But he could not go back on his word. He did not even want to. He was sickened by Dreng’s treatment of Blod and he felt he could not let it continue. Perhaps there were principles more important than the rule of law.

He would just have to make sure he did not get caught.

Dreng had been drinking more than usual since the hundred court, and that evening was no exception. By dusk he was slurring his speech. His wives encouraged him, for when he was drunk his punches often missed their target. At nightfall he just about managed to undo his belt and wrap himself in his cloak before passing out in the rushes on the floor.

Leaf always drank a lot. Edgar suspected she did it to make herself unattractive to Dreng. Edgar had never seen the two of them embrace. Ethel was Dreng’s choice for sex when he was sober enough, but that was not often.

Ethel was not as quick as the others to fall asleep, and Edgar listened to her breathing, waiting for it to fall into the steady rhythm of slumber. He was reminded of the night four months ago when he had lain awake in his family’s house at Combe. He felt the pain of grief as he remembered how exciting the future had seemed with Sunni, and how bleak it turned out to be without her.

Both Leaf and Dreng were snoring, Leaf in a steady drone, Dreng in great snorts followed by gasps. At last Ethel’s breathing became regular. Edgar looked across the room at Blod. He could see her face in the firelight. Her eyes were open, and she was waiting for a signal from him.

This was the moment of final decision.

Edgar sat upright, and Dreng moved.

Edgar lay back down.

Dreng stopped snoring, turned over, breathed normally for a minute, then scrambled to his feet. He picked up a cup, filled it from the water bucket, drank, and went back to his place on the floor.

After a while he resumed snoring.

There will never be a better time, Edgar thought. He sat up. Blod did the same.

They both stood up. Edgar’s hearing was alert for any change in the sound made by the sleepers. He lifted his ax off its hook, stepped softly to the door, and glanced back.

Blod had not followed him. She was bending over Dreng. Edgar felt a flash of panic: was she going to kill her tormentor? Did she think she could silently slit his throat and walk away? That would make Edgar a murderer’s accomplice.

In the rushes beside Dreng lay his belt with its attached sheath containing his dagger. It was what he used for general purposes, including to cut up his meat, but it was longer and sharper than Blod’s. Edgar stopped breathing. Blod quietly slid the blade out of the sheath, and Edgar felt sure she was about to stab the killer of her child. She straightened up with the knife in her hand. Then she twisted the hilt of the dagger into the cord she used as a belt and turned toward the door.