Edgar said: “Thank you both for your advice, but the fact remains that I haven’t been summoned to appear at the trial of Bishop Wynstan.”
Ithamar was not satisfied. “Remember,” he said, wagging a finger, “that Dean Degbert is your landlord.”
Edgar was taken aback. He had not been expecting threats. “What do you mean by that”—he moved closer to Ithamar—“exactly?”
Ithamar looked intimidated and took a step back, but he put on a belligerent face and said defiantly: “We need our tenants to support the Church, not undermine it.”
“I would never undermine the Church. For example, I would not forge counterfeit coins in a minster.”
“Don’t get clever with me. I’m telling you that if you offend your landlord, he will evict you from your farm.”
Erman said: “Jesus save us. We can’t lose the farm. We’re only just getting straight. Edgar, listen to the man. Don’t be a fool.”
Edgar stared at Ithamar with incredulity. “We’re in a church, and you’ve just attended Mass,” he said. “Angels and saints surround us, invisible but real. They all know what you’re doing. You’re trying to prevent the truth being told, and you’re protecting a wicked man from the consequences of his crimes. What do you imagine the angels are whispering to one another now, as they watch you committing these sins, with the wine of the sacrament still on your lips?”
Eadbald protested: “Edgar, he’s the priest, not you!”
Ithamar paled, and took a moment to think how to reply. “I’m protecting the Church, and the angels know it,” he said, though he looked as if he hardly believed that himself. “And you should do the same. Otherwise you’ll feel the wrath of God’s priesthood.”
Erman spoke with a note of desperation. “You have to do as he says, Edgar, or we’ll be back where we were fifteen months ago, homeless and destitute.”
“I got that message,” Edgar said shortly. He was feeling bewildered and uncertain and he did not want to show it.
Eadbald put in: “Tell us you won’t testify, Edgar, please.”
Cwenburg said: “Think of my baby.”
Ithamar said: “Listen to your family, Edgar.” Then he turned away with the air of one who feels he has done all he can.
Edgar wondered what Ma would say. He needed her wisdom now. The others were no help. He said: “Why don’t you all go back to the farmhouse? I’ll catch you up.”
Erman said suspiciously: “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to Ma,” said Edgar, and he walked away.
He stepped outside the church and crossed the graveyard to Ma’s resting place. The grass over it was young and bright green. Edgar stood at the foot of the plot and folded his hands in the attitude of prayer. “I don’t know what to do, Ma,” he said.
He closed his eyes and imagined she was alive, standing next to him, listening thoughtfully.
“If I swear the oath, I’ll get us all evicted from the farm.”
He knew his mother could not answer him. However, she was in his memory, and her spirit was surely nearby, so she could speak to him in his imagination, if he just opened his mind.
“Just when we’re starting to have a little to spare,” he said. “Moneyfor blankets and shoes and beef. Erman and Eadbald have worked hard. They deserve some reward.”
He knew she agreed with that.
“But if I give in to Ithamar I’ll be helping a wicked bishop escape justice. Wynstan will be able to carry on as he always has. I know you wouldn’t want me to do that.”
He had laid it out plainly, he thought.
In his mind, she answered clearly. “Family comes first,” she said. “Take care of your brothers.”
“So I’ll refuse to help Aldred.”
“Yes.”
Edgar opened his eyes. “I knew you’d say that.”
