Wilf pointed to the band on his arm. It glinted in the firelight.

“Very attractive,” said Gytha without warmth. “Silver is always good value.” It was cheaper than gold, she was implying.

Ragna ignored the jibe. “And now, Wilf, I must ask you for something.”

“Anything, my beloved.”

“You’ve put me in a very poor house.”

He was startled. “Have I?”

His surprise confirmed Ragna’s suspicion that he had left this to Gytha. Ragna said: “It has no window, and the walls let in the cold air at night.”

Wilf looked at Gytha. “Is this true?”

She said: “It’s not that bad.”

That answer angered Wilf. “My fiancée deserves the best of everything!” he said.

“It’s the only house available,” Gytha protested.

Ragna said: “Not quite.”

“There is no other empty house,” Gytha insisted.

“But Wigelm doesn’t really need a house for himself and his men-at-arms,” Ragna said in a tone of gentle rationality. “His wife isn’t even here. Their home is at Combe.”

Gytha said: “Wigelm is the ealdorman’s brother!”

“And I am the ealdorman’s bride.” Ragna was working hard to suppress her anger. “Wigelm is a man, with a man’s simple needs, but I am a bride preparing for my wedding day.” She turned her gaze to Wilf. “Which of us do you wish to favor?”

There was only one possible answer a bridegroom could make. “You, of course,” he said.

“And after the wedding,” she said, holding Wilf’s gaze, “I will be closer to you at night, for Wigelm’s house is right next door.”

He smiled. “That clinches it.”

Wilf had made up his mind, and Gytha gave in. She was too wise to argue when she had already lost. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll swap Ragna and Wigelm.” She could not resist adding: “Wigelm won’t like it.”

Wilf said crisply: “If he complains, just remind him which brother is the ealdorman.”

Gytha bowed her head. “Of course.”

Ragna had won, and Wilf was displeased with Gytha. Ragna decided to push her luck. “Forgive me, Wilf, but I need both houses.”

Gytha said: “What on earth for? No one has two houses.”

“I want my men nearby. At present they’re lodged in the town.”

Gytha said: “Why do you need men-at-arms?”

Ragna gave her a haughty look. “It is my preference,” she said. “And I am about to be the ealdorman’s wife.” She turned her face to Wilf.

Now he was losing patience. “Gytha, give her what she wants, and no more arguments.”

“Very well,” said Gytha.

“Thank you, my love,” said Ragna, and she kissed him again.

CHAPTER 12

Mid−October 997

n the day of the hundred court, Edgar was nervous but determined.

The hundred of Dreng’s Ferry consisted of five small settlements, widely scattered. Bathford was the largest village, but Dreng’s Ferry was the administrative center, and the dean of the minster traditionally presided over the court.

Court was held every four weeks. It took place out of doors, regardless of the weather, but today happened to be bright, though cold. The big wooden chair was positioned outside the west end of the church, and a small table was set beside it. Father Deorwin, the oldest priest, brought from underneath the altar the pyx. Made by Cuthbert, this was a round, silver container with a hinged lid, its sides engraved with images of the Crucifixion. It held a consecrated wafer from the Mass, and it would be used today for administering oaths.