Aldred’s tone became brisk, as if he had read her thoughts and wanted to change the subject. “There’s something else I need to ask you—another favor.”

“Go ahead.”

“The archbishop of Canterbury is dying, and Wynstan is making a bid to succeed him.”

Ragna shuddered. “The idea of Wynstan as the moral leader of the entire south of England is just obscene.”

“Would you say that to Queen Emma? You know her, she likes you, she would listen to you more than to anyone.”

“You’re right, she’d listen to me,” Ragna said. And there was something Aldred did not know. Ragna could tell the queen that Wynstan had a disease that would slowly drive him mad. That would certainly be enough to prevent his being made archbishop.

But Ragna would never do it. She could not pass her information to Emma or anyone else. Wynstan would easily find out what had blocked his appointment, and there would be reprisals. Wigelm would take Alain away from Ragna, knowing that was the most severe punishment he could inflict.

She looked at Aldred and felt sad. His face showed optimism and determination. He was a good man, but she could not give him what he needed. The evil men always seemed to get their way, she thought: Dreng, Degbert, Wigelm, Wynstan. Perhaps it would always be so, on this earth.

“No,” she said. “I’m too scared of what Wynstan and Wigelm would do to me in revenge. I’m sorry, Aldred, I can’t help you.”

CHAPTER 39

Spring 1006

he craftsmen working on the new stone church stopped for a break at midmorning. The master mason’s daughter, Clothild, brought her father a pot of ale and some bread. Giorgio, a builder from Rome, soaked his bread in ale to soften it before eating.

Edgar was the master’s deputy, and during the break he usually went to the lodge, a lean-to hut, to discuss what orders should be given for the rest of the day. After more than two years of speaking nothing but Norman French, Edgar was now fluent.

Clothild had got into the habit of bringing ale and bread for Edgar, too. Edgar gave some of the bread to his new dog, Coalie, who was black with a whiskered muzzle.

The church was being built on a site that sloped down from west to east, which presented a challenge in itself. In order to keep the floor level throughout, a deep crypt with massive squat pillars would provide a platform to hold up the east end.

Edgar was thrilled by Giorgio’s design. The nave would have two parallel rows of huge semicircular arches supported by mighty pillars, so that people in the side aisles could see the entire width of the church, and a large congregation could watch the Mass. Edgar had never imagined such a bold design, and he was pretty sure no one else in England had either. The French workers were equally startled: this was something brand new.