Ragna said: “Who is she?”

The new head groom, Wuffa, standing in front of Ragna, replied without turning his head. “It’s Gytha’s new slave,” he said, then he shouted: “Scrub her tits!” and the men around him chortled.

Ragna could have stopped the mistreatment of an ordinary young woman, but not a slave. People were entitled to be cruel to slaves. There were some feeble laws against killing a slave for no good reason, but even they were difficult to enforce, and the punishments were mild.

The girl was about thirteen, Ragna saw. Her skin, when the dirt came off, was pale. The hair on her head and between her legs was dark, almost black. She had slender arms and legs and perfect, small breasts. Even though her face was twisted with fury, she was pretty.

Ragna said: “Why would Gytha want a slave girl?”

Wuffa turned to reply, grinning, but he realized who he was talking to and changed his mind. The grin vanished and he muttered: “I don’t know.”

Clearly he did know, but was embarrassed to say.

Wilf appeared out of the great hall and approached the crowd, evidently curious, as Ragna had been. She watched him, wondering how he would react to this. Gytha quickly ordered her companions to stop washing the girl and hold her still for Wilf to look at.

The crowd parted respectfully for the ealdorman to pass. The girl was more or less clean now. Her black hair hung wetly on either side of her face, and her skin glowed with the scrubbing it had suffered. Her scowl seemed only to make her more alluring. Wilf grinned broadly. “Who is this?” he said.

Gytha answered. “Her name is Carwen,” she said. “She’s a gift from me to you, to thank you for being the best stepson a mother could ask for.”

Ragna stifled a cry of protest. This was not fair! She had done everything to please Wilf and keep him loyal, and in the three years they had been married he had been a good deal more faithful than most English noblemen. He slept with Inge now and again, as if for old times’ sake, and he probably lay with peasant girls when he went away, but while he was here he hardly looked at other women. And now all her work was going to be undone by a slave girl—given to him by Gytha! Ragna knew right away that Gytha’s plan was to drive a wedge between her and Wilf.

Wilf stepped forward with his arms outstretched, as if to embrace Carwen.

She spat in his face.

Wilf stopped in his tracks, and the crowd went silent.

A slave could be executed for that. Wilf might well draw his knife and cut her throat on the spot.

He wiped his face with his sleeve, then put his hand on the hilt of the dagger in his belt. He stared at Carwen for a long moment. Ragna could not tell what he would do.