Ragna thought: I, too, might curse someone who let my husband be executed, even if he deserved his punishment.
Ragna wondered what to say. Could she reconcile with Agnes? Wilf would have scoffed at the idea, but he was a man.
From a practical point of view she would like to have Agnes back. It was difficult for Cat to manage Ragna’s three sons plus her owntwo daughters, all under the age of two. Since Agnes left, Ragna had been looking for a replacement, but she had not found the right sort of woman. If Agnes were to come back, that problem would be solved. And the children liked her.
Could she trust Agnes, after what had happened?
“You don’t know what it’s like, my lady, to find that you have chosen the wrong husband.”
Ah, but I do, Ragna thought; then she realized this was the first time she had admitted that to herself.
She felt a surge of compassion. Whatever sins Agnes had committed had been done under the strong influence of Offa. She had married a dishonest man, but that did not make her a dishonest woman.
“It would mean so much to me if you would just say a kind word before I go,” Agnes said, and she did seem pathetic. “Just say ‘God bless you,’ please, my lady.”
Ragna could not refuse her. “God bless you, Agnes.”
“May I just kiss the twins? I do miss them so.”
She did not have children of her own, Ragna reflected. “All right.”
Agnes expertly picked up both babies at the same time, holding one in each arm. “I do love you both,” she said.
Colinan, the younger twin by a few minutes, was the more advanced. He met Agnes’s eye, gurgled, and smiled.
Ragna sighed and said: “Agnes, do you want to come back?”
CHAPTER 27
April 1001
rior Aldred had high hopes of Thane Deorman of Norwood. Deorman was rich. Norwood was a market town, and a market was always a big earner. And Deorman’s wife of many years had died a month ago. That would have put the thane in mind of the afterlife. The death of someone close often prompted a nobleman to make a pious donation.
Aldred needed donations. The priory was not as poor as it had been three years ago—it had three horses, a flock of sheep, and a small herd of milk cows—but Aldred had ambitions. He accepted that he would never take charge of Shiring Abbey, but he now believed he might turn the priory into a center of learning. For that he needed more than a few hamlets. He had to win something big, a prosperous village or a small town, or some moneymaking enterprise such as a port or the fishing rights to a river.
Thane Deorman’s great hall was richly furnished with wall hangings and blankets and cushions. His servants were preparing the table for a lavish midday meal, and there was a powerful aroma of roasting meat. Deorman was a middle-aged man with failing eyesight, unable to joinWilwulf in fighting the Vikings. Nevertheless, with him he had two women in brightly colored dresses who seemed too fond to be merely servants, and Aldred wondered disapprovingly what their exact status was. At least six small children ran in and out of the house, playing some game that involved much high-pitched squealing.
Deorman ignored the children and did not respond to the women’s touches and smiles, but gave his affection to a large black dog that sat beside him.
Aldred got right to the point. “I was sorry to hear of the death of your dear wife, Godgifu. May her soul rest in peace.”
“Thank you,” said Deorman. “I have two other women, but Godgifu was with me for thirty years, and I miss her.”
Aldred did not comment on Deorman’s polygamy. That might be a discussion for another time. Today he had to focus on his target. He spoke in a deeper, more emotional tone. “The monks of Dreng’s Ferry would be glad to give solemn daily prayers for the dear lady’s immortal soul, if you should wish to commission us.”
“I have a cathedral full of priests praying for her right here in Norwood.”
“Then you are truly blessed, or rather she is. But I’m sure you know that the prayers of celibate monks carry more weight, in that other world that awaits us all, than those of married priests.”
“So people say,” Deorman conceded.
Aldred changed his tone and became more brisk. “As well as Norwood, you’re lord of the little hamlet of Southwood, which has an iron mine.” He paused. It was time to make his request specific. With a quick, silent prayer of hope he said: “Would you consider making a pious gift of Southwood and its mine to the priory, in memory of Lady Godgifu?”
He held his breath. Would Deorman pour scorn on such a demand? Would he burst out laughing at Aldred’s effrontery? Would he be offended?
Deorman’s response was mild. He looked startled, but also amused. “That’s a bold request,” he said noncommittally.
“Ask, and it shall be given you, Jesus told us;seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” Aldred often remembered this verse from Matthew’s Gospel when he was soliciting gifts.
