“You’re very kind. How much?”
Cuthbert sighed. “A pound,” he said.
It was a lot of money: two hundred and forty silver pennies. But there was about half a pound of silver in the arm ring: the price was reasonable. And the more she looked at it, the more she wanted it. She imagined herself slipping it over Wilwulf’s hand and up his arm, then looking at his face to see him smile.
She decided not to haggle; it was undignified. She was not a peasant woman buying a ladle. But she pretended to hesitate, just for the sake of appearances.
Cuthbert said: “Don’t make me sell it for less than it cost me, dear lady.”
“Very well,” she said. “A pound.”
“The ealdorman will be delighted. This will look wonderful on his mighty arm.”
Cat had been watching the interchange, and now Ragna saw her quietly move to where their luggage was stowed and unobtrusively unlock an ironbound chest.
Ragna put the ring on her own arm. It was far too big, of course, but she liked the engraving.
Cuthbert wrapped up his remaining ornaments and lovingly stowed them away.
Cat came back with a small leather bag. Meticulously she countedout pennies in multiples of twelve. Cuthbert re-counted each twelve. Finally Cuthbert put the money in his chest, closed the box, and left, wishing Ragna a splendid wedding day and many years of happy marriage.
Supper was served at the two tables. The visitors ate first. There were no plates: instead, thick slices of bread were placed on the table and Ethel’s mutton with onions was ladled onto the bread. They all waited for Ragna to begin. She speared a piece of meat with her knife and put it in her mouth, then they all tucked in. The stew was simple but tasty.
Ragna felt cheered by food, ale, and the pleasure of buying a gift for the man she loved.
Night fell while they were eating, and lamps around the room were lit by the pregnant slave.
As soon as Ragna had finished eating she said: “Now I’m tired. Where do I sleep?”
Dreng said cheerfully: “Anywhere you like, my lady.”
“But where is my bed?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have beds, my lady.”
“No beds?”
“I’m sorry.”
Did they really expect her to wrap herself in her cloak and lie down in the straw with everyone else? The creepy Dreng would probably try to lie next to her. At the English monasteries she had been given a simple wooden bed with a mattress, and Thurstan of Lordsborough had provided a sort of box with leaves in the bottom. “Not even a box bed?” she said.
“No one in Dreng’s Ferry has a bed of any kind.”
Edgar spoke up. “Except the nuns.”
Ragna was surprised. “Nobody told me about any nuns.”
“On the island,” said Edgar. “There’s a small convent.”
Dreng looked cross. “You can’t go there, my lady. They look after lepers and all sorts. That’s why it’s called Leper Island.”
Ragna was skeptical. Many nuns cared for the sick, and they rarely caught the infections of their patients. Dreng just wanted the prestige of hosting Ragna overnight.
Edgar said: “The lepers aren’t allowed into the convent.”
Dreng said crossly: “You know nothing, you’ve only lived here a quarter of a year, keep your mouth shut.” He smiled unctuously at Ragna. “I couldn’t let you risk your life, my lady.”
“I’m not asking your permission,” Ragna said coldly. “I shall make up my own mind.” She turned to Edgar. “What are the sleeping arrangements at the nunnery?”
