There was chaos for a few moments, but in commendably quick time the hands had formed a bucket chain.

Ragna went back inside the stable. The new straw was blazing fiercely and the fire had spread. The horses were neighing in fear, kicking out, and struggling to break the ropes that kept them in their places. She went to Astrid, tried to calm her, untied her, and led her out.

She saw Guillaume watching the activity. “Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Do something to help!”

He seemed surprised. “I don’t know what to do,” he said vaguely.

How could he be so useless? In exasperation she said: “You idiot, if you can’t think of anything else just piss on it!”

Guillaume looked insulted and stalked off.

Ragna gave Astrid’s rope to a little girl and ran back inside. She untied all the horses and let them run out, hoping they would not injure anyone in their panic. For a few seconds they constrained the firefighters, but their departure left room to maneuver, and after a few more minutes the flames were extinguished.

The thatched roof had not caught fire, the stable had been saved, and numerous costly horses had been spared from death.

Ragna stopped the bucket chain. “Well done, everyone,” she called. “We caught the blaze in time. No great damage has been done, and no people or horses are hurt.”

One of the men shouted: “Thanks to you, Lady Ragna!”

Several others agreed loudly, and then they all cheered.

She caught Wynstan’s eye. He was looking at her with something like respect.

She looked around for Guillaume. He was nowhere to be seen.

Someone must have heard what she said to Guillaume, for by suppertime everyone in the compound seemed to know about it. Cat told her they were all talking about it, and after that she noticed that when people caught her eye, they smiled at her, then murmured to one another and laughed, as if recalling the punch line of a joke. Twice she overheard someone say: “If you can’t think of anything else just piss on it!”

Guillaume left for Reims the next morning. He had been insulted and now he was the butt of a joke. His dignity could not stand it. His departure was quiet and unceremonious. Ragna had not wanted to humiliate him, but she could not help rejoicing to see him ride away.

Ragna’s parents’ resistance crumbled. Wynstan was told that his brother’s proposal was accepted, including the dowry of twenty pounds, and the wedding was fixed for All Saints’ Day, the first of November. Wynstan went back to England with the good news. Ragna would take a few weeks to get ready, then she would follow.

“You get your way, as you so often do,” Genevieve said to Ragna. “Guillaume doesn’t want you, I don’t have the energy to search for yet another French nobleman, and at least the English will take you off my hands.”