She was pleased when most of the residents of the compound came to say good-bye to the departing Normans. Although some of the English had at first been wary of the foreigners, that had quickly faded, and friendships had flourished.

As they were preparing to start the long journey home, the seamstress, Agnes, came to Ragna in tears. “Madame, I am in love with the Englishman Offa,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to leave.”

Ragna was only surprised that it had taken Agnes this long to make up her mind. The signs of the romance had been obvious. She looked around and caught the eye of Offa. “Come here,” she ordered him.

He stood in front of her. He would not have been Ragna’s choice. He had the heavy look and flushed skin of someone who ate and drank a little too well. The broken nose was perhaps not his fault, but all the same Ragna felt he looked untrustworthy. However, he was Agnes’s choice, not Ragna’s.

Agnes was small and Offa was large, and as they stood side by side they looked faintly comic. Ragna had to smother a smile.

She said: “Do you have something to say to me, Offa?”

“My lady, I beg permission to ask Agnes to be my wife.”

“You are the reeve of Mudeford.”

“But I have a house in Shiring. Agnes can still take care of your clothes.”

Agnes added hastily: “If you so wish, my lady.”

“I do,” Ragna said. “And I’m glad to give my consent to your marriage.”

They thanked her profusely. Sometimes, Ragna reflected, it was very easy to make people happy.

At last the group moved out. Ragna stood and waved them out of sight.

She would probably never see any of them again.

She did not allow herself to linger on her sense of loss. What did she need to do next? She decided to deal with Dunnere the carpenter. She was not going to put up with his slackness, even if he was Gytha’s nephew.

She returned to her house and sent Bern to fetch Dunnere and his men. To receive them she sat on the kind of seat her father had used for formal occasions, a four-legged stool in the shape of a broad rectangle, with a cushion for comfort.

There were three carpenters: Dunnere, Edric, and Edric’s son Hunstan. She did not invite them to sit. “From now on,” she said, “you will go into the forest once a week to fell trees.”

“What for?” Dunnere said sullenly. “We get wood when we need it.”

“You’re going to have a stockpile, which will reduce delays.”

Dunnere looked mutinous, but Edric said: “That’s a good idea.”

Ragna marked him down as more conscientious than Dunnere.

She said: “What’s more, you’re going to do it on the same day every week—Friday.”

“Why?” said Dunnere. “One day’s as good as another.”

“It’s to help you remember.” In truth it was to help her keep tabs on them.