However, Gytha now surprised her by saying something kind. “Do you need any help with your dress and hair, Ragna? I’m ready, and I’ll be happy to send you one or two of my maids if you like.”

“I don’t need extra help, but thank you for being so thoughtful,” Ragna said. She meant it: Gytha was the fourth in-law to call on her this morning, but the first to say something nice. Ragna had not yet succeeded in winning the affections of her husband’s family, a project she had thought would be easier.

When Dreng limped in she almost groaned aloud.

The ferryman wore a cone-shaped hat that was so tall it looked comical. “I just dropped by to pay my respects to the lady Ragna on this auspicious morning,” he said, bowing low. “We’re already acquainted, aren’t we, cousin-in-law to be? You honored my humble alehouse with a visit on your journey here. Good morning, cousin Wigelm, I hope I see you well; and you, cousin Milly; and the lady Gytha—I never know whether to call you cousin or aunt.”

“More distant than either,” said Gytha sourly.

Ragna noted that Dreng was not warmly received by the family, no doubt because he so obviously exaggerated his closeness to them as a way of enhancing his own status.

Dreng pretended to misunderstand Gytha. “It is a long way to come, thank you for your concern, and of course I have a bad back—a Viking knocked me off my horse at the battle of Watchet, you know—but I couldn’t possibly miss this great occasion.”

Wilf walked in, and suddenly Ragna felt that all was well. He took her in his arms and kissed her passionately in front of everyone. He adored her, and the unfriendliness of his family meant nothing.

She broke the embrace, panting, and tried not to look triumphant.

Wilf said: “The clouds have blown away and the sky is blue. I was afraid we might have to move the banquet indoors, but now I think we can eat outside as planned.”

Dreng nearly burst with excitement. “Cousin Wilf!” he said, his voice breaking into a falsetto bleat. “I hope I see you well, such a pleasure to be here, I offer you a thousand congratulations, your bride is an angel, indeed an archangel!”

Wilf gave a nod of patient tolerance, as if to acknowledge that although Dreng was a fool he was family. “I welcome you, Dreng, but I think this house is getting crowded. My bride needs time to herself as she prepares for the wedding. Out, all of you, come on!”

It was exactly what Ragna wanted him to say, and she smiled in gratitude.

The family trooped out. Before Wilf went he kissed her again, longer this time, until she felt they were in danger of starting the honeymoon right there and then. Finally he pulled away, breathing hard. “I’ll welcome the guests,” he said. “Bar the door and give yourself an hour of peace.” He went out.