“I shall be the envy of all England.”
That was not quite what Ragna wanted to hear. She did not want to be a symbol of greatness, like a white horse, or an expensive sword.
He said: “I want to spend all day kissing you.”
That was more like it, and she leaned toward him again. Now he was more assertive, and when he grasped her breast and she tried to pull away he prevented her, and drew her toward him. She became a little anxious. She still had the physical advantage while he was lying down, but if it came to a real struggle she could not resist him.
Then came the interruption she was expecting. The dog growled, the door creaked, and Gytha’s voice said: “Good morning, my son.”
Ragna took her time breaking the clinch: she wanted Gytha to see how much Wilf wanted her.
Gytha said: “Oh! Ragna! I didn’t know you were here.”
Liar, thought Ragna. The maid had told Gytha that Ragna had gone into Wilf’s house, and Gytha had dressed hastily and come to see what was going on.
Ragna turned slowly. She was entitled to kiss her fiancé, and she took pains not to look guilty. “Mother-in-law,” she said. “Good morning.” She was polite, but she allowed a hint of irritation into her voice. Gytha was the intruder here, the one who had ventured where she had no right to go.
Gytha said: “Shall I send the barber to shave your chin, Wilf?”
“Not today,” he said with a touch of impatience. “I’ll shave on the morning of the wedding.” He spoke as if she should have knownthis, and it was obvious that she had asked only because she needed a pretext for being there.
Ragna rearranged her headdress, taking more time than she needed, underlining the fact that Gytha had intruded upon a moment of intimacy. While tying the scarf she said: “Show Gytha your gift, Wilf.”
Wilf pointed to the band on his arm. It glinted in the firelight.
“Very attractive,” said Gytha without warmth. “Silver is always good value.” It was cheaper than gold, she was implying.
Ragna ignored the jibe. “And now, Wilf, I must ask you for something.”
“Anything, my beloved.”
“You’ve put me in a very poor house.”
He was startled. “Have I?”
His surprise confirmed Ragna’s suspicion that he had left this to Gytha. Ragna said: “It has no window, and the walls let in the cold air at night.”
Wilf looked at Gytha. “Is this true?”
She said: “It’s not that bad.”
That answer angered Wilf. “My fiancée deserves the best of everything!” he said.
“It’s the only house available,” Gytha protested.
Ragna said: “Not quite.”
“There is no other empty house,” Gytha insisted.
“But Wigelm doesn’t really need a house for himself and his men-at-arms,” Ragna said in a tone of gentle rationality. “His wife isn’t even here. Their home is at Combe.”
Gytha said: “Wigelm is the ealdorman’s brother!”
“And I am the ealdorman’s bride.” Ragna was working hard tosuppress her anger. “Wigelm is a man, with a man’s simple needs, but I am a bride preparing for my wedding day.” She turned her gaze to Wilf. “Which of us do you wish to favor?”
There was only one possible answer a bridegroom could make. “You, of course,” he said.
“And after the wedding,” she said, holding Wilf’s gaze, “I will be closer to you at night, for Wigelm’s house is right next door.”
