They scurried off.

Gilda said: “Thank you, my lady. I’m glad to see the backs of those two.”

Ragna went to her house and turned her mind back to the Vale of Outhen. She decided to ride there on the eve of Lady Day. It was a morning’s journey. She would spend the afternoon talking to villagers, then hold court the following morning.

One day before she was due to leave, Wignoth came to her, bringing the smell of the stables into her house. He looked insincerely mournful and said: “The road to Outhenham has been washed out by a flood.”

She stared hard at him. He was a big man, but awkward. She said: “Is it completely impassable?”

“Yes, completely,” he said. He was not a good liar, and he looked shifty.

“Who told you that?”

“Um, the lady Gytha.”

Ragna was not surprised. “I shall go to Outhenham,” she said. “If there’s a flood I’ll find a way around it.”

Wynstan seemed determined to prevent her visit, she reflected. He had recruited both Gytha and Wignoth to dissuade her. That made her all the more determined to go.

She was expecting Edgar from Dreng’s Ferry that day, but he did not arrive. She was disappointed: she felt she needed him to give credence to her accusation. Could she charge Gab without Edgar’s testimony? She was not sure.

Next day she got up early.

She dressed in rich fabrics of somber colors, dark brown and deep black, to emphasize her seriousness. She felt tense. She told herself she was simply going to meet her people, something she had done dozens of times before—but never in England. Nothing would be quite as she expected; things never were here, she knew from experience. And it was so important to make a good first impression. Peasants had infuriatingly long memories. It could take years to recover from a false start.

She was pleased when Edgar showed up. He apologized for not appearing the day before but said he had arrived late and gone straight to the abbey for the night. Ragna was relieved that she did not have to confront Gab alone.

They went to the stable. Bern and Cat were loading the packhorse and saddling the old mare and the one-eyed pony. Ragna took Astrid from her stall—and saw immediately that something was wrong.

As the horse walked she was bobbing her head in an unusual way. A moment’s observation revealed that she lifted her head and neck as her left foreleg touched the ground. Ragna knew that this was a horse’s way of reducing the weight bearing on an injury.

She knelt beside Astrid and touched the lower half of the leg with both hands. She palpitated gently at first and then with increasing pressure. When she pressed hard, Astrid twitched and tried to free her leg from Ragna’s grasp.

In this condition the horse could not carry her.

Ragna was furious. She stood up and looked hard at Wignoth. Controlling her anger with an effort she said: “My horse has been injured.”