Den had written to the king last night, before going to bed, and his messenger had left already. It would be some time before a reply came: Den was not sure where the king was, and it could take the messenger weeks to find him.

Ragna went straight to Meganthryth’s house.

She saw Alain immediately. He was sitting at the table eating porridge with a spoon, watched by his grandmother, Gytha, and Meganthryth, plus two maids. Ragna realized with a shock that he was no longer a baby. He was taller, his dark hair was getting long, and his face had lost its pudgy roundness. He had the beginnings of the nose and chin that characterized the men of Wigelm’s family.

She cried: “Oh, Alain, you’ve changed!” and she burst into tears.

Gytha and Meganthryth both turned around, startled.

Ragna went to the table and sat by her son. He stared at her thoughtfully with his large blue eyes. She could not tell whether he knew her or not.

Gytha and Meganthryth looked on without speaking.

Ragna said: “Do you remember me, Alain?”

“Mudder,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he had been searching for the right word and was satisfied to have found it; then he put another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

Ragna felt a wave of relief overwhelm her.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the other women. Meganthryth’s eyes were red and sore. Gytha was dry-eyed, but her face was white and drawn. They had heard the news, evidently, and both were possessed by grief. Wigelm had been evil, but he had been Gytha’s son and Meganthryth’s lover, and they mourned him. But Ragna felt little compassion. They had connived in the monumental cruelty of taking Alain away from Ragna. They deserved no sympathy.

Ragna said firmly: “I have come to take back my child.”

Neither woman protested.

Alain put down his spoon and turned his bowl to show that it was empty. “All gone,” he said. He placed the bowl back on the table.

Gytha looked defeated. All her deviousness had come to nothing in the end. She seemed much changed. “We were cruel to you, Ragna,” she said. “It was wicked of us to take your child.”

It was a shocking turnaround, and Ragna was not ready to take it at face value. “Now you admit it,” she said. “When you’ve lost the power to keep him.”

Gytha persisted. “You won’t be as wicked as us, will you? Please don’t cut me off from my only grandchild.”

Ragna made no reply. She turned her attention back to Alain. He was watching her carefully.

She reached for him and he held out his arms to be picked up. She lifted him onto her lap. He was heavier than she remembered: she would no longer be able to carry him around half the day. He leaned into her, resting his head on her chest, and she felt the heat of his little body through the wool of her dress. She stroked his hair.