The noise died down as Cwenburg walked away.

Blod looked at Mairead. “You’ll stay and help me, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll teach you to cook. But no more whoring.”

“And you can help me with the baby.”

“Of course.”

Tears came to Mairead’s eyes, and she nodded wordlessly.

“It will be fine,” said Blod. She reached out and took Mairead’s hand. “We’ll be happy.”

Ragna was glad for them, and something else.

After a few moments she figured out what it was.

She was envious.

Every few months Giorgio, the master mason, sent Edgar to Cherbourg to buy supplies. It was a two-day journey, but there was nowhere nearer where they could get iron for making tools, lead for windows, and lime for mortar.

When he left this time, Clothild kissed him and told him to hurry back. He still had not proposed marriage to her, but everyone treated him as if he were already a member of Giorgio’s family. He was not really comfortable with the way he had slipped, by imperceptible steps, into the role of Clothild’s fiancé without a formal decision: it seemed weak. But he was not sufficiently unhappy about it to break away.

A few hours after he arrived in Cherbourg, a messenger found him and ordered him to go and see Count Hubert.

Edgar had met Hubert only once before, on his arrival in Normandy almost three years ago. Hubert had been kind to him then. Glad to hear news of his beloved daughter, he had talked at length to Edgar about life in England, and had advised him of building sites where he might find employment.

Now Edgar again climbed the hill to the castle and marveled anew at its size. It was bigger than Shiring Cathedral, which had previously been the largest building he had ever seen. A servant showed him to a large room on the upstairs floor.

Hubert, now in his fifties, was at the far end of the room talking to Countess Genevieve and their handsome son, Richard, who looked about twenty.

Hubert was a small man with quick movements: Ragna’s very different build, tall and statuesque, came from her mother. But Hubert had the red-gold hair and sea-green eyes, somewhat wasted on a man—in Edgar’s view—but so overpoweringly alluring in Ragna.

The servant motioned Edgar to wait by the door, but Hubert caught his eye and beckoned.

Edgar expected Hubert to regard him benignly, as he had before, but now, approaching the count, Edgar saw that he looked angry and hostile. He wondered what he could possibly have done to infuriate Ragna’s father.

Hubert said loudly: “Tell me, Edgar, do Englishmen believe in Christian marriage, or not?”

Edgar had no idea what this was about, and all he could do was answer to the best of his ability. “My lord, they are Christians, though they don’t always obey the teachings of the priests.” He was about to add just like Normans, but he stopped himself. He was no longer an adolescent and he had learned not to make clever ripostes.