“That’s all right,” said Wynstan. “You can leave it to me.” He walked away.

This conversation is not finished, Ragna thought.

When the guests could eat no more, and the barrels were dry, people began to drift away. At last Ragna began to relax, and sat down with a dish of roast pork and cabbage. While she was eating, Edgar the builder approached, greeted her politely, and bowed. “I believe my work on your house is finished, my lady,” he said. “With your permission, I will return to Dreng’s Ferry with Dreng tomorrow.”

“Thank you for what you’ve done,” she said. “It’s made the place much more comfortable.”

“I’m honored.”

She called Edgar’s attention to Dunnere the carpenter, who had passed out with his head on a table. “There’s my problem,” she said.

“I’m sorry to see that.”

“Did you enjoy the ceremony today?”

He looked thoughtful, and said: “No, not really.”

That surprised her. “Why?”

“Because I’m envious.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Of Wilf?”

“No—”

“Of me?”

He smiled. “Much as I admire the ealdorman, I don’t want to marry him. Aldred might.”

Ragna giggled.

Edgar became serious again. “I’m envious of anyone who gets to marry the one they love. That chance was snatched away from me. Now weddings make me sad.”

Ragna was only a little surprised by his candor. Men often confided in her. She encouraged it: she was fascinated by other people’s loves and hates. “What was the name of the woman you loved?”

“Sungifu, called Sunni.”

“You remember her, and all the things you did together.”

“What hurts me most is the things we didn’t do. We never cooked a meal together, washing vegetables, throwing herbs into the pot, putting bowls on our table. I never took her fishing in my boat—the boat I built was beautiful, that’s why the Vikings stole it. We made love many times, but we never lay awake in each other’s arms all night just talking.”

She studied his face, with its sparse beard and hazel eyes, and thought he was terribly young to have such grief. “I think I understand,” she said.

“I remember my parents taking us to the river in spring to cut fresh rushes for the house, when we three boys were little. There must have been some romantic story about that riverside, with its rushes; perhaps my parents had made love there before they got married. I didn’t think of that at the time—I was too young—but I knew they had a delicious secret that they loved to remember.” His smile was a sad smile. “Things like that—you put them all together, and they make up a life.”

Ragna was surprised to find that she had tears in her eyes.

Edgar suddenly looked embarrassed. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”

“You’ll find someone else to love.”

“I could, of course. But I don’t want someone else. I want Sunni. And she’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s unkind of me to tell sad stories on your wedding day. I don’t know what got into me. I apologize.” He bowed, and walked away.