘you may kill one for me.’

‘Gunnald? He’s still there?’

‘He was two years ago,’ she answered bleakly. ‘I saw him. He saw me too, and he smiled. It was not a good smile.’

‘You saw him? In Lundene?’

She nodded. ‘King Edward liked to visit. The queen liked it too. She could buy things.’