Edgar was not sure this would help. Dreng had little common sense, and might just try to throw his weight around. Leaf was smarter, and kinder, too. But Ma had something up her sleeve, and Edgar could not guess what.

They tramped along the riverbank. The grass was already growing again where they had reaped the hay. The hamlet basked in the August sun, quiet but for the ever-present shush of the river.

They found Ethel, the younger wife, and Blod, the slave, in the alehouse. Ethel smiled at Edgar: she seemed to like him. She said that Dreng was at his brother’s minster, and Cwenburg went to fetch him. Edgar found Leaf in the brewhouse, stirring her mash with a rake. She was happy to break off from her work. She filled a jug with ale and carried it to the bench in front of the alehouse. Cwenburg returned with her father.

They all sat in the sun, enjoying the breeze off the water. Blod poured everyone a cup of ale, and Ma set out the problem in a few words.

Edgar studied the faces around him. Erman and Eadbald were beginning to realize what fools they looked, each thinking he had deceived the other, each having been deceived. Cwenburg was simply proud of the power she had over them. Her parents did not seem surprised by what she had done: perhaps there had been previous incidents. Dreng bristled at any hint of criticism of his daughter. Leaf just looked weary. Ma was in command, confident; in the end, Edgar thought, she would decide what was going to be done.

When Ma had finished, Leaf said: “Cwenburg must be married soon. Otherwise she will fall pregnant by some random ferry passenger who will disappear, leaving us with his bastard to raise.”

Edgar wanted to say: That bastard would be your grandchild. But he kept the thought to himself.

Dreng said: “Don’t speak of my daughter like that.”

“She’s my daughter, too.”

“You’re too hard on her. She may have her faults—”

Ma interrupted. “We all want her to marry, but how is she to live? My farm will not feed another mouth—never mind two.”

Dreng said: “I’m not going to marry her to a husband who can’t support her. I’m a cousin of the ealdorman of Shiring. My daughter could marry a nobleman.”

Leaf laughed derisively.

Dreng went on: “Besides, I can’t let her go. There’s too much work to do around here. I need someone young and strong to paddle the ferry. Blod is too pregnant and I can’t do it myself—I’ve got a bad back. A Viking knocked me off my horse—”

“Yes, yes, at the battle of Watchet,” said Leaf impatiently. “I’ve heard you were drunk, and you fell off a whore, not a horse.”

Ma said: “As to that, Dreng, when Cwenburg leaves you can employ Edgar.”

Well, Edgar thought, I didn’t see that coming.

“He’s young and strong, and what’s more he can build you a new boat to replace that old tree trunk, which is going to sink any day now.”