“Who is?”

“No one knows.”

Cat said: “We don’t have slaves in Normandy.”

It was still raining. No moon or stars were visible. Ragna could see very little. But Edgar knew his way, and in a short time the ferry nudged a sandy bank. By the light of the lamps Ragna made out a little rowboat tied to a post. Edgar moored the ferry.

“The bank drops off steeply,” he said to the women. “Shall I carry you? It’s only two steps, but you will get your dresses wet.”

Cat answered. “Carry my lady, please,” she said briskly. “Agnes and I will manage.”

Agnes made a disappointed sound, but did not dare to argue with Cat.

Edgar stood in the water beside the boat. It came up to his thighs. Ragna sat on the edge of the boat with her back to him, then turned her body and put an arm around his neck, and finally swung her legs over the side. He took her weight on both arms, supporting her effortlessly.

She found herself enjoying his embrace. She felt a little ashamed: she was in love with another man, and about to marry him—she had no business snuggling up to someone else! But she had a good excuse and it was over in no time. Edgar took two steps through the water then set her down on the bank.

They followed a footpath up a slope. At its end was a large stone building. Its outlines were not clear in the lamplight, but Ragna thought she saw twin gables, and guessed that one marked the church and the other the convent. To the side of the convent was a little tower.

Edgar knocked on the wooden door.

After a while they heard a voice. “Who’s knocking at this time of night?”

Nuns went to bed early, Ragna recalled.

Edgar said: “This is Edgar the builder. I’ve brought the lady Ragna from Cherbourg, who commands your hospitality.”

The door was opened by a thin woman of about forty with pale blue eyes. A few strands of gray hair had escaped from her cap. She held a lantern up and looked at the visitors. When she saw Ragna her eyes widened and her mouth opened. It happened a lot: Ragna was used to it.

The nun stood back and let the three women in. Ragna said to Edgar: “Wait a few minutes, please, just in case.”

The nun closed the door.

Ragna saw a pillared room, dark and empty now, but probably the place where the nuns lived when they were not praying in the church. She made out the shadowy silhouettes of two writing desks, and concluded that these nuns copied and perhaps illuminated manuscripts as well as caring for lepers.

The nun who had let them in said: “I’m Mother Agatha, the abbess here.”

Ragna said amiably: “Named after the patron saint of nurses, I assume?”

“And of rape victims.”

Ragna guessed there was a story there, but she did not want to hear it tonight. “These are my maids, Cat and Agnes.”