“He loves beautiful things. He collects enameled brooches and embellished strap ends. He has good taste. But you haven’t asked me what I thought might have been a girl’s first question.”

“What’s that?”

“Whether he’s handsome.”

“Ah,” said Ragna, “on that matter I must make my own judgment.”

As they rode into Cherbourg, Ragna noticed that the wind had changed. “Your ship will sail this evening,” she said to Aldred. “You have an hour before the tide turns, but you’d better get on board.”

They returned to the castle. Aldred retrieved his box of books. Louis and Ragna went with him as he walked Dismas down to the waterfront. Aldred said: “It’s been a delight meeting you, Lady Ragna. If I’d known there were girls like you, perhaps I wouldn’t have become a monk.”

It was the first flirtatious remark he had made to her, and she knew right away that he was merely being polite. “Thank you for the compliment,” she said. “But you would have become a monk anyway.”

He smiled ruefully, clearly understanding what she was thinking.

Ragna would probably never see him again, which was a shame, she thought.

A ship was coming in on the tail of the tide. It looked like an English fishing vessel, she thought. The crew furled the sail and the ship drifted toward the shore.

Aldred went on board his chosen vessel with his horse. The crew were already untying the ropes and raising the anchor. Meanwhile, the English fishing boat was doing the reverse.

Aldred waved to Ragna and Louis as the ship began to float away from land on the turning tide. At the same time, a small group of men disembarked from the newly arrived vessel. Ragna looked at them with idle curiosity. They had big mustaches but no beards, which marked them as English.

Ragna’s eye was drawn to the tallest of them. Aged about forty, he had a thick mane of blond hair. A blue cloak, ruffled now by the breeze, was fastened across his broad shoulders by an elaborate silver pin; his belt had a highly decorated silver buckle and strap end; and the hilt of his sword was encrusted with precious stones. English jewelers were the best in Christendom, Ragna had been told.

The Englishman walked with a confident stride, and his companions hurried to keep up. He came straight toward Ragna and Louis, no doubt guessing from their clothes that they were people of importance.

Ragna said: “Welcome to Cherbourg, Englishman. What brings you here?”

The man ignored her. He bowed to Louis. “Good day, Father,” he said in poor French. “I have come to speak with Count Hubert. I am Wilwulf, ealdorman of Shiring.”

Wilwulf was not handsome in the way Aldred was handsome. The ealdorman had a big nose and a jaw like a shovel, and his hands and arms were disfigured by scars. But all the maids in the castle blushed and giggled when he strode past. A foreigner was always intriguing, but Wilwulf’s attraction was more than that. It had to do with his size and the loose-limbed way he walked and the intensity of his gaze. Most of all, he had a self-confidence that seemed ready for anything. A girl felt that at any moment he might effortlessly pick her up and carry her off.