“I know.”

“Maybe I should buy you.”

Blod’s face lit up with hope. “Would you?”

Ragna spoke to Stiggy. “How much are you hoping to get for this slave?”

“One pound. She’s fifteen, that’s young.”

“It’s too much. I’ll give you half, though.”

“No, she’s worth more than that.”

“Split the difference?”

Stiggy frowned. “How much would that be?” He knew the phrase split the difference but he could not do the arithmetic.

“One hundred and eighty pence.”

Suddenly Wynstan was there. “Buying a slave, my lady Ragna?” he said. “I thought you high-minded Normans disapproved.”

“Like a high-minded bishop who disapproves of fornication, I find myself doing it anyway.”

“Always the smart answer.” He had been looking with curiosity at Blod, and now he said: “I know you, don’t I?”

Blod said loudly: “You fucked me, if that’s what you mean.”

Wynstan looked embarrassed, which was unusual. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You did it twice. That was before I was pregnant, so you paid Dreng three pence for each go.”

Wynstan made only a nominal pretence of priestly virtue, but all the same he was discomfited by this noisily public accusation of unchastity. “Rubbish. You’re making it up. You ran away from Dreng, I remember.”

“He murdered by baby boy.”

“Well, who cares? The child of a slave . . .”

“Perhaps he was your son.”

Wynstan went pale. Clearly he had not thought of that. He struggled to recover his dignity. “You should be flogged for running away.”

Ragna interrupted. “I was in the process of bargaining for this slave, my lord bishop, if you will excuse me from further conversation.”

Wynstan smiled maliciously. “You can’t buy her.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“She can’t be sold.”

Stiggy said: “Yes, she can!”

“No, she can’t. She’s a runaway. She must be returned to her legitimate owner.”

Blod whispered: “No, please.”

“It’s not my decision,” Wynstan said cheerfully. “Even if the slave had not spoken disrespectfully to me, the outcome would be the same.”

Ragna wanted to argue, but she knew Wynstan was right. She had not thought of it, but a runaway still legally belonged to the original owner, even after months of freedom.

Wynstan said to Stiggy: “You must take this girl back to Dreng’s Ferry.”

Blod began to cry.

Stiggy had not understood. “But she’s my captive.”

“Dreng will give you the usual reward for returning a runaway, so you won’t be out of pocket.”

Stiggy still looked puzzled.

Ragna believed in obeying the law. It could be cruel, but it was always better than lawlessness. However, on this occasion she would have defied it if she could. It was a harsh irony that the man now upholding the law was Wynstan.

Ragna said desperately: “I will take charge of the girl, and recompense Dreng.”

“No, no,” said Wynstan. “You can’t do that, not to my cousin. If Dreng wants to sell the slave to you, he may, but she must be returned to him first.”

“I shall take her home, and send a message to Dreng.”