The others said nothing, and Ragna knew that meant they agreed.

Ragna felt an urge to talk to someone who was not her servant. She wanted a more detached point of view to help her get the calamity into some kind of perspective. She thought of Aldred. He had said: “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Come to the abbey.”

“I’m going to talk to Brother Aldred,” she announced.

Then she recalled that Aldred had had second thoughts and added: “Or just send a message.”

“Bern, go to the abbey,” she said. “Wait. Let me think.” She did not want Aldred to come to the compound. Something held her back from that. Questioning the reason for her instinct, she decided that she did not want people such as Gytha and Inge to know who her allies might be.

So where could she meet Aldred?

The cathedral.

“Ask Aldred to come to the cathedral,” she said. “Tell him I’ll be waiting.” The doors of the big church were rarely locked. “Wait. You can walk there with me.”

She dried her eyes and put a little oil on her face. Agnes fetched her cloak. Ragna put it on and pulled the hood over her head.

She and Bern went out of the compound and down the hill. On the way she kept her head bent and did not speak to anyone: she could not cope with normal conversation. When they reached the square, Bern went to the monastery and Ragna entered the cathedral.

She had been here several times before for services. It was the biggest church she had seen so far in England, with a nave twenty or thirty yards long and about eight yards wide, and everyone in town crammed into it on special days such as Christmas. It was always cold. The stone walls were thick, and she guessed the place was chilly even in summer. Today it was icy. She stood by a carved stone baptismal font and looked around. The small windows dimly lit a colorful interior: red-and-black patterned floor tiles, wall tapestries of biblical scenes, and a large painted wooden sculpture of the Holy Family. Peering through the arch into the chancel she saw a stone altar covered with a white linen cloth. Behind the altar was a wall painting of the Crucifixion in garish blue and yellow.

The storm in her heart eased a little. The gloom and the chill within the massive stone walls gave her a sense of eternity. Earthly troubles were temporary, even the worst of them, the church seemed to say. Her heart beat normally again. She found she could breathe without gasping. She knew her face was still red, despite the oil, but her eyes were dry, and no new tears came.

She heard the door open and close, and a moment later Aldred stood next to her. “You’ve been crying,” he said.

“All night.”

“What on earth has happened?”

“My husband has another wife.”