Thane Deorman’s great hall was richly furnished with wall hangings and blankets and cushions. His servants were preparing the table for a lavish midday meal, and there was a powerful aroma of roasting meat. Deorman was a middle-aged man with failing eyesight, unable to join Wilwulf in fighting the Vikings. Nevertheless, with him he had two women in brightly colored dresses who seemed too fond to be merely servants, and Aldred wondered disapprovingly what their exact status was. At least six small children ran in and out of the house, playing some game that involved much high-pitched squealing.

Deorman ignored the children and did not respond to the women’s touches and smiles, but gave his affection to a large black dog that sat beside him.

Aldred got right to the point. “I was sorry to hear of the death of your dear wife, Godgifu. May her soul rest in peace.”

“Thank you,” said Deorman. “I have two other women, but Godgifu was with me for thirty years, and I miss her.”

Aldred did not comment on Deorman’s polygamy. That might be a discussion for another time. Today he had to focus on his target. He spoke in a deeper, more emotional tone. “The monks of Dreng’s Ferry would be glad to give solemn daily prayers for the dear lady’s immortal soul, if you should wish to commission us.”

“I have a cathedral full of priests praying for her right here in Norwood.”

“Then you are truly blessed, or rather she is. But I’m sure you know that the prayers of celibate monks carry more weight, in that other world that awaits us all, than those of married priests.”

“So people say,” Deorman conceded.

Aldred changed his tone and became more brisk. “As well as Norwood, you’re lord of the little hamlet of Southwood, which has an iron mine.” He paused. It was time to make his request specific. With a quick, silent prayer of hope he said: “Would you consider making a pious gift of Southwood and its mine to the priory, in memory of Lady Godgifu?”

He held his breath. Would Deorman pour scorn on such a demand? Would he burst out laughing at Aldred’s effrontery? Would he be offended?

Deorman’s response was mild. He looked startled, but also amused. “That’s a bold request,” he said noncommittally.

“Ask, and it shall be given you, Jesus told us; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” Aldred often remembered this verse from Matthew’s Gospel when he was soliciting gifts.

“You certainly don’t get much in this world if you don’t ask,” Deorman said. “But that mine makes me a lot of money.”

“It would transform the fortunes of the priory.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Deorman had not said no, but there was a negative undertone, and Aldred waited to find out what the problem was.

“How many monks are there at your priory?” Deorman asked after a moment.

He was playing for time, Aldred thought. “Eight, including me.”