Edgar felt like crying. They stood together for a minute, saying nothing. At last Ma swallowed, wiped her eyes, and said: “Enough of that.”

Edgar took her cue and changed the subject. “Am I doing this threshing right?”

“Oh, yes. And the flail works fine. But I see the grains are a bit stunted. We’re going to have a hungry winter.”

“Did we do something wrong?”

“No, it’s the soil.”

“But you think we’ll survive.”

“Yes, though I’m relieved that you’re not in love with Cwenburg. That girl looks as if she eats heartily. This farm couldn’t feed a fifth adult—let alone any children that might come along. We’d all starve.”

“Perhaps next year will be better.”

“We’ll manure the field before we plough again, and that should help, but in the end there’s no way to get rich crops out of poor earth.”

Ma was as shrewd and forceful as ever, but Edgar worried about her. She had changed since the death of Pa. For all her spirit, she no longer seemed invulnerable. She had always been strong, but now he found himself hastening to help her lift a big log for the fire or a full pail of water from the river. He did not speak to her about his worries: she would resent the imputation of weakness. In that way she was more like a man. But he could not help thinking about the dismal prospect of life without her.

Brindle barked suddenly and anxiously. Edgar frowned: the dog often sounded the alarm before the humans knew anything was wrong. A moment later he heard shouting—not just noisy speech but furious, aggressive yelling and snarling. It was his brothers, and he could hear both voices: they must be fighting each other.

He ran toward the noise, which seemed to be coming from near the barn on the other side of the house. Brindle ran with him, barking. Out of the corner of his eye Edgar saw Ma bend to pick up the threshed oats, frugally saving them from the birds.

Erman and Eadbald were rolling on the ground outside the barn, punching and biting each other, screaming with rage. Eadbald’s freckled nose was bleeding and Erman had a bloody abrasion on his forehead.

Edgar yelled: “Stop it, you two!” They ignored him. What fools, Edgar thought; we need all our strength for this damn farm.

The reason for the fight was instantly visible. Cwenburg stood in the barn doorway watching them, laughing with delight. She was naked. Seeing her, Edgar was filled with loathing.

Erman rolled on top of Eadbald and drew back a big fist to punch his face. Seizing the chance, Edgar grabbed Erman from behind, gripping both arms, and pulled him backward. Off balance, Erman could not resist, and he toppled to the ground, releasing Eadbald.

Eadbald leaped to his feet and kicked Erman. Edgar grabbed Eadbald’s foot and lifted, throwing him backward to the ground. Then Erman was up again, shoving Edgar aside to get at Eadbald. Cwenburg clapped her hands enthusiastically.