Ragna’s sons were having a snowball fight. The twins, four years old, were ganging up on Osbert, who was six. Alain, two years old and toddling, was screaming with laughter.

Ragna’s small household watched with her: Cat, Gilda, Winthryth, and Grimweald, the bodyguard. Grimweald was no use: as one of Wigelm’s men-at-arms, he probably would not protect Ragna from the person most likely to attack her.

However, this was a happy moment. All four boys were in good health. Osbert was already learning to read and write. This was not the life Ragna had wanted, and she yearned for Edgar still, but she had things to be thankful for.

When Wigelm became ealdorman he no longer wanted to be bothered with the detailed administration of Combe, so Ragna deputized, and in practice she was reeve of Combe and of Outhen; although Wigelm still visited and held court.

Wigelm appeared now, accompanied by a young concubine, Meganthryth. They stood beside Ragna, watching the boys play. Ragna did not speak to Wigelm or even look at him. Her loathing of him had only deepened in the two years they had been husband and wife. He was both cruel and stupid.

Fortunately she did not have to be with him much. Most nights he got drunk and was carried to bed. When sober enough he spent the night with Meganthryth, who nevertheless had borne him no children. Occasionally the old desire overcame him and he visited Ragna. She did not resist him, but closed her eyes and thought about something else until he had finished. Wigelm enjoyed sex against the woman’s will, but he disliked indifference, and Ragna’s apparent apathy helped to discourage him.

Osbert threw a large snowball wildly and it hit Alain full in the face. The little boy was shocked, and he burst into tears and ran to Ragna. She wiped his cheeks with her sleeve and comforted him.

Wigelm said: “Don’t be a crybaby, Alain. It’s only snow, it doesn’t hurt.”

His harsh tone made Alain sob harder.

Ragna muttered: “He’s only two.”

Wigelm did not like arguments: he was better at fights. “Don’t mollycoddle the boy,” he said. “I don’t want a namby-pamby son. He’s going to be a warrior, like his father.”

Ragna prayed every day that Alain would grow up to be as different as possible from his father. But she said no more: discussion with Wigelm was profitless.

“Don’t you start teaching him to read,” Wigelm added. Wigelm himself could not read. “That’s for priests and women.”

We’ll see about that, Ragna thought, but she said nothing.

“You raise him right,” Wigelm said. “Or else.” He walked away, and his concubine trailed after him.

Ragna felt chilled. What did he mean by or else?

She saw Hildi the midwife approaching across the snowy compound. Ragna was always pleased to speak to her. She was a wise old woman, and her medical skill extended much beyond childbirth.

Hildi said: “I know you don’t like Agnes.”

Ragna stiffened. “I liked her well enough until she turned traitor.”