Wilwulf looked angry. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Brother Aldred.”

“I certainly don’t,” Aldred replied, with more sincerity than might have been apparent.

“Then do as I say, and withdraw your support.”

“No.”

Osmund said: “Take time to think about it, Aldred.”

“No.”

Hildred spoke for the first time. “Won’t you submit to authority, as a monk should, and show obedience to your abbot?”

“No,” said Aldred.

Ragna was pregnant.

She had not told anyone yet, but she was sure. Cat probably guessed, but no one else knew. Ragna hugged the secret to herself, a new body growing inside her. She thought about it as she walked around, ordering people to clear, tidy, and repair, keeping the place running, making sure there was nothing to bother Wilf.

It was bad luck to tell people too early, she knew. Many pregnancies ended in spontaneous abortion. In the six years between Ragna’s birth and her brother’s, their mother had suffered several miscarriages. Ragna would not make the announcement until the bulge became too large to be hidden by the drape of her dress.

She was thrilled. She had never daydreamed of having a baby, as many girls did, but now that it was happening, she found she longed to hold and love a tiny scrap of life.

She was also pleased to be fulfilling her role in English society. She was a noblewoman married to a nobleman, and it was her job to give birth to heirs. This would dismay her enemies and strengthen her bond with Wilf.

She was scared, too. Childbirth was dangerous and painful, everyone knew that. When a woman died young it was usually because of a difficult delivery. Ragna would have Cat at her side, but Cat had never given birth. Ragna wished her mother were here. However, there was a good midwife in Shiring: Ragna had met her, a calm, competent gray-haired woman called Hildithryth, known as Hildi.

Meanwhile, she was pleased that Wynstan’s sins were at last catching up with him. Forgery was undoubtedly only one of his crimes, but it was the one that had been exposed, and she hoped for a severe punishment. Perhaps the experience would puncture the bishop’s arrogance. Good for Aldred, she thought, for finding him out.

This would be the first major trial she had attended in England, and she was eager to learn more about the country’s legal system. She knew it would be different from Normandy’s. The biblical principle of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth did not apply here. The punishment for murder was normally a fine paid to the family of the victim. The murder price was called wergild, and it varied according to the wealth and status of the dead man: a thane was worth sixty pounds of silver; an ordinary peasant, ten pounds.

She learned more when Edgar came to see her. She was sorting apples on a table, picking out the bruised ones that would not last the winter, so that she could teach Gilda the kitchen maid the best way to make cider; and she saw Edgar coming through the main gate and across the compound, a sturdy figure with a confident stride.