Wynstan pretended to think she was taking caution to ridiculous extremes. “The guests are arriving already!” he said. “The oxen and pigs have been roasting all night. The barrels of ale have been tapped. The bakers have a hundred loaves in the ovens. Do you seriously believe Wilf is going to grab your dowry now and cancel the wedding?”

Ragna smiled sweetly. “I’m going to be your sister-in-law, Wynstan,” she said. “You must learn to trust me.”

Wynstan grunted and left.

Cnebba came back in and took away the stilyard and the weights. As he went out, Wigelm arrived. He had the family big nose and chin, and the same fair hair and mustache, but there was a petulant cast to his face, as if he perpetually felt unfairly treated. He had on the clothes he had worn yesterday, a black tunic and a brown cloak, as if to tell the world that today was not a special day as far as he was concerned. “So, my sister,” he said, “today you lose your virginity.”

Ragna blushed, for she had lost it four months ago.

Fortunately Wigelm misunderstood the cause of her embarrassment. “Ah, don’t be shy,” he said with a lascivious chuckle. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise you.”

You have no idea, Ragna thought.

Wigelm was followed in by a short, voluptuous woman of about his own age, thirty. She was attractive in a plump way, and walked with the sway of a woman who knows she is sexy. She did not introduce herself, and Wigelm made no effort to explain her presence, so Ragna said to her: “I don’t think we’ve met.”

She did not reply, but Wigelm said: “My wife, Milly.”

Ragna said: “I’m glad to see you, Milly.” On impulse she stepped forward and kissed Milly’s cheek. “We are to be sisters,” she said.

Milly’s response was cool. “How strange that is,” she said, “when we hardly speak each other’s language.”

“Oh, anyone can learn a new language,” Ragna said. “All it takes is a little patience.”

Milly looked around the interior of the house. “I was told you had a carpenter in to transform the place,” she said.

“Edgar of Dreng’s Ferry has been working here for the past week.”

“It looks much the same to me.”

It had been a bit decrepit when Milly had been in charge of it, and no doubt this explained Milly’s unfriendliness: she must have felt slighted when Ragna insisted on improvements. Ragna shrugged and said: “Just a few running repairs,” making light of it.

Gytha came in, and Wigelm said: “Good day to you, Mother.” Gytha wore a new dress, dark gray with a red lining that showed in flashes, and her long gray hair was pinned up in an elaborate hat.

Ragna immediately felt wary. Gytha sometimes made the servants laugh by imitating Ragna’s accent. Cat had reported this to her mistress. Ragna had vaguely noticed the women smiling occasionally when she said something not intended to be amusing, and she guessed that her way of speaking had become a joke in the compound. She could live with that, but she was disappointed in Gytha, whom she wanted as a friend.