Ethelred went on: “I was nine years old when I witnessed it. That’s not time immemorial, I’m only thirty-six now.” The noblemen laughed.
Wynstan looked sick—clearly he had not known the history of the land.
Ethelred said firmly: “The lady Ragna is to have the Vale of Outhen and all the income from it.”
Ragna said gratefully: “Thank you. And my dowry?”
Ethelred said: “A widow is entitled to the return of her dowry. How much was it?”
“Twenty pounds of silver.”
“Wigelm shall pay Ragna twenty pounds.”
Wigelm looked furious and said nothing.
Ethelred said: “Do it now, Wigelm. Go and fetch twenty pounds.”
Wigelm said: “I don’t think I have that much.”
“Then you’re not a very good ealdorman. Perhaps I should reconsider.”
“I’ll go and look.” Wigelm stormed off.
“Now,” Ethelred said to Ragna, “what is to be done about you and the child you’re carrying?”
“I have a request, my lord king. Please don’t make that decision today.” This was the approach Aldred had counseled, and Ragna had decided it was wise. But she added a further demand. “I would like to go to the convent on Leper Island, and give birth there, cared for by Mother Agatha and the nuns. I will leave tomorrow morning, if I gain your permission. Please, wait until the baby is born before you decide my future.” She held her breath.
Aldred spoke up again. “If I may say so, my lord king, any plan you make today may be overtaken by the unpredictable events of childbirth. Heaven forbid, but the child may not live. If it lives, the picture will change depending on whether it is a boy or a girl. Worst of all, the mother may not survive the ordeal. All these things are in God’s hands. Would it not make sense to wait and see?”
Ethelred did not need persuading. In fact he looked relieved not to have to make a decision. “So be it,” he said. “Let us reconsider the matter of the widow lady Ragna after her child is born. Sheriff Den is responsible for her safety as she travels to Dreng’s Ferry.”
Ragna had got everything she had reasonably hoped for. She could leave Shiring in the morning with enough money to make her independent. She would find blessed sanctuary with the nuns. She would put things right with Edgar. They would make a plan.
It had not escaped her attention that the king had not responded to Aldred’s accusation of kidnapping. And no one had mentioned rape. But she had expected that. Ethelred could not make Wigelm ealdorman and then convict him of rape. So the charge had been conveniently forgotten. However, the king’s other decisions came as such a relief to her that she was willing to accept the whole package gratefully.
Wigelm came back, followed by Cnebba carrying a small chest. He set it in front of Ethelred.
“Open it,” said the king.
It contained several leather bags of coins.
Ethelred pointed to the scale on the side table. “Weigh the coins.”
Ragna felt a sudden sharp jab in her abdomen. She froze. There was something familiar about the pain. She had felt it before, and she knew what it meant.
The baby was coming.
Ragna called the baby Alain. She wanted a French name, for an English name would have reminded her of the English father. Andit was similar to the word for “handsome” in the Celtic language of the Breton people.
Alain was handsome. Every baby was lovely to its mother, but this was Ragna’s fourth child and she thought she was capable of being somewhat objective. Alain was a healthy pink color, with a head of dark hair and large blue eyes that looked out with a baffled expression, as if puzzled that the world should be such a strange place.
He cried hard when hungry, drank his fill rapidly from Ragna’s breasts, and fell asleep immediately afterward, as if following a timetable that he considered perfectly sensible. Remembering how Osbert, her first, had seemed so unpredictable and incomprehensible, she wondered whether the children really were so dissimilar. Perhaps it was she who was different, more relaxed and confident now.
The birth had not been easy, but it had been a little less painful and exhausting than previously, for which she was grateful. Alain’s only mistake so far had been to arrive early. Ragna had not had the chance to go to Dreng’s Ferry for her confinement. However, she now planned to go there to recuperate, and Den had told her that King Ethelred had agreed to that.
Cat was as pleased as if she had given birth herself. The children stared at Alain, with curiosity and a touch of resentment, as if unsure whether there was space in the family for another one.
A less welcome admirer was Gytha, mother to Wynstan and Wigelm. She came to Ragna’s house and cooed over the baby, and Ragna did not feel she could forbid her to pick him up: she was his grandmother, and the fact that he was the result of a rape did not change that.
