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the crowd of onlookers, and the music became more cheerful and spirited and everyone began to clap and sing. None of the august guests danced, of course, they merely looked on. I could see that the dancing was uncomplicated, a few steps forward, a few steps back, a sideways shuffle. To escape from my drunken neighbour, whose head was beginning to loll heavily against my shoulder, I decided to try. A little fuddled, I rose from my bench and joined the dancers. Among the line of women and girls coming towards me, I realised, was the girl harpist. She was wearing a bodice of russet red and a skirt of contrasting brown, which showed off her figure, and with her brown hair cut short and lightly freckled skin, she was the picture of fresh womanhood. Each time we passed she gave my hand a little squeeze. Gradually the music grew faster and faster, and the circles whirled with increasing speed, until we were short of breath. The music rose to a crescendo and then stopped abruptly. Laughing and smiling, the dancers staggered to a halt and there in front of me was the harpist girl. She stood before me, triumphant with her evening’s success. Still intoxicated, I reached forward, took her in my arms and gave her a kiss. A heartbeat later, I heard a short, loud crash. It was a sound that few people in that gathering could have ever heard in their lives — the sound of expensive glass shattering. I looked up and there was Aelfgifu, standing up. She had flung her goblet on the table. As her uncle and his guests looked up in amazement, Aelfgifu stalked out of the hall, her back rigid with anger.
    Swaying tipsily, I suddenly felt wretched. I knew that I had offended the woman I adored.

    “W ar, hunting and love are as full of trouble as they are of pleasure.’ Edgar launched another of his proverbs at me next morning, as we were getting ready to visit the hawk shed, which he called the hack house, and feed the hawks.
    “What do you mean?’ I asked, though I had a shrewd idea why he had mentioned love.
‘Our lady’s got a quick temper.’
‘What makes you say that?’
    ‘Come on, lad. I’ve known Aelfgifu since she was a skinny girl growing up. As a youngster she was always trying to get away from the stuffiness of the burh. Used to spend half her days with my wife and me down at the cottage. Playing around like any ordinary child, though she tended to get into more mischief than most. A real little vixen she could be when she was caught out. But she’s got a good heart and we love her still. And we were very proud when she was wed to Knut, though by then she had become a grand lady.’
‘What’s that got to do with her bad temper?’
    Edgar paused with his hand on the door into the hack house, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked straight at me. ‘Don’t think you’re the first young man she’s taken a fancy to,’ he said. ‘Soon after you arrived, it was clear that you were not cut out to be kennelman. I began wondering why you were brought all the way from London and I asked the steward, who told me that you had been included in my lady’s travelling party on her particular instructions. So I had my guess, but I wasn’t sure until I saw her tantrum last night. No harm in that,’ he went on, ‘Aelfgifu’s not been so well treated these past months, what with that other queen, Emma, and Knut being away all the time. I ‘d say she has a right to her own life. And she’s been more than good to me and my wife. When our daughter was taken by the Danes, it was Aelfgifu who offered to pay her ransom if she was ever located. And she would still do so.’

    The hawking season was now upon us, and for the previous two months we had been preparing Edgar’s hunting birds as they emerged from their moult. The hack house contained three peregrine falcons, a merlin, and a pair of small sparrowhawks, as well as the costly gyrfalcon which had first got me into trouble. The gyrfalcon, Edgar pointed out, was