An hour after the loss of the gift, the group came to the bank of a river and saw a hamlet on the far side. Peering through the weather, Ragna made out a few houses and a stone church. A sizable boat was moored on the opposite bank. According to the inhabitants of the last village they had passed through, the hamlet with the ferry was two days’ journey from Shiring. Two more days of misery, she thought woefully.

The men shouted over the water, and quite promptly a young man appeared and untied the ferryboat. A brown-and-white dog followed him and jumped into the boat, but the man spoke a word and the dog jumped out again.

Seeming not to care about the rain, he stood in the prow of the vessel and poled across the water. Ragna heard Agnes the seamstress murmur, “Strong boy.”

The boat bumped into the near bank. “Wait for me to tie up before you board,” said the young ferryman. “It’s safer that way.” He was pleasant and polite, but unintimidated by the arrival of a noblewoman with a large escort. He looked directly at Ragna and smiled, as if recognizing her, but she had no recollection of seeing him before.

When he had secured the boat, he said: “It’s a farthing for each person and animal. I see thirteen people and six horses, so that makes four pence and three farthings, if you please.”

Ragna nodded to Cat, who kept a purse on her belt with a small amount of money for incidental expenses. One of the ponies was carrying a locked ironbound chest with most of Ragna’s money in it, but that was opened only in private. Cat gave the ferryman five English pennies, small and light, and he gave her back a tiny quarter-disk of silver in change.

“You can ride straight on board, if you’re careful,” he said. “But if you feel nervous, dismount and lead your horse. I’m Edgar, by the way.”

Cat said: “And this is the lady Ragna, from Cherbourg.”

“I know,” he said. He bowed to Ragna. “I’m honored, my lady.”

She rode onto the boat, and the others followed.

The vessel was remarkably steady on the river, and seemed well made, with close-fitting strakes. There was no water in the bottom. “Fine boat,” Ragna said. She did not add for a dump like this, but it was implied, and for a moment she wondered whether she might have given offense.

But Edgar showed no sign that he had noticed. “You’re very kind,” he said. “I built this boat.”

“On your own?” she said skeptically.

Once again he might have felt slighted. Ragna realized she was forgetting her resolution to befriend the English. This was not like her: normally she was quick to bond with strangers. The wretchedness of the journey and the strangeness of the new country had made her short-tempered. She resolved to be nice.

But Edgar apparently did not feel put down. He smiled and said, “There aren’t two boatbuilders in this little place.”