“How flattering for me.”

“I’m Wilf’s half brother and you’re his widow. If we married, no one could challenge us for the ealdormanry.”

“Us? You’re saying we would rule together? Do you imagine I’m stupid enough to believe you?”

Wigelm looked angry and frustrated. He was telling a completely dishonest story and he was not smart enough to make it even halfway believable. Realizing that Ragna was not so easily fooled, he did not know what to say next. He tried to look as confident and charming as Wilf. “You will come to love me, once we’re married,” he said.

“I will never love you.” How much clearer could she make it? “You are all the bad things about Wilf and none of the good. I hate and loathe you, and that will never change.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, and walked away.

Ragna felt as if she had been in a fight. Wigelm’s proposal had been shocking and his persistence had been brutal. She felt battered and exhausted. She leaned against the side of her house and closed her eyes.

Osbert started to cry. He had got mud in his eye. She picked him up and washed his face with her sleeve, and he was quickly pacified.

She no longer felt shaky. It was strange how the needs of children swamped everything else—for women, at least. No crude English thane was as tyrannical as a baby.

Her breathing returned to normal as she watched the children playing with the water. But once again she did not enjoy the peaceful moment for long. Bishop Wynstan appeared. “My brother Wigelm is very upset,” he said.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Ragna said impatiently. “Don’t pretend he’s lovelorn.”

“We both know that love has nothing to do with this.”

“I’m glad you’re not as stupid as your brother.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not much of a compliment.”

“Take care,” he said with suppressed anger. “You’re not in a strong position to insult me and my family.”

“I’m the ealdorman’s widow, and nothing you can do will change that. My position is strong enough.”

“But Wigelm is in control of Shiring.”

“I’m still lord of the Vale of Outhen.”

“Garulf went there yesterday.”

Ragna was startled. She had not heard about this.

Wynstan went on: “He told the villagers that Wigelm has made him lord of Outhen.”

“They will never accept him. Seric, the headman—”

“Seric is dead. Garulf made Dudda headman.”

“Outhen is mine! It’s in the marriage contract that you negotiated!”

“Wilf had no right to give it to you. It’s been in our family for generations.”

“All the same he did give it to me.”

“He obviously intended a lifetime gift. Wilf’s lifetime, not yours.”

“That’s a lie.”

Wynstan shrugged. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t have to do anything. King Ethelred will appoint the new ealdorman, not you.”

“I thought you might be laboring under that illusion,” Wynstan said, and the seriousness of his tone chilled Ragna. “Let me explain to you what the king has on his mind today. The Viking fleet is still in English waters—they spent the winter at the Isle of Wight instead of returning home. Ethelred has now negotiated a truce with them—for which he must pay twenty-four thousand pounds of silver.”