“If the baby gets stuck, both mother and child usually die.”

“Pray for that. We need Garulf to inherit from Wilf. It’s the only way to hold on to everything we’ve won.”

“You’re right, of course.” Gytha made a sour face. “Although Garulf is not the wisest of men. Fortunately we can control him.”

“He’s popular. The men-at-arms like him.”

“I’m not sure why.”

“He’s always willing to buy a barrel of ale and let them take turns raping a prisoner.”

His mother gave him that look again. But her scruples were disposable. In the end she would do what was necessary for the family.

The screaming stopped. Wynstan and Gytha fell silent and waited, tense. Wynstan began to think his wish had come true.

Then they heard the unmistakable wail of a newborn. “It’s alive,” Wynstan said. “Hell.”

A minute later the door opened and a fifteen-year-old maid called Winthryth, daughter of Gilda, poked her head in, her hair wet with rain. “It’s a boy,” she said, grinning happily. “Strong as a bull calf and a big chin like his father’s.” She disappeared.

Wynstan muttered: “To hell with his damn chin.”

“So, the dice did not roll our way.”

“This changes everything.”

“Yes.” Gytha looked thoughtful. “This calls for a completely new approach.”

Wynstan was taken aback. “Does it?”

“We’ve been looking at this situation the wrong way.”

Wynstan did not see that, but his mother was usually right. “Go on,” he said.

“Our real problem is not Ragna.”

Wynstan raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t it?”

“Wilf is our problem.”

Wynstan shook his head. He did not see what she was getting at. But she was no fool, and he waited patiently to learn what she was thinking.

After a moment she said: “Wilf is so taken with her. He’s never before fallen so hard for a woman. He likes her, he loves her, and she seems to know how to please him in and out of bed.”

“That doesn’t stop him fucking Inge once in a while.”

Gytha shrugged. “A man’s love is never really exclusive. But Inge’s no great threat to Ragna. If Wilf had to choose between the two, he’d pick Ragna in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance Ragna could be seduced into betraying him?”

Gytha shook her head. “She’s fond of that clever boy from Dreng’s Ferry, but nothing will ever come of it. He’s far beneath her.”

Wynstan remembered the boatbuilder from Combe who had moved to the farm at Dreng’s Ferry. He was a person of no importance. “No,” he said dismissively. “If she falls it will be for some good-looking town boy who charms his way up her skirt while Wilf is away fighting Vikings.”

“I doubt it. She’s too smart to jeopardize her position for a dalliance.”

“I agree, unfortunately.”

Winthryth surprised them by reappearing in the doorway, wetter than before but beaming even more. “And another boy!” she said.

Gytha said: “Twins!”

“This one smaller and dark-haired, but healthy.” Winthryth left.