She became serious again. “My beloved Edgar, will you marry me?”
He laughed happily. “Yes! Of course. Let’s do it today.”
“I want Ethelred’s approval. I don’t want to offend the king. I’m really sorry.”
“Sending a message to him, and getting a reply, could take weeks. Are you saying we have to live apart? I can’t stand it.”
“No, I don’t think so. If we’re promised to each other, and everyone knows it, no one will expect us to sleep apart, except for Aldred. He will still disapprove, but I don’t think he’ll make a fuss.”
“Will the king say yes to your request?”
“I think so, though it would help if you were a minor nobleman.”
“But I’m a builder.”
“You’re a wealthy man and a leading citizen, and I could grantyou some lands with a compound so that you would be a thane. Thurstan of Lordsborough died recently, you could take his place.”
“Edgar of Lordsborough.”
“Do you like that idea?”
“Not as much as I like you,” he said.
Then they did it for the fifth time.
CHAPTER 43
January 1007
he cathedral site was busy. Most of the men were digging foundations and stacking supplies. The craftsmen, hired by Edgar from England and Normandy and farther away, were building their lodges, makeshift huts in which they could shape timber and stones in all weather. They would start putting up walls on Lady Day, March 25, when there was little further danger of overnight frost freezing the mortar.
Edgar had built his tracing floor. Parchment was too expensive for designs, but there was a cheap alternative. He had embedded planks in the ground to form a shallow box about twelve feet by six and filled the box with a bed of mortar. Scratches in the mortar showed white. With a straight edge, a sharp iron point, and a pair of compasses he could draw all the columns and arches he needed. The whiteness faded over time, so new drawings could be made over old, though the scratch marks remained for years.
Edgar had built his own lodge over the tracing floor, just a wide roof on four posts, so that he could continue to work when it rained. He was kneeling there, staring at a window he had drawn, whenRagna appeared and interrupted him. “A messenger has arrived from King Ethelred,” she said.
Edgar stood up, his heart pounding. “What does the king say to our marriage?”
Ragna said: “He says yes.”
Aldred stood with Mother Agatha while the lepers were fed their midday meal. Sister Frith gave thanks for the food, then the disabled men and women crowded around the table with their wooden bowls. “No pushing, no shoving!” Frith cried. “There is food for everyone. The last gets the same as the first!” They took no notice.
Aldred said: “How is he?”
Agatha shrugged. “Filthy, miserable, and mad—the same as most of them.”
When Aldred became bishop he had dismissed all of Wynstan’s clergy from Shiring Cathedral, including Archdeacon Degbert, who ended up a penniless village priest in Wigleigh. Aldred replaced Wynstan’s men with monks from King’s Bridge, under the supervision of Brother Godleof. On the way home, Aldred had picked up former bishop Wynstan from his prison at the hunting lodge and brought him back to Leper Island. Now Wynstan stood with the others, waiting for his meal.
Wynstan was dressed in rags and dirty from his face to his bare feet. He was skinny and his shoulders were slumped. He must have felt cold, but he did not show it. The nun filled his bowl with a thick stew of oats and bacon, and he ate it all quickly, using his unclean fingers.
When he had finished he raised his eyes, and with a flash of recognition, he looked at Aldred.
He approached Aldred and Agatha. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “There has been a terrible mistake.”
“No mistake,” Aldred said, not sure how much Wynstan could understand. “You committed dreadful sins—murder, forgery, fornication, kidnapping. You’re here because of your wrongdoing.”
“But I’m the bishop of Shiring. I’m going to become the archbishop of Canterbury. It’s all planned!” He looked around wildly. “Where am I now? How did I get here? I can’t remember.”
“I brought you here. And you’re not the bishop any longer. I am.”
