Wynstan sighed. “It was such a mistake for us to let Wilf marry her.”
“When you negotiated that, you were hoping to reinforce the treaty with Count Hubert.”
“It was more because Wilf wanted her so badly.”
“You could have prevented the marriage.”
“I know,” Wynstan said ruefully. “I could have come home from Cherbourg saying we were too late, she was already engaged to marry Guillaume of Reims.” He considered his explanation. He could usually tell his mother the truth: she was on his side regardless. “Wilf had only just got me appointed bishop, and the sad fact is that I didn’t have the nerve. I was afraid he might guess what I’d done. I thought his wrath would be terrible. In fact I could almost certainly have got away with it. But I didn’t know that then.”
“Don’t worry about Ragna,” said Gytha. “We can handle her. She has no idea of the forces she’s up against.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“In any case, we’d be foolish to move against her now. She holds his heart in her hand.” Gytha smiled with a twisted mouth. “But a man’s love is temporary. Give Wilf time to tire of her.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know. Be patient. The time will come.”
“I love you, Mother.”
“I love you, too, my son.”
Some mornings the fish trap was full, sometimes half full, occasionally empty but for a few tiddlers, but in any week there was more than the family could eat. They hung fish from the rafters to smoke until it seemed to be raining eels. One Friday when the trap came up full Edgar decided to sell some.
He found a stick a yard long and attached twelve fat eels to it, using green twigs as cords, then went to the alehouse. He found Ethel, Dreng’s younger wife, sitting outside in the late summer sun, plucking doves for the pot, her bony hands red and greasy from the work. “Do you want some eels?” he said. “A farthing for two.”
“Where did you get them?”
“From our flooded hayfield.”
“Well done. They’re nice and plump. Yes, I’ll have two.”
She went inside to ask Dreng for the money, and he came out with her. “Where did you get them?” he asked Edgar.
“I found an eel’s nest in a tree,” Edgar said.
“Impertinent as always,” Dreng said, but he gave Edgar a quarter of a silver penny, and Edgar walked on.
He sold two to the laundress, Ebba, and four to Fat Bebbe. Elfburg, who did the cleaning at the minster, said she did not have any money, but her husband, Hadwine, had gone into the forest for the day to collect nuts, and she knew another way to pay Edgar. He declined the offer but gave her two eels anyway.
With four farthings in his belt pouch, Edgar took the remaining fish to the priests.
Degbert’s wife, Edith, was breastfeeding a baby outside the house. “They look nice,” she said.
“You can have all four for half a penny,” he said.
“You’d better ask him,” Edith said, with a jerk of her head toward the open door.
Degbert heard the voices and came out. “Where did you get those?” he said to Edgar.
Edgar suppressed a sarcastic answer. “The flooding has made a fishpond in our hayfield.”
“And who said you could take eels from it?
“The fish didn’t ask permission to swim to our farm.”
Degbert looked at Edgar’s stick. “You seem to have sold some already.”
