“Wilf’s love.”

Ragna gave him a skeptical look. What did he know about love?

Aldred read her mind. “Oh, I realize everyone thinks monks are ignorant of love and marriage, but it’s not quite true. Besides, anyone with eyes can see how much Wilf loves you. It’s frankly embarrassing. He stares at you all the time. His hands are itching to touch you.”

Ragna nodded. After they were married, she somehow stopped feeling embarrassed by this.

“He adores you, he worships you,” Aldred went on. “That makes you stronger than all the others put together.”

“I don’t see what good it does me. Wilf has still brought his first wife to live next door to me.”

“That’s not the end, it’s the beginning.”

“I just don’t understand what you want me to do.”

“First, don’t lose his love. I can’t tell you how to keep it, but I’m sure you know.”

I do, Ragna thought.

“Impose your will,” Aldred went on. “Pick small fights with Gytha and Wynstan and Inge, and win small victories, then larger. Let everyone know that in a conflict, Wilf’s first instinct will always be to support you.”

Like the argument about Wigelm’s house, she thought, or the one about Dunnere the carpenter.

“And build up your strength. Develop allies. You’ve got me, but you need more—all you can get. Men of power.”

“Such as Sheriff Den.”

“Very good. And Bishop Elfheah of Winchester: he hates Wynstan, so make Elfheah your friend.”

“You sound as if you’re talking about war, not marriage.”

Aldred shrugged. “I’ve spent twenty years living with monks. A monastery is awfully like a big, powerful family: rivalry, jealousy, squabbling, hierarchy—and love. And it’s hard to escape from. I’m glad when I see trouble coming, because I can deal with it. The real danger comes from surprises.”

They sat in silence for a minute, then Ragna said: “You’re a good friend.”

“I hope so.”

“Thank you.” She stood up, and Aldred did the same.

He said: “Have you spoken to Wilf yet about Inge?”

“No. I’m still not sure what to say.”

“Whatever you do, don’t leave him feeling guilty.”

Ragna felt herself flush with indignation. “Why on earth not? He deserves to feel guilty.”

“You don’t want to become the person who makes him unhappy.”

“But that’s outrageous. He should be unhappy about what he has done to me.”

“Of course he should. But pointing it out won’t help you.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

They left the cathedral and turned in opposite directions. Ragna was thoughtful as she walked up the hill to the compound. She began to see sense in Aldred’s last remarks. She should not be a sad, defeated person this morning. She was Wilf’s choice, his bride, the woman he loved. She had to walk and talk like a winner.

She returned to her house. It would soon be time for the midday meal. She got Cat to comb and arrange her hair, then she selected her favorite dress, made of a silk the rich color of autumn leaves. She put on a necklace of amber beads. Then she went to the great hall and took her usual place on Wilf’s right hand.