She reached the cart and the procession stopped. She stared at Wilf: his eyes were closed.

She hitched up her skirts and leaped onto the cart. Kneeling beside Wilf she leaned over him, touched his face, and looked at his closed eyes. His face was deathly pale. She could not tell whether he was breathing. “Wilf,” she said. “Wilf.”

There was no response.

He was lying on a stretcher placed on top of a pile of blankets and cushions. Ragna scanned his body. The shoulders of his tunic were dark with old blood. She looked more closely at his head and saw that it seemed misshapen. He had a swelling, or perhaps more than one, on his skull. He had suffered a head injury. That was ominous.

She looked at the outriders but they said nothing and she could not read their expressions. Perhaps they did not know whether he was alive or dead.

“Wilf,” she said. “It’s me, Ragna.”

The corners of his mouth were touched by the ghost of a smile. His lips opened and he murmured: “Ragna.”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s me. You’re alive, thank God!”

He opened his mouth to speak again. She leaned closer to hear. He said: “Am I home?”

“Yes,” she said, weeping. “You’re home.”

“Good.”

She looked up. Everyone seemed to be waiting. She realized she was the one who must decide what should be done next.

In the next instant she realized something more: while Wilwulf was incapacitated, whoever had his body also had his power.

“Drive the cart to my house,” she said.

The carter cracked his whip and the ox lumbered forward. The cart was drawn across the compound to Ragna’s house. Cat, Agnes, and Bern stood at the door, and Osbert was half hiding in Cat’s skirts. The escort dismounted, and the four men gently picked up the stretcher and Wilf.

“Stop!” said Gytha.

The four men stood still and looked at her.

She said: “He must go to my house. I will take care of him.”

She had come to the same realization as Ragna, but not so quickly.

Gytha gave Ragna an insincere smile and said: “You have so much else to do.”

Ragna said: “Don’t be ridiculous.” She could hear the venom in her own voice. “I am his wife.” She turned to the four men. “Take him inside.”

They obeyed Ragna. Gytha said no more.

Ragna followed them in. They put the stretcher down in the rushes on the floor. Ragna knelt beside him and touched his forehead: he was too warm. “Give me a bowl of water and a clean rag,” she said without looking up.

She heard little Osbert say: “Who’s that man?”

“This is your father,” she said. Wilf had been away for almost half a year and Osbert had forgotten him. “He would kiss you, but he’s hurt.”

Cat put a bowl on the floor beside Wilf and handed Ragna a cloth. Ragna dipped the cloth in the water and dampened Wilf’s face. After a minute she thought he looked relieved, though that might have been her imagination.