As he brooded, it became clear to him that his troubles would never be over until he had destroyed Ragna. The problem was not just the will. As the wife of a disabled ealdorman Ragna had power, and she was sufficiently intelligent and determined to make the most of it.
Whatever Wynstan decided, he had to act quickly. If Ethelred endorsed the will its provisions would be set in stone: nothing Wynstan could do thereafter would change anything. Ragna must not be allowed even to show it to the king.
Ethelred was due in Sherborne in eighteen days’ time.
Wynstan left the cathedral and crossed the market square to his residence. He found Wigelm on the upstairs floor, sitting on a bench, sharpening a dagger on a stone. He looked up and said: “What’s made you glum?”
Wynstan shooed a couple of servants out and closed the door. “In a minute you’re going to be glum, too,” he said, and he told Wigelm what Agnes had reported.
“King Ethelred must never see that will!” said Wigelm.
“Obviously,” said Wynstan. “It’s a knife at my throat, and yours.”
Wigelm thought for a minute, then said: “We have to steal the will and destroy it.”
Wynstan sighed. Sometimes it seemed he was the only person who understood anything. “People make copies of documents to guard against that sort of thing. I imagine that all three witnesses took away duplicates from the meeting at Dreng’s Ferry. In the unlikely event that there are no copies, Ragna could just write another will and get it witnessed again.”
Wigelm’s face took on a familiar petulant look. “Well, what can we do, then?”
“We can’t let the situation continue.”
“I agree.”
“We have to destroy Ragna’s power.”
“I’m in favor of that.”
Wynstan led Wigelm step-by-step. “Her power depends on Wilf.”
“And we don’t want to take that away from him.”
“No.” Wynstan sighed. “I hate to say it, but all our problems will be solved if Wilf dies soon.”
Wigelm shrugged. “That’s in God’s hands, as you priests like to say.”
“Perhaps.”
“What?”
“His demise could be hastened.”
Wigelm was baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s only one answer.”
“Well, come on, spit it out, Wynstan.”
“We have to kill Wilf.”
“Ha, ha!”
“I mean it.”
Wigelm was shocked. “He’s our brother!”
“Half brother. And he’s losing his mind. He’s more or less under control of the cow from Normandy, something that would shame him if he wasn’t too demented to know that it’s happening. It will be a kindness to end his life.”
“Still...” Wigelm lowered his voice, even though the room was empty but for the two of them. “To kill a brother!”
