“I’m at your service, my lady.”

Ragna left Hildi and went back inside the house. “She says you can have your dinner in the great hall,” Ragna said to Wilf. “Would you like to?”

“Of course!” he said. “Where else would I have it?”

He had not dined in the great hall for almost a year, but Ragna did not correct him. She helped him get dressed then took his arm and walked him the short distance across the compound.

The midday meal was already under way. Ragna noticed that both Bishop Wynstan and Dreng were at the table. As Wilf and Ragna entered, the sound of talk and laughter quietened and then stopped as people stared in surprise: no one had been forewarned of Wilf’s reappearance. Then there was applause and cheering. Wynstan stood up, clapping, and finally everyone stood.

Wilf smiled happily.

Ragna took him to his usual chair, then sat beside him. Someone poured him a cup of wine. He drank it down and asked for more.

He ate heartily and guffawed at all the usual jokes the men made, seeming like his old self. Ragna knew this was an illusion that would not survive any attempt at serious conversation, and she found herself trying to protect him. When he said something foolish she laughed, as if he were just being amusing; and if it was extremely foolish she hinted that he was drinking too much. It was amazing how much idiocy could be passed off as men’s drunken humor.

Toward the end of the meal he became amorous. He put his hand under the table and stroked her thigh through the wool of her dress, moving slowly higher.

Here it comes, she thought.

Even though she had not held a man in her arms for almost a year, she was dismayed by the prospect. But she would do it. This was her life now, and she had to get used to it.

Then Carwen came in.

She must have slipped away from the dinner table and gone to change her clothes, Ragna thought, for now she was wearing a black dress that made her look older and red shoes that would have suited a whore. She had washed her face, too, and now she glowed with youthful health and vigor.

She caught Wilf’s eye immediately.

He smiled broadly, and then looked puzzled, as if trying to remember who she was.

Standing in the doorway she smiled back, then turned to leave, and with a slight motion of her head invited him to follow.

Wilf looked unsure. So he should, Ragna thought. He is sitting next to the wife who has cared for him constantly for the last five months; he can hardly walk away from her to chase a slave girl.

Wilf stood up.

Ragna stared at him with her mouth open, horrified. She could not conceal her distress: this was too much. I can’t bear it, she thought.

“Sit down, for God’s sake,” she hissed. “Don’t be a fool.”