The Evening and the Morning

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The Evening and the Morning Page 67

by Ken Follett


  Edgar and Aldred made several fruitless excursions, along tracks leading to isolated cottages, homesteads, and one small village that neither man had ever heard of. They were almost at Stumpy’s when Edgar noticed a place where several horses had passed today: there were freshly snapped twigs on the bushes and recent droppings on the path. His heart beat faster and he said: “I think this could be it.”

  They turned in. The path got narrower but the evidence of recent passage became stronger. Now Edgar began to feel fear as well as hope. He might find Ragna, but if he did he would also come across Wynstan, and what would Wynstan do? Beside Edgar, Aldred looked unafraid, but he probably thought God would protect him.

  The woods were full of lush new growth. Every minute or two Edgar glimpsed a deer moving silently through the dappled shadows, evidence that there had been no hunting here recently. Progress slowed. Where low branches overhung the path they had to dismount. They walked a mile, then another.

  Then Edgar heard the voices of children.

  They tied up their horses and walked forward slowly, trying to make no noise. They approached the edge of a clearing and stopped in the shadow of a massive oak.

  Edgar recognized the children right away: the four-year-old boy was Osbert, the two-year-old twins were Hubert and Colinan, and the little girls were Cat’s daughters, Mattie, who was four, and Edie, two. Although pale, they looked well enough otherwise, running around after a ball.

  However, Cat’s appearance shocked him. Her black hair was lank and lifeless and her skin was blemished. There was a boil on the side of her tip-tilted nose. Worst of all, the spark of mischief had gone from her eyes and her expression was lethargic. She stood with her shoulders slumped, watching the children without apparent interest.

  Edgar looked past Cat to the timber house behind her. Its windows had been boarded over so that the shutters could not be opened. The door was secured from the outside by a heavy bar, and a guard sat nearby on a bench, looking the other way and picking his nose. Edgar recognized him as a Shiring boy called Elfgar. His right arm was covered with a dirty bandage.

  There were several more buildings and a field where horses grazed, presumably the mounts of Wynstan and his men.

  Aldred whispered: “This is the secret prison. We should leave now, before we’re seen. We can go to Shiring and fetch Den.”

  Edgar knew Aldred was right, but now that he was this close he could not tear himself away. “I have to see Ragna,” he said.

  “You don’t need to. She must be here. It’s dangerous to linger.”

  “You go and fetch Den. I don’t care if they imprison me for a few days.”

  “Don’t be such a fool!”

  Their murmured conversation was interrupted by a loud voice from behind: “Who the hell are you?”

  Both turned. The speaker was a man-at-arms called Fulcric. He had a spear in his hand and a long dagger in a wooden sheath hanging from his belt. Scars on his hands and face showed he had survived many fights. Edgar realized at once that physical resistance would be useless.

  Aldred adopted an authoritative tone. “I am Prior Aldred and I’m here to speak to the lady Ragna,” he said.

  “You’ll speak to Bishop Wynstan before you see anyone else,” said Fulcric.

  “Very well,” said Aldred, as if he had a choice.

  “Over there.” Fulcric nodded toward a house on the far side of the clearing.

  Edgar turned and stepped out of the trees. “Hello, Cat,” he said quietly. “How are you?”

  Cat gave a little cry of shock. “Edgar!” She looked around with a frightened expression. “This is dangerous for you.”

  “Never mind,” he said. “Is Ragna here?”

  “Yes.” Cat hesitated. “She’s pregnant.”

  So it was true. “I heard a rumor.”

  He was about to ask when the baby was due when Elfgar awoke from his reverie, jumped to his feet, and said: “Hey, you!”

  Fulcric said: “You’re half asleep, boy. They were hiding in the trees.”

  Edgar said: “You know me, Elfgar. I mean no harm. What happened to your arm?”

  “I was in the king’s army and I got a spear wound from a Viking,” Elfgar said proudly. “It’s healing, but I can’t fight until it’s better, so they sent me home.”

  Fulcric said: “Keep moving, you two.”

  They crossed the clearing but, before they came to the house, the door opened and Wynstan came out. When he saw Edgar and Aldred he registered surprise but—strangely—not dismay. “So, you found the place!” he said cheerfully.

  Aldred said: “I am here to see the lady Ragna.”

  “I haven’t seen her myself yet,” said Wynstan. “I’ve been . . . busy.” He glanced back through the open door of the house he had left, and Edgar thought he saw Agnes there.

  That confirmed another rumor.

  Edgar said: “You have kidnapped her and imprisoned her here against her will. That’s a crime, and you shall be called to account.”

  “On the contrary,” said Wynstan mildly. “The lady Ragna wished to retire from the public eye and mourn her late husband in solitude for a year. I offered her the use of this isolated lodge so that she could be undisturbed. She accepted my offer gratefully.”

  Edgar looked at him through narrowed eyes. Widows did sometimes withdraw for a period of mourning, but they went to nunneries, not hunting lodges. Was there any chance at all that this fairy tale might be believed? Everyone present knew it was a blatant lie, but others might not. Wynstan had escaped the charge of forgery with a similarly devious ruse. Edgar said: “I insist you free the lady Ragna immediately.”

  “There’s no question of freeing her,” Wynstan said, still pretending to be all sweet reason. “She has expressed a wish to return to Shiring, and I have come to escort her there.”

  Edgar stared, incredulous. “You’re taking her back to the compound?”

  “Yes. Quite naturally, she wants to see King Ethelred.”

  “The king is coming to Shiring?”

  “Yes, so we’re told. We’re not sure when.”

  “And you’re taking Ragna to meet him?”

  “Naturally.”

  Edgar was confounded. What was Wynstan up to now? His tone of goodwill was of course completely false, but what did he intend in reality?

  Edgar said: “Will she tell me the same?”

  “Go and ask her,” said Wynstan. “Elfgar, let him in.”

  Elfgar unbarred the door, and Edgar went inside. The door closed behind him.

  The room was dark: the shutters were closed over the windows. It smelled bad, like the slave quarters in the ealdorman’s compound, where the people were not allowed out at night. Flies circled around a covered pot in a corner. The rushes on the floor should have been changed months ago. Mice rustled underfoot. It was hot and airless.

  As his eyesight adjusted to the gloom Edgar saw two women sitting facing each other on a bench, holding hands. Evidently he had interrupted an intimate conversation. One of the women was Hildi: she got up and left immediately. The other had to be Ragna, but she was almost unrecognizable. Her hair was dirty brown rather than red-gold, and her complexion was spotty. Her dress might once have been blue, but now it was a mottled gray-brown. Her shoes were in tatters.

  Edgar held out his arms to embrace her, but she did not come to him.

  He had lived this moment many times in his imagination: the happy smiles, the nonstop kisses, her body pressed hard against his, the murmured words of love and joy. The reality was nothing like his dream.

  He took a step toward her, but she stood up and moved back.

  He had to make allowances, he realized. Her spirit had been crushed. She was not herself. He must help her to act normally.

  He found his voice and said gently: “May I kiss you?”

 
She lowered her eyes.

  Still speaking in a low, loving tone, he said: “Why not?”

  “I’m hideous.”

  “I’ve seen you better dressed.” He smiled. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re you. We’re together. That’s all I care about.”

  She shook her head.

  Edgar said: “Say something.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “I can see that.” He studied her figure. The bulge was clearly visible, but not enormous. “When is the baby due?”

  “August.”

  He had suspected this, but confirmation came like a blow. “So it’s not mine.”

  She shook her head.

  “Who, then?”

  “Wigelm.” She lifted her head at last. “His men held me down.” Defiance showed in her face. “Many times.”

  Edgar felt as if he had been knocked over. He could hardly breathe. No wonder she was in the depths of despair. It was a miracle she had not gone mad.

  When he recovered his voice, he did not know what to say. Eventually he managed: “I love you.”

  His words made no impression.

  She seemed numb, stunned, like one barely conscious, a sleepwalker. What could he do? He wanted to comfort her, but nothing he said seemed to register. He would have touched her, but when he lifted his hands she backed away. He might have overcome her resistance and embraced her regardless, but he sensed that would just remind her of what Wigelm had done. He was helpless.

  She said: “I want you to go.”

  “I’ll do anything you ask.”

  “Then go.”

  “I love you.”

  “Please go.”

  “I’m going.” He went to the door. “We’ll be together one day. I know it.”

  She said nothing. He thought he saw the glint of tears in her eyes, but the room was dark and it might have been wishful thinking.

  “Say good-bye to me, at least,” he said.

  “Good-bye.”

  He knocked at the door and it was opened immediately.

  “Au revoir,” he said. “I’ll see you again soon.”

  She turned her back, and Edgar walked out.

  * * *

  Ragna left the hunting lodge the next day with Cat and the children. They rode on the same cart that had brought them. They departed early and arrived as darkness was falling. The two women were tired and the children were cranky, and they all went to sleep as soon as they got into the house.

  Next morning Cat borrowed a big iron pot from the kitchen and they heated water on the fire. They washed the children from head to toe, then themselves. After putting on clean clothes, Ragna began to feel less like penned livestock and more like a human being.

  Gilda the kitchen maid appeared with a loaf of bread, fresh butter, eggs, and salt, and they all fell on the food as if starving.

  Ragna needed to rebuild her household, and she decided to start with Gilda. “Would you like to come and work for me?” she said as Gilda was leaving. “And your daughter, Winthryth, too, perhaps?”

  Gilda smiled. “Yes, please, my lady.”

  “I haven’t any money to pay you now, but I will soon.” Before too long a courier would arrive from Normandy.

  “That’s all right, my lady.”

  “I’ll speak to the kitchenmaster later. Don’t say anything to anyone for the moment.”

  All Ragna’s possessions seemed to be here. Her robes were on pegs around the walls, and looked as if they had been aired. Most of the chests seemed to be here, with her brushes and combs, scented oils, belts and shoes, and even her jewelry. Only her money was missing.

  She was going to see the kitchenmaster, a mere servant, but she needed to assert her authority right from the start. She put on a silk dress in a rich dark brown color and tied a gold-colored sash around her middle. She chose a tall pointed hat. She picked out a jeweled headband to secure the hat, and added a pendant and an arm ring.

  She walked across the compound with her head held high.

  Everyone was interested to see her and curious about how she looked. She met the eyes of each person she passed, determined not to appear cowed by her ill-treatment. People were at first unsure how to react, then they decided to play it safe and bow to her. She spoke to several and they responded warmly. She guessed they might look back nostalgically to the times when Wilwulf and Ragna ruled the compound: it was unlikely that Wigelm had been equally congenial.

  The kitchenmaster was called Bassa. She walked up to him and said: “Good morning to you, Bassa.”

  He looked startled. “Good morning,” he said, then after a brief hesitation, he added: “My lady.”

  “Gilda and Winthryth are coming to work at my house,” she said in a tone that did not invite discussion.

  Bassa was uncertain, but just said: “Very good, my lady.” People never got in trouble for saying that.

  “They can begin tomorrow morning,” Ragna said in a softer voice. “That will give you time to make other arrangements.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  Ragna left the kitchen, feeling better. She was behaving like a powerful noblewoman, and people were treating her as such.

  As she returned to her house, Sheriff Den appeared, followed by two of his men. “You need bodyguards,” he said.

  It was true. After the death of Bern had left her unprotected, it had been easy for Wigelm to kidnap her quietly in the middle of the night. She wanted never to be so vulnerable again.

  Den said: “I’m lending you Cadwal and Dudoc until you’re able to hire your own.”

  “Thank you.” Ragna was struck by a thought. “Where will I find bodyguards for hire, I wonder?”

  “This autumn there will be a lot of soldiers returning from the Viking war. Most will go back to their farms and workshops, but some will be looking for employment, and they will have had the kind of experience a bodyguard needs.”

  “Good point.”

  “You may need to equip them with decent weapons. And I’d recommend heavyweight leather jerkins. They will keep the men warm in winter and give some protection, too.”

  “As soon as I get some money.”

  It was another week before money arrived. It came with Prior Aldred, who had been looking after the cash brought every three months by Odo and Adelaide.

  He also brought a folded sheet of parchment. It was a copy, made in his scriptorium, of Wilwulf’s will. “This may help you when you see King Ethelred,” he said.

  “Do I need help? I’m going to accuse Wigelm of kidnap and rape. Both crimes were witnessed by my maid Cat.” She put her hand on her belly. “And if further proof were needed, there’s this.”

  “And that would be sufficient, if we lived in a world that was ruled by laws.” Aldred sat on a stool, leaned forward, and spoke quietly. “But the man matters more than the law, as you know.”

  “Surely King Ethelred must be mortally offended by what Wigelm has done.”

  “True. And he could turn his army on Shiring and arrest Wigelm and Wynstan. Goodness knows, they’ve done enough to deserve that. But the king has his hands full battling the Vikings, and he may feel this is the wrong time to fight English noblemen who are his allies.”

  “Are you telling me that Wigelm is going to get away with it?”

  “I’m saying that Ethelred will see this as a political problem, rather than a simple matter of crime and punishment.”

  “Hell. So how might he solve the problem?”

  “He may think the simplest answer is for you to marry Wigelm.”

  Ragna stood up, furious. “Never!” she cried. “Surely he wouldn’t force me to marry the man who raped me?”

  “I don’t think he would force you, no. And even if he were inclined that way I suspect his new Norman queen would take your side. But you don�
�t want to clash with the king if you can help it. You need him to think of you as a friend.”

  Ragna struggled to accept all this. She recalled that she had once been quite shrewd about politics. She felt passionately angry and indignant, but that was not helping her to develop her strategy. She was lucky that Aldred was here to open her eyes. She said: “What do you think I should do?”

  “Before Ethelred gets the chance to suggest the marriage, you should ask him to make no decision about your future before the baby is born.”

  It was a sensible idea, Ragna thought. The whole picture would be changed if the baby died. Or the mother. And both happened frequently.

  Aldred must have been thinking that, but he said something different. “Ethelred will like the idea because it will offend nobody.”

  More importantly, Ragna thought, it would give her time to renew her friendship with Queen Emma and win her as an ally. There was nothing so valuable as a friend at court.

  Aldred stood up. “I’ll leave you to think about that.”

  “Thank you for taking care of my money.”

  “Edgar traveled here with me. Will you see him?”

  Ragna hesitated. She thought with regret of their last encounter. She had been too paralyzed with self-disgust to talk sensibly. He must have been terribly upset by her pregnancy, and her mood must have made that even worse. “Of course I’ll see him,” she said.

  When he came in she noticed how well dressed he was, in a fine wool tunic and leather shoes. He wore no jewelry, but his belt had a decorated silver buckle and strap end. He was prospering.

  And his face bore an expression of eager optimism that she knew well.

  She stood up and said: “I’m glad to see you.”

  He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace.

  He was careful of her belly, but he hugged her shoulders hard. It almost hurt, but she did not care, she was so pleased to be touching him. They stayed like that for a long moment.

 

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