“You better ask Osmund.”

“All right, I will.” Aldred picked up the book he had brought from Combe and went to Osmund’s room.

He found the abbot sitting up in bed with a pile of cushions behind him. He was not well but he looked comfortable, and Aldred guessed he would be content to stay in bed for the rest of his life, however long or short it might be. “I’m sorry to see you indisposed, my lord abbot,” said Aldred.

Osmund sighed. “God in his wisdom has not granted me the strength to carry on.”

Aldred was not sure it had been entirely God’s decision, but all he said was: “The Lord is all wise.”

“I must rely on younger men,” Osmund said.

Osmund looked faintly embarrassed. Like Godleof, he seemed to be burdened with something he might have preferred not to say. Aldred had a premonition of bad news. He said: “Are you perhaps thinking of appointing an acting abbot to manage the monastery during your illness?” It was an important point. The monk who was made acting abbot now had the best chance of becoming abbot when Osmund died.

Osmund did not answer the question, which was ominous. “The problem with young men is that they make trouble,” he said. This was obviously a dig at Aldred. “They are idealistic,” he went on. “They offend people.”

It was time to stop tiptoeing around. Aldred said bluntly: “Have you already appointed someone?”

“Hildred,” said Osmund, and he looked away.

“Thank you, my lord abbot,” said Aldred. He threw the book onto Osmund’s bed and left the room.

CHAPTER 20

July 998

ilf was away three months longer than anyone expected, which was one third of the time Ragna had been married to him. There had been one message, six weeks ago, simply saying that he was penetrating deeper into Wales than he had originally planned, and that he was in good health.

Ragna missed him. She had grown to like having a man to talk to and discuss problems with and lie down beside at night. The shock of Inge had cast a shadow over that pleasure, but all the same she longed to have Wilf back.

Ragna saw Inge around the compound almost every day. Ragna was the official wife, and she held her head high and avoided speaking to her rival; but all the same she felt the humiliation constantly.

She wondered nervously how Wilf would feel about her when he returned. He would probably have lain with other women during his trip. He had made it brutally clear to her—not before the wedding, but after—that his love for her did not exclude sex with others. Had he met younger, more beautiful girls in Wales? Or would he return hungry for Ragna’s body? Or both?

She got one day’s notice of his return. He sent a messenger ahead on a fast horse to say he would be home tomorrow. Ragna threw the compound into action. The kitchen prepared a feast, slaughtering a young ox, building a fire for spit-roasting, tapping barrels of ale, baking bread. Those not needed in the kitchen were deployed mucking out the stables, putting new rushes and straw on the floors, beating mattresses and airing blankets.