The Evening and the Morning

by Ken Follett

  When they broke apart he was smiling like the boy who won the race. She smiled back. “How are you?” she said.

  “I’m all right, now that you’re free.”

  “Have you finished your bridge?”

  “Not yet. What about you, what’s your plan?”

  “I have to stay here until the king comes.”

  “Will you come to Dreng’s Ferry afterward? Our plan could still work. You could take refuge in the nunnery for as long as necessary. And we could talk at leisure about . . . our future.”

  “I’d like that. But I can’t make any plans until I see the king. He is in charge of noble widows. I don’t know what he might do.”

  Edgar nodded. “I’ll leave you for now. I have to buy iron. But will you invite me to dinner?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m happy to sit around the table with the servants and children, you know that.”

  “I know.”

  “I have one more question.” He took her hands.

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  “Do you love me?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “Then I’m a happy man.”

  He kissed her lips. She let her mouth linger on his for a long moment. Then he left.

  CHAPTER 37

  August 1003

  ing Ethelred held court in the marketplace outside Shiring Cathedral. Every citizen was there, plus hundreds from the surrounding villages, and most of the noblemen and senior clergy in the region. Ragna’s bodyguards made a path through the crowd so that she could get to the front, where Wynstan and Wigelm and all the other magnates stood, waiting for the king. She knew most of the thanes and made a point of speaking to each. She wanted everyone to know she was back.

  In front of the crowd stood two cushioned four-legged stools under a temporary canopy put up to shade the royals from the August sun. To one side was a table with writing materials, and two priests sitting ready to pen documents at the king’s command. They also had a stilyard balance to weigh large sums of money if the king imposed fines.

  The townspeople were excited. Kings traveled from town to town all the time, but even so an ordinary English person seldom got to see one in the flesh. Everyone was keen to see whether he seemed in good health, and what his new queen was wearing.

  A king was a remote personage. In theory he was all-powerful but, in practice, edicts issued from a faraway royal court might not be enforced. The decisions of local overlords often had more effect on everyday life. But that changed when the king came to town. It was hard for tyrants such as Wynstan and Wigelm to defy a royal edict that had been pronounced in front of thousands of local people. Victims of injustice hoped for restitution when the king came to visit.

  At last Ethelred appeared with Queen Emma. The townspeople knelt and the noblemen bowed. Everyone made way for the royal couple to walk to their seats.

  Emma at eighteen was young and pretty, much the same as when Ragna last saw her six years ago, except that now she was pregnant. Ragna smiled, and Emma recognized her immediately. To Ragna’s delight the queen came straight to her and kissed her. Speaking Norman French, she said: “How wonderful to see a familiar face!”

  Ragna was thrilled to be acknowledged as the queen’s friend in front of the men who had treated her so cruelly. She replied in the same language. “Congratulations on your marriage. I’m so happy that you’re England’s queen.”

  “We’re going to be such friends.”

  “I hope so—if they don’t imprison me again.”

  “They won’t—not if I can help it.” Emma turned away and moved to her seat. She spoke a word of explanation to Ethelred, who nodded and smiled at Ragna.

  That was a good start. Ragna was heartened by Emma’s friendliness, but recalled with trepidation the words not if I can help it. Clearly Emma was not sure she could control events. And she was young, perhaps too young to have learned the tricks Ragna knew.

  Ethelred spoke in a loud voice, though even so he probably could not be heard by those on the outskirts of the crowd. “Our first and most important task is to choose a new ealdorman for Shiring.”

  Aldred boldly interrupted. “My lord king, Ealdorman Wilwulf made a will.”

  Bishop Wynstan called out: “Never ratified.”

  Aldred said: “Wilwulf intended to show his will to you, my lord king, and to ask you to approve it—but before he could do so he was murdered in his bed right here in Shiring.”

  Wynstan said scornfully: “Where is this will, then?”

  “It was in the lady Ragna’s treasury, which was stolen minutes after Wilwulf died.”

  “A nonexistent will, it seems.”

  The crowd enjoyed this, a squabble between two men of God, right at the start of the court. But then Ragna spoke up. “On the contrary,” she said. “Several copies were made. Here is one, my lord king.” She took the folded parchment from the bosom of her dress and handed it to Ethelred.

  He took it, but did not unroll it.

  Wynstan said: “It doesn’t matter if a hundred copies were made—the will is invalid.”

  Ragna said: “As you can see from the document, my lord king, it was my husband’s wish that you should make our eldest son, Osbert, ealdorman—”

  “A child four years of age!” Wynstan jeered.

  “—with me to rule as his representative until he comes of age.”

  Ethelred said: “Enough!” He paused, and they all remained silent for a moment. Having asserted his power he went on: “In times such as these, the ealdorman must have the ability to muster an army and lead men into battle.”

  The assembled noblemen nodded and murmured their agreement. Ragna realized that, much as they liked her, they did not believe in her as a military leader. She was not really surprised.

  Wynstan said: “My brother, Wigelm, has recently proved his ability in this regard, by assembling an army to fight alongside you, my lord king, at Exeter.”

  “He has,” said Ethelred.

  The battle of Exeter had been lost, and the Vikings had looted the city and then gone home; but Ragna decided not to say that. She saw that she was going to lose this argument. Immediately after a Viking victory the king was not going to appoint a woman ealdorman to lead the men of Shiring. But that had always been a faint hope.

  She had lost the first round. But she might yet gain from this decision, she told herself; perhaps Ethelred might now wish to balance the concession to Wigelm with one to her.

  She had regained her ability to strategize, she realized. The torpor of prison was wearing off rapidly. She felt enlivened.

  Aldred said: “My lord king, Wigelm and Wynstan have imprisoned the lady Ragna for almost a year, taken over her lands in the Vale of Outhen and stolen her income, and refused to return her dowry, to which she is entitled. I now ask you to protect this noble widow from her predatory in-laws.”

  Ragna realized that Aldred was coming as close as he could to accusing Ethelred of failing in his duty to care for widows.

  Ethelred looked at Wigelm. There was an undertone of anger in his voice as he said: “Is this true?”

  But it was Wynstan who answered. “The lady Ragna sought solitude in which to mourn. We merely provided her with protection.”

  “Nonsense!” said Ragna indignantly. “My door was barred on the outside! I was a prisoner.”

  Wynstan said smoothly: “The door was barred so that the children could not wander out and get lost in the forest.”

  It was a feeble excuse, but would Ethelred accept it?

  The king did not hesitate. “Locking a woman in is not protection.”

  He was not so easily fooled, Ragna saw.

  Ethelred went on: “Before I confirm Wigelm as ealdorman, I will require both Wigelm and Wynstan to swear an oath not to imprison the lady Ragna.”


  Ragna allowed herself a moment of sheer relief. She was free—for now, at least: oaths could be broken, of course.

  Ethelred went on: “Now, what’s this about Outhen? I thought she had received that land as part of her marriage contract.”

  “True,” said Wynstan. But my brother Wilwulf had no right to give it to her.”

  Ragna said indignantly: “You negotiated the marriage contract with my father! How can you repudiate it now?”

  Wynstan said smoothly: “It has belonged to my family since time immemorial.”

  “No, it hasn’t,” said the king.

  Everyone stared at him. This was a surprise intervention.

  Ethelred went on: “My father gave it to your grandfather.”

  Wynstan said: “There may be legends—”

  “No legends,” said the king. “It was the first deed I witnessed.”

  That was an unexpected piece of luck for Ragna.

  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. And it 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.

  All the same Ragna was uncomfortable when she saw Alain in Gytha’s arms. She felt uneasily that Gytha was assuming some kind of ownership. “The newest member of our family,” Gytha said, “and so handsome!”

  “It’s time for his feeding,” Ragna said, and took him back. Ragna put the baby to her breast and he began to suck enthusiastically. She had thought Gytha might leave, but instead she sat down and watched, as if to make sure Ragna was doing it right. When he paused, he puked a little of the milk, and—to Ragna’s surprise—Gytha leaned over and wiped his chin with the sleeve of her costly wool gown. It was a gesture of genuine affection.

  Ragna still did not trust Gytha, all the same.

  A few minutes later one of Ragna’s bodyguards put his head around the door and said: “Will you see Ealdorman Wigelm?”

  He was the last person on earth Ragna wanted to see. However, she thought she had better find out what he was up to. She said: “He may come in, but alone—no sidekicks. And you stay with me while he’s here.”

  Gytha heard all this and her face hardened.

  Wigelm entered looking offended. “You see, mother?” he said to Gytha. “I have to be questioned by a guard before I can see my own son!” He stared at Ragna’s uncovered breast.

  She said: “Consider how much of a fool I would have to be to trust you.” She took Alain off her nipple, but he had not had enough and he cried, so she had to put him back, and suffer Wigelm’s gawking.

  He said: “I’m the ealdorman!”

  “You’re the rapist.”

  Gytha made a disapproving noise, as if Ragna had said something discourteous. It wasn’t half as discourteous as what your son did to me, Ragna thought. It was odd, she reflected, that someone who had failed to condemn the rape would disapprove audibly of the mention of it.

  Wigelm seemed about to continue, then changed his mind and choked back his retort. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t come here for an argument.”

  “So why did you come?”

  He looked uneas
y. He sat down, then stood up again. “To talk about the future,” he said vaguely.

  What was bugging him? Ragna guessed that he was simply unable to get to grips with politics at the royal level. He understood bullying and coercion, but the king’s need to balance conflicting pressures was beyond Wigelm’s intellect. It was best to speak simply to him. She said: “My future has nothing to do with you.”

  Wigelm scratched his head, loosened his belt then tightened it, rubbed his chin, and at last said: “I want to marry you.”

  Ragna felt cold dread in her heart. “Never,” she said. “Please don’t even mention it.”

  “But I love you.”

  That was so obviously untrue that she almost laughed. “You don’t even know what that means.”

  “Everything will be different, I swear.”

  “So . . .” She looked at Gytha then back at Wigelm. “So you won’t have your men-at-arms hold me down while you fuck me?”

  Gytha made the disapproving noise again.

  “Of course I won’t,” Wigelm said in a tone of indignation, as if he would never dream of such a thing.

  “That’s the kind of promise a woman longs to hear.”

  Gytha said: “Don’t you want to be part of our family?”

  Ragna stared at her in astonishment. “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “How can you even ask me that question?”

  Wigelm said: “Why do you have to be so sarcastic?”

  Ragna took a breath. “Because I don’t love you, you don’t love me, and talk of us getting married is so ludicrous that I can’t even pretend to take you seriously.”

  Wigelm frowned, figuring out what she meant: he was not quick to grasp long sentences, she had noticed. Eventually he said: “So that’s your answer.”

  “My answer is no.”

  Gytha stood up. “We tried,” she said.

  Then she and Wigelm left.

  Ragna frowned. That was an unexpected exit line.