“I’m glad to welcome you all here. Have you had supper?”

“Yes, thank you, and we’re very tired. Can you give us beds?”

“Of course. Please come with me.”

She led them up a wooden staircase. This was the first building Ragna had seen in England that had an upstairs floor. At the top Agatha turned into a small room lit by a single rush light. There were two beds. One was empty, and in the other was a nun about the same age as Agatha but more rounded, sitting up and looking surprised.

Agatha said: “This is Sister Frith, my deputy.”

Frith stared at Ragna as if she could hardly believe her eyes. There was something in her look that made Ragna think of the way men gazed at her sometimes.

Agatha said: “Get up, Frith. We’re giving up our beds to the guests.”

Frith got out of bed hurriedly.

Agatha said: “Lady Ragna, please take my bed, and your maids can share Frith’s.”

Ragna said: “You’re very kind.”

“God is love,” said Agatha.

“But where will you two sleep?”

“In the dormitory next door, with the other nuns. There’s plenty of room.”

To Ragna’s profound satisfaction the room was pristine. The floor was of bare boards, swept clean. On a table stood a jug of water and a bowl, no doubt for washing: nuns washed their hands a lot. There was also a lectern on which rested an open book. This was clearly a highly literate nunnery. There were no chests: nuns had no possessions.

Ragna said: “This is heavenly. Tell me, Mother Agatha, how did there come to be a convent here on this island?”

“It’s a love story,” said Agatha. “The nunnery was built by Nothgyth, the widow of Lord Begmund. After he died and was buried in the minster, Nothgyth did not wish to remarry, for he was the love of her life. She wanted to become a nun and live near his remains for the rest of her days, so that they would rise together at the Last Judgment.”

“How romantic,” Ragna said.

“Isn’t it?”

“Will you tell young Edgar that he may return to the mainland?”

“Of course. Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll come back and see if there’s anything else you need.”

The two nuns went out. Ragna threw off her cloak and climbed into Agatha’s bed. Cat hung Ragna’s cloak on a peg in the wall. From the leather bag she had brought, she took a small vial of olive oil. Ragna held out her hands and Cat poured a drop of oil on each. Ragna rubbed her hands together.

She made herself comfortable. The mattress was made of linen and stuffed with straw. The only sound was the wash of the river as it bathed the shores of the island. “I’m so glad we discovered this place,” she said.

Agnes said: “Edgar the builder has been a godsend—building up the fire, bringing you hot ale, fetching that little jeweler, and finally bringing us here.”