Aldred did not want to get into that. “We have no guaranteed rights, and that makes us weak. We need a charter that says the monastery is independent, and is entitled to build a bridge and charge a toll and hold markets and a fair. Then predatory noblemen would hesitate to attack us.”
“And if I give you this charter you will build me a bridge.”
“I will,” said Aldred, silently hoping that Edgar would be as helpful as previously. “And fast,” he added optimistically.
“Then consider it done,” said the king.
Aldred would not consider it done until it was done. “I will have the charter drawn up immediately,” he said. “It can be witnessed before you leave here tomorrow.”
“Good,” said the king. “Now, what have you got for me to eat?”
Wigelm said to Wynstan: “The king is on his way. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he will be here in a matter of days.”
“Very likely,” said Wynstan anxiously.
“And then he will confirm me as ealdorman.”
They were in the ealdorman’s compound. Wigelm was acting ealdorman, though he had never received the king’s blessing. The two brothers were standing in front of the great hall, looking east, at the road that led into the town of Shiring, as if Ethelred’s army might appear there at any moment.
So far there was no sign, though a single rider was approaching at a trot, his horse’s breath steaming in the cold air.
Wynstan said: “There’s still a chance he might nominate little Osbert, with Ragna acting as the boy’s regent.”
Wigelm said: “I’ve mustered four hundred men already and more are coming in every day.”
“Good. If the king attacks us, the army can defend us, and if he doesn’t they can fight the Vikings.”
“Either way, I will have proved my ability to raise an army, and therefore to be ealdorman of Shiring.”
“I bet Ragna could muster armies equally well. But fortunately the king doesn’t know what she’s like. With luck, he’ll think that if he wants his troops he has to have your help.”
Wynstan himself should have been the one to claim the title of ealdorman. But it was too late for that, too late by about thirty years. Wilwulf had been the elder brother, and their mother had set Wynstan firmly on the second-best route to power, the Church. But no one could see the future, and the unforeseen consequence of his mother’s careful planning had been that the mulish youngest brother, Wigelm, was now playing the role of ealdorman.
“But we’ve got another problem,” Wynstan said. “We can’t stop Ethelred holding court, and we can’t prevent him from talking about Ragna. He is going to order us to produce her, and then what can we do?”
Wigelm sighed. “I wish we could just kill her.”
“We’ve been over that. We barely got away with killing Wilf. If we murder Ragna the king will declare war on us.”
The rider Wynstan had seen on the road now trotted into the compound, and Wynstan recognized Dreng. He grunted with irritation. “What does that fawning idiot want now?”
Dreng left his horse at the stable and came to the great hall.“Good day to you, my cousins,” he said, smiling unctuously. “I hope I see you well.”
Wynstan said: “What brings you here, Dreng?”
“King Ethelred came to our village,” Dreng said. “His army crossed on my ferry.”
“That must have taken awhile. What did he do while he was waiting?”
“He gave the priory a charter. They have royal approval for a toll bridge, a weekly market, and an annual fair.”
“Aldred building his power base,” Wynstan mused. “These monks renounce the things of the world, but they know how to look after their own interests.”
Dreng seemed disappointed that Wynstan was not more shocked. “Then the army left,” he said.
“When do you think they’ll get here?”
“They’re not coming here. They recrossed the river.”
