Wignoth looked scared. “One of the other beasts must have kicked her.”

Ragna looked at the other horses. They were a sorry lot. “Which of these feisty creatures do you suspect?” she said sarcastically.

His voice took on a pleading tone. “All horses kick sometimes.”

Ragna looked around. Her eye fell on a box of tools. Horses’ hooves were protected by iron shoes nailed to their feet. One of the tools was a short, heavy wooden mallet. Her instinct told her that Wignoth had hit Astrid’s foreleg with the mallet. But she could not prove it.

“Poor horse,” she said quietly to Astrid. Then she turned to Wignoth. “If you can’t keep the horses safe, you can’t be in charge of the stable,” she said to him coldly.

He looked mulishly obstinate, as if he felt he was unjustly treated.

Ragna needed time to think. She said to Bern and Cat: “Stay here. Don’t unload the horses.” She left the stable and headed for her own house.

Edgar followed her.

As they passed the pond, she said to him: “That pig Wignoth deliberately lamed my horse. He must have hit her with his shoeing mallet. The bone isn’t broken, but she’s badly bruised.”

“Why would Wignoth do that?”

“He’s a coward. Someone told him to do it, and he didn’t have the guts to refuse.”

“Who would have given him that order?”

“Wynstan doesn’t want me to go to Outhen. He’s been putting obstacles in my way. He has always collected the rents for Wilf, and he wants to continue to do so for me.”

“And skim off the cream for himself, I suppose.”

“Yes. I suspect he’s already on his way there.”

They went into her house, but she did not sit down. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I hate to give up.”

“Who might help you?”

Ragna recalled her conversation with Aldred about allies. She had some. “Aldred would help me, if he could,” she said. “So would Sheriff Den.”

“The abbey has horses, and so does Den.”

Ragna was thoughtful. “If I go to Outhen now there will be a confrontation. Wynstan is very determined: I fear he will refuse to let me receive my own rents, and I will have to find a way to enforce the law.”

“In that case you would have to appeal to the shire court.”

She shook her head. Ties of blood could matter more than the letter of the law in Normandy, and she had seen no sign that the legal system in England was any better. “The shire court is presided over by Wilf.”

“Your husband.”

Ragna thought of Inge, and shrugged. Would Wilf side with his wife or his brother? She was not sure. The thought made her sad for a moment, but she shook off the feeling and said something different. “I hate to play the role of moaner.”

Edgar said logically: “Then you must make sure you receive the rents, not Wynstan, and let him be the complainer.”