She noticed a massive hole in the ground on the site of the projected new church. Large stacks of timber and stones stood around. Clearly Aldred was going ahead without Edgar.

She thanked Alphage for his company and turned aside to her own residence, right opposite the building site, while the archbishop rode a little farther to the cluster of buildings that formed the priory.

She had decided not to move into Wilf’s house in Shiring. She could live anywhere in the region, and she preferred King’s Bridge.

As she approached her home—which was looking more and more like an ealdorman’s compound—Astrid gave a happy snort of recognition, and a moment later the children came running out, Ragna’s four boys and Cat’s two girls. Ragna jumped out of the saddle and hugged them all.

She was filled with a strange emotion that at first she did not recognize. After a moment she realized that she was happy.

She had not felt like this for a long time.

The timber building that had once been the minster was now Aldred’s house and place of work. He welcomed Archbishop Alphage, who shook his hand warmly and thanked him again for his help in gaining the archbishopric. Aldred said: “You’ll forgive me, my lord archbishop, if I say I did it for God, not for you.”

“Which is even more flattering,” said Alphage with a smile.

He sat down, declined a cup of wine, and helped himself from a bowl of nuts. “You were so right about Wynstan,” he said. “He is now quite mad.”

Aldred raised an eyebrow.

Alphage said: “Wynstan took a shit in Shiring Cathedral during Mass.”

“In front of everyone?”

“All the clergy and several hundred in the congregation.”

“Lord save us!” said Aldred. “Did he offer any excuse?”

“He just said: ‘That’s better.’”

Aldred let out a bark of laughter then apologized. “I’m sorry, archbishop, but it is almost funny.”

“I’ve dismissed him. Archdeacon Degbert will deputize for now.”

Aldred frowned. “I don’t have a high opinion of Degbert. He was dean here when this place was a minster.”

“I know, and I never thought well of him. I told him not to hope for promotion to bishop.”

Aldred was relieved. “Who then will take Wynstan’s place?”

“You, I hope.”

Aldred was astounded. He had not been expecting that. “I’m a monk,” he said.

“So am I,” said Alphage.

“But . . . I mean . . . my work is here. I’m the prior.”

“It may be God’s will for you to move on.”

Aldred wished he had been given more time to prepare for this conversation. It was a great honor to be made a bishop, and a tremendous opportunity to further God’s work. But he could not bear the thought of abandoning King’s Bridge. What about the new church? What about the growth of the town? Who would take his place?

He thought about Shiring. Could he realize his dream there? Could he turn Shiring Cathedral into a world-class center of learning? He would first have to deal with a group of priests who had become idle and corrupt under Wynstan. Perhaps he could dismiss all the priests and replace them with monks, following the example of Elfric, Alphage’s predecessor at Canterbury. But the Shiring monks were under the authority of Abbot Hildred, Aldred’s ancient enemy. No, a move to Shiring would set his project back years.