Giorgio was a thin, grumpy man in his fifties, but he was the most skilled and imaginative builder Edgar had ever known. He sat drawing in the dirt with a stick, explaining how the voussoirs, the stones in the arches, would be carved with molding in such a way that, when they were set side by side, they would look like a series of concentric rings. “Do you understand?” he said.

“Yes, of course,” Edgar said. “It’s extremely clever.”

“Don’t say you understand unless it’s true!” Giorgio said with irritation.

Giorgio often expected to spend a long time explaining things that Edgar grasped immediately. It reminded Edgar of conversations with his father. “You describe things so clearly,” he said, smoothing Giorgio’s feathers.

Clothild handed him a platter with bread and cheese, and he ate hungrily. She sat opposite him. As he continued to discuss the shape of voussoirs with Giorgio, she crossed and uncrossed her knees repeatedly, showing him her strong brown legs.

She was attractive, with an easygoing personality and a trim figure, and she had made it clear that she liked Edgar. She was twenty-one, just five years younger than he. She was lovely, except that she was not Ragna.

He had long ago realized that he did not love as most men did. He seemed to become almost blind to all women but one. He had remained faithful to Sungifu for years after her death. Now he was being true to a woman who had married another man—two other men, in fact. At times he wished he had been made differently. Why should he not marry this likable girl? She would be kind and affectionate to him, as she was with her father. And Edgar would be able to lie between those strong brown legs every night.

Giorgio said: “We draw a half circle on the ground the same size as the arch, draw a radius from the center to the circumference, then place a stone on the circumference so that it is square to the radius. But the sides of the stone, where it butts onto the neighboring voussoirs, must be slightly angled.”

“Yes,” said Edgar. “So we draw two more radii, one on each side, and they give us the correct slant for the edges of the stone.”

Giorgio stared at him. “How did you know that?” he said tetchily.

Edgar needed to be careful not to offend Giorgio by knowing too much. Builders jealously guarded what they called the “mysteries” of their craft. “You told me, awhile ago,” Edgar lied. “I remember everything you tell me.”

Giorgio was mollified.

Edgar saw two monks walking across the site. They were looking around openmouthed, probably never having seen a church as large as this one would be. Something about them made Edgar think they were English. But the older one spoke Norman French. “Good day to you, master mason,” he said courteously.

“What do you want?” said Giorgio.

“We’re looking for an English builder called Edgar.”