Blod was standing beside Ragna, having served her the drink then stayed to chat. “That’s a shame, my lady,” Blod said.

“Not necessarily.” Ragna was determined not to feel defeated. True, nothing had gone the way she planned, but she was going to make the best of things. She still had most of her life ahead of her, and she was going live it to the fullest.

Blod said: “When would you go?”

“Not yet. I need to spend time at Outhenham before I leave. Long term, my idea is to have two good houses, one here and one at Outhenham, and return to England every year or two to keep an eye on my property.”

“Why? You might get someone else to do the work so that you can just sit back and count the money.”

“I couldn’t do that. I always thought it was my destiny to be a ruler, dispensing justice, helping to make a place more prosperous.”

“It’s usually men who rule.”

“Usually, but not always. And I’ve never enjoyed idleness.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

Ragna smiled. “I feel sure you wouldn’t like it.”

Cwenburg, the wife of Erman and Eadbald, walked by with a basket of silvery fish fresh from the pond, some of them still flipping their tails. Ragna guessed she was heading for the house of Bucca Fish. Cwenburg had always been plump, Ragna recalled, but now she was quite fat. In her twenties she had lost the vigorous freshness of youth, and was no longer even mildly attractive. However, Edgar’s brothers seemed content with her. It was an unusual arrangement but it had worked for nine years now.

Cwenburg stopped to speak to Dreng, her father, who was just coming out of a storehouse with a wooden shovel in his hand. It was always a little surprising to see unkind, unpleasant people showing affection, Ragna mused. Then her thoughts were interrupted by an angry shout from inside the alehouse.

A moment later Theodberht hobbled out, fastening his belt. “She’s pregnant!” he said angrily. “I’m not paying a penny for a pregnant whore!”

Dreng came hurrying up, still holding the shovel. “What’s this?” he said. “What’s the matter?”

Theodberht repeated his complaint at the top of his voice.

“I didn’t know that!” said Dreng. “I paid a pound for her at Bristol market and that was not even a year ago.”

“Give me back that penny!” said Theodberht.

“Cursed girl, I’ll teach her a lesson.”

Ragna said: “It’s your fault she’s pregnant, Dreng—don’t you understand that?”

Dreng replied to Ragna with surly formality. “My lady, they only get pregnant if they enjoy the shagging, everyone knows that.” He fumbled in his belt purse and gave Theodberht a silver penny. “Have another cup of ale, my friend, forget about the whore.”

Theodberht took the money with ill grace and walked toward the pasture, whistling to his dog.

“He would have drunk a gallon of ale and stayed the night,” Dreng said sourly. “Might even have paid for another tumble in the morning. Now I’ve lost that money.” He limped inside.