“Now, Gaston,” she said, “the time has come for you to tell me and your neighbors why you will not pay your rent.”

“My lady, I stand before you—”

“Wait.” Ragna held up a hand to stop him. “Remember that this is not the court of the king of the Franks.” The villagers tittered. “We don’t need a formal speech with high-flown phrases.” There was not much chance of Gaston making such a speech, but he would probably try if he was not given a clear lead. “Imagine that you’re drinking cider with a group of friends and they’ve asked you why you’re so riled up.”

“Yes, my lady. My lady, I haven’t paid the rent because I can’t.”

Gerbert said: “Rubbish.”

Ragna frowned at Gerbert. “Wait your turn,” she said sharply.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Gaston, what is your rent?”

“I raise beef cattle, my lady, and I owe your noble father two year-old beasts every Midsummer Day.”

“And you say you don’t have the beasts?”

Gerbert interrupted again. “Yes, he does.”

“Gerbert!”

“Sorry, my lady.”

Gaston said: “My pasture was invaded. All the grass was eaten by Bernard’s sheep. My cows had to eat old hay, so their milk dried up and two of my calves died.”

Ragna looked around, trying to remember which one was Bernard. Her eye lit on a small, thin man with hair like straw. Not being sure, she looked up at the sky and said: “Let’s hear from Bernard.”

She had been right. The thin man coughed and said: “Gaston owes me a calf.”

Ragna saw that this was going to be a convoluted argument with a long history. “Wait a moment,” she said. “Is it true that your sheep cropped Gaston’s pasture?”

“Yes, but he owed me.”

“We’ll get to that. You let your sheep into his field.”

“I had good reason.”

“But that’s why Gaston’s calves died.”

Gerbert, the reeve, put in: “Only this year’s newborn calves died. He still has last year’s. He’s got two one-year-olds he can give to the count for his rent.”

Gaston said: “But then I’ll have no one-year-olds next year.”

Ragna began to get the dizzy feeling that always came when she tried to grasp a peasant squabble. “Quiet, everyone,” she said. “So far we’ve established that Bernard invaded Gaston’s pasture—perhaps with reason, we shall see about that—and as a result Gaston feels, rightly or wrongly, that he is too poor to pay any rent this year. Now, Gaston, is it true that you owe Bernard a calf? Answer yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“And why have you not paid him?”

“I will pay him. I just haven’t been able to yet.”

Gerbert said indignantly: “Repayment can’t be postponed forever!”

Ragna listened patiently while Gaston explained why he had borrowed from Bernard and what difficulties he had paying him back. Along the way, a variety of barely relevant issues were raised: perceived insults to one another, wives’ insults to other wives, disputes about which words had been uttered and in what tone of voice. Ragna let it run. They needed to vent their anger. But finally she called a halt.