“In fact they seem to have gone to the Isle of Wight. Apparently they show every sign of spending the winter there.”
“Again? It’s becoming a permanent base.”
“But I’m afraid they may come back.”
“Oh, yes,” said Wilf. “That’s one thing you can be sure of with the Vikings. They will be back.”
CHAPTER 30
February 1002
our bridge is a marvel,” said Aldred.
Edgar smiled. He was extremely pleased, especially after his initial failure. “It was your idea,” he said modestly.
“And you made it happen.”
They were standing outside the church, looking down the slope to the river. Both wore heavy cloaks against the winter cold. Edgar had a fur hat, but Aldred made do with his monkish hood.
Edgar studied the bridge with pride. As Aldred had envisaged, on each side of the river was a row of boats sticking out into the water like twin peninsulas. Each row was linked to a stout riverside mooring by ropes that allowed the bridge a small degree of movement. Edgar had built flat-bottomed boats, low-sided near the banks and rising in height toward the center. They were linked by oak beams bearing a framework that supported the timber roadbed above. There was a gap in the middle, where the span was highest, to allow river traffic to pass.
He wanted Ragna to see it. It was her admiration he craved. He imagined her looking at him with those sea-green eyes and sayingHow marvelous, you’re so clever to know how to do that, it looks perfect, and a sensation of warmth spread though his body, as if he had drunk a cup of mead.
Looking over Dreng’s Ferry, he recalled the rainy day when she had arrived here with all the grace of a dove curving down to a branch. Had he fallen in love with her right away? Perhaps just a little bit, even then.
He wondered when Ragna would come here again.
Aldred said: “Who are you thinking about?”
Edgar was startled by Aldred’s perception. He did not know what to say.
“Someone you love, obviously,” Aldred said. “It shows on your face.”
Edgar was embarrassed. “The bridge will need maintenance,” he said. “But if it’s looked after, it will last a hundred years.”
Ragna might never return to Dreng’s Ferry, of course. It was not an important place.
“Look at the people crossing,” said Aldred. “It’s a triumph.”
The bridge was already much used. People came to buy fish and to attend services. More than a hundred had crowded into the church at Christmas, and had witnessed the elevation of Saint Adolphus.
Everyone who crossed paid a farthing, and another farthing to go back. The monks had an income, and it was growing. “You did this,” Aldred said to Edgar. “Thank you.”
Edgar shook his head. “It’s your persistence. You’ve been through one setback after another, mostly due to the malice of evil men, and yet you never give up. Every time you’re knocked to the ground you just get up and start again. You amaze me.”
“My goodness,” said Aldred, looking inordinately pleased. “High praise.”
Aldred was in love with Edgar, and Edgar knew it. Aldred’s love was hopeless, for Edgar would never reciprocate. He would never fall in love with Aldred.
Edgar felt the same way about Ragna. He was in love with her, and it would never come to anything. She would never fall in love with him. There was no hope.
There was a difference, though. Aldred seemed reconciled with the way things were right now. He could feel sure he would never sin with Edgar, because Edgar would never want it.
By contrast, Edgar yearned with all his heart to consummate his love for Ragna. He wanted to make love to Ragna, he wanted to marry her, he wanted to wake up in the morning and see her head sharing his pillow. He wanted the impossible.
There was nothing to be gained by brooding on it. He said conversationally: “The tavern is busy.”
Aldred nodded. “That’s because Dreng isn’t there to be rude to everyone. The place always gets more customers when he’s away from home.”
