Gilda the kitchen maid appeared with a loaf of bread, fresh butter, eggs, and salt, and they all fell on the food as if starving.

Ragna needed to rebuild her household, and she decided to start with Gilda. “Would you like to come and work for me?” she said as Gilda was leaving. “And your daughter, Winthryth, too, perhaps?”

Gilda smiled. “Yes, please, my lady.”

“I haven’t any money to pay you now, but I will soon.” Before too long a courier would arrive from Normandy.

“That’s all right, my lady.”

“I’ll speak to the kitchenmaster later. Don’t say anything to anyone for the moment.”

All Ragna’s possessions seemed to be here. Her robes were on pegs around the walls, and looked as if they had been aired. Most of the chests seemed to be here, with her brushes and combs, scented oils, belts and shoes, and even her jewelry. Only her money was missing.

She was going to see the kitchenmaster, a mere servant, but she needed to assert her authority right from the start. She put on a silk dress in a rich dark brown color and tied a gold-colored sash around her middle. She chose a tall pointed hat. She picked out a jeweled headband to secure the hat, and added a pendant and an arm ring.

She walked across the compound with her head held high.

Everyone was interested to see her and curious about how she looked. She met the eyes of each person she passed, determined not to appear cowed by her ill-treatment. People were at first unsure how to react, then they decided to play it safe and bow to her. She spoke to several and they responded warmly. She guessed they might look back nostalgically to the times when Wilwulf and Ragna ruled the compound: it was unlikely that Wigelm had been equally congenial.

The kitchenmaster was called Bassa. She walked up to him and said: “Good morning to you, Bassa.”

He looked startled. “Good morning,” he said, then after a brief hesitation, he added: “My lady.”

“Gilda and Winthryth are coming to work at my house,” she said in a tone that did not invite discussion.

Bassa was uncertain, but just said: “Very good, my lady.” People never got in trouble for saying that.

“They can begin tomorrow morning,” Ragna said in a softer voice. “That will give you time to make other arrangements.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Ragna left the kitchen, feeling better. She was behaving like a powerful noblewoman, and people were treating her as such.

As she returned to her house, Sheriff Den appeared, followed by two of his men. “You need bodyguards,” he said.

It was true. After the death of Bern had left her unprotected, it had been easy for Wigelm to kidnap her quietly in the middle of the night. She wanted never to be so vulnerable again.

Den said: “I’m lending you Cadwal and Dudoc until you’re able to hire your own.”

“Thank you.” Ragna was struck by a thought. “Where will I find bodyguards for hire, I wonder?”