“It’s kind of you.” Wynstan continued to make fun of Den, but in fact he was paying close attention. This kind of threat from a sheriff to a bishop was unusual. Den was serious and he was not without power. He had authority, he had men-at-arms, and he had the ear of the king. Wynstan was only pretending not to care.

But what had prompted this display of menace? Not just the murder of Wilf, Wynstan thought.

In the next second he found out.

Den said: “Keep your hands off the lady Ragna.”

So that was it.

Den went on: “I want you to understand that if she should die, I will come after you, Bishop Wynstan.”

“How dreadful.”

“Not your brother or your nephew or any of your men—you. And I will never give up. I will bring you all the way down. You will live as a leper and die, as lepers do, in misery and filth.”

Despite himself Wynstan was chilled. He was thinking up a sarcastic riposte when Den simply turned around and left the house.

Wigelm said: “I should have ripped his guts open, the arrogant fool.”

Wynstan said: “He’s not a fool, unfortunately. If he was, we could ignore him.”

Gytha commented: “The foreign cat has got her claws into him.”

It was partly that, Wynstan had no doubt—Ragna had the ability to enchant most men—but there was something else. Den had long wanted to restrain the power of Wynstan’s family, and the murder of Ragna might provide him with a strong enough pretext, especially if it followed quickly after a power grab by Wynstan.

His ruminations were interrupted by Garulf’s bone headed friend Stiggy, who burst in, breathing hard, excited. He had gone with the hue and cry, under instructions from Wynstan, who had told him to race home ahead of the group if Carwen should be recaptured, a task so simple that even Stiggy could hardly fail to understand it.

“They got her,” he said now.

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Shame.” It was time for the contingency plan. Wynstan got to his feet, and Wigelm and Garulf did the same. “Where was she?”

“In the woods this side of Trench. The dogs sniffed her out.”

“Did she say anything?”

“A lot of Welsh cursing.”

“How far behind you are they now?”

“At least an hour.”

“We’ll meet them on the road.” Wynstan looked at Garulf. “You know the plan.”

“I do.”

They went to the stables and saddled four horses, one each for Wynstan, Wigelm, and Garulf, plus a fresh mount for Stiggy; then they set out.

Half an hour later they came upon the hue and cry, now relaxed and triumphant. Wigbert, the sheriff’s quick-tempered captain, led the group, with Carwen stumbling along behind his horse, roped to his saddle, hands tied behind her back.

Wynstan said quietly: “All right, men, you know what you have to do.”

The four horsemen spread across the road in a line and reined in, forcing the hue and cry to halt. “Congratulations, everyone,” Wynstan said heartily. “Well done, Wigbert.”