“Nothing could be done to save her,” said Hildi. “We prayed for her, but our prayers were not answered.”

“Tell me how she died,” he said lugubriously. “The truth, please, I don’t want comfortable illusions.”

“Very well, my lord bishop. At first she was tired and suffered headaches. Then she became confused. She developed a large lump on her face. Finally she lost her mind. At the end she caught a fever and died.”

The list was horrifying. Most of the same symptoms had been mentioned by Wigferth.

Wynstan suppressed the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. “Did anyone visit Agnes during her illness?”

“No, my lord bishop. They were frightened of catching the disease.”

“Who did you talk to about her symptoms?”

“No one, my lord bishop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

Wynstan suspected that she was lying. He decided to spring a surprise. “Did she have Whore’s Leprosy?” He saw just a flicker of fear in Hildi’s expression.

“There is no such disease, my lord bishop, to the best of my knowledge.”

She had recovered quickly, but he had seen the reaction, and now he was sure she was lying. But he decided not to say so. “Thank you for consoling me in my grief,” he said. “You may go now.”

Hildi seemed very self-possessed, he thought as she went out. “She doesn’t seem the type of woman to spread scandalous gossip,” he said to Ithamar.

“No.”

“But she told someone.”

“She’s friendly with the lady Ragna.”

Wynstan shook his head doubtfully. “Ragna and Agnes hated each other. Ragna sentenced Agnes’s husband to death, then Agnes took revenge by warning me of Ragna’s attempt to escape.”

“Could there have been a deathbed reconciliation?”

Wynstan considered that. “It’s possible,” he said. “Who would know?”

“Her French maid, Cat.”

“Is Ragna here in Shiring right now?”

“No, she went to Outhenham.”

“Then I shall go and see Cat.”

“She won’t tell you anything.”

Wynstan smiled. “Don’t you be so sure.”

He left his residence and walked up the hill to the ealdorman’s compound. He felt energized. For the moment his mind was clear of the confusion that sometimes afflicted him nowadays. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that there was a link from Agnes through Hildi and Ragna to Wigferth of Canterbury.

Wigelm was still away from home, and the compound was quiet. Wynstan went straight to Ragna’s house and found the three maids taking care of the children.

“Good day to you,” he said. The prettiest of the three was the important one, he knew, but he could not remember her name.

She looked at him with fear. “What do you want?” she said.

Her French accent reminded him who she was. “You’re Cat,” he said.

“The lady Ragna isn’t here.”

“That’s a shame, because I came to thank her.”

Cat looked slightly less fearful. “Thank her?” she said skeptically. “What did she do for you?”

“She visited my dear Agnes on her deathbed.”