Ragna let out a long sigh. What a family, she thought: a man like a god, and relatives like a pack of yapping hounds. But she was marrying Wilf, not Wigelm or Dreng or Gytha or Milly.

She sat on a stool for Cat to do her hair. As the maid combed, teased, and pinned, Ragna made herself calm. She knew how to behave at ceremonies: move slowly, smile at everyone, do what you’re told, and if no one tells you what to do, stand still. Wilf had outlined the program to her, and she had memorized every word. She might still make mistakes, not knowing anything about English rituals, but if she did she would just smile and try again.

Cat finished the hairdo with a silk scarf the color of autumn chestnuts. It covered Ragna’s head and neck and was held in place by an embroidered headband. Now Ragna was ready for the dress. She had bathed earlier and was already wearing the plain tan linen underdress, which would hardly be seen. Over it she donned a wool dress in a color between green and blue that seemed to make her eyes brighter. It had flared sleeves, the cuffs of which were embroidered with a geometric pattern in gold thread. Cat put a silver cross on a silk band around Ragna’s neck so that it hung outside the dress. Finally she put on a blue cloak with a gold-colored lining.

When she was fully dressed, Cat stared at her and burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” Ragna said.

Cat shook her head. “Nothing,” she sobbed. “You’re so beautiful.”

There was a knock at the door and a voice called: “The ealdorman is ready.”

Bern said gruffly: “That’s a bit sooner than expected!”

“You know Wilf,” said Ragna. “He’s impatient.” She raised her voice to speak to the man outside. “The bride is ready whenever Wilf cares to come and get her.”

“I’ll tell him.”

A few minutes went by, then there was a banging at the door, and Wilf’s voice said: “The ealdorman comes for his bride!”

Bern picked up the chest containing the dowry. Cat opened the door. Wilf stood outside in a red cloak. Ragna held her head high and walked out.

Wilf took her arm and they walked slowly across the compound to the front of the great hall. A great cheer went up from the waiting crowd. Despite the morning’s showers, the townspeople had dressed up. None but the wealthiest could afford new complete outfits, but most had a new hat or kerchief, and the sea of brown and black was enlivened by celebratory flashes of yellow and red.

Ceremony was important. Ragna had learned from her father that gaining power was easier than keeping it. Conquest could be a matter merely of killing men and entering a stronghold, but holding on to power was never so simple—and appearances were crucial. People wanted their leader to be big and strong and handsome and rich, and his wife to be young and beautiful. Wilf knew this as well as Ragna did, and together they were giving his subjects what they wanted, and thereby consolidating his authority.