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‘One of the farmers came to me with tears in his eyes.’ Edith hated that her voice seemed breathlessly at odds with her words. She swallowed and tried again. ‘He is very upset about being asked why he has failed to plant and being told that if he does not plant, you will take the corn away from him.’
His jaw became set. ‘No one has complained to me.’
‘They fear you.’
He raised his eyebrow. ‘What are you saying, Lady Edith? Why have you interrupted my sword practice for superstitious nonsense?’
Edith struggled to take a deep breath. Superstitious? ‘The blessing means a lot to the farmers. It has always been on Lady Day when the rents are paid.’
‘Times change.’
‘Have you ever actually planted corn?’
‘My father farmed.’ His eyes became hardened points of blue ice. ‘I grew up on a farm. We planted corn when the ground was able to be worked, whether or not Freya’s priest had given her blessing. The soil can be worked. I pointed this fact out to the priest when he came bleating the other day.’
Edith tapped her foot on the ground. Hot anger flowed through her. He wasn’t even going to listen to her or consult her, despite telling her that she was to be his adviser. And he’d insulted Father Wilfrid. She could imagine the priest’s jowls quivering at being informed that he behaved like a pagan priestess. ‘When did you speak with Father Wilfrid?’
‘Do we have to discuss this now?’
‘It is getting near Lady Day. It is necessary to ask for Our Lady’s blessing. Then we plant it after the first full moon,’ she said, making sure that each word was clear. ‘It is very simple and effective. It is how matters are arranged here in the North Riding.’
‘I would have considered how warm the soil was to be more important.’
‘It is not what the priest says.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Am I expected to listen to that black crow? He has already given me a lecture about how my soul is in peril unless I dismiss all pagans from my retinue and make an act of contrition for acquiring good Christian land. He suggested a donation to his church.’
Edith winced. She found Father Wilfrid overly officious as well. And he had gone beyond the bounds of looking after his flock. ‘I didn’t know about this.’
‘It was not your problem.’ If anything, his jaw had become more set.
‘Did you assure him that you could look after your soul?’
His mouth dropped open. ‘How did you know?’
She burst out laughing. She could see Father Wilfrid’s jowls shaking with rage. She almost wished she’d been there. To see the priest meet someone who was not going to bend over backwards. ‘Because it is the sort of thing I would say.’
‘You are not overly enamoured of him.’
She waved an airy hand, suddenly realising that she was on shaky ground. She might not care for the priest, but his office was important. He did do good work in this parish and the last thing she wanted was for it to be undermined. ‘He takes his responsibilities very seriously and has certain set ideas.’
‘I told him that I was less concerned about how a man prays than the strength of his sword arm. It is none of his business how I pray or if I bathe.’
‘He dared speak to you about that?’
Brand crossed his arms and his brows drew together in a stubborn line. ‘He wished me to be a good example. My habit of bathing in the mornings has apparently been noticed and commented on.’
Edith rolled her eyes. She could well believe it. The priest, like the others before him, believed bathing was sinful and allowed demons in. It was better to wash, than to immerse. As a little girl Edith had asked why Jesus was baptised in the River Jordan if what the priest had said was true? Both her parents had hushed her, but ever since all priests had treated her warily as if she was a cross to be borne, rather than someone to be embraced. Father Wilfrid had much preferred Egbert’s company.
‘It doesn’t change the rightness of the argument about the corn. The farmers look forward to his blessing on Lady Day. They regard it as necessary.’
‘And my answer remains the same. The corn needs to be planted now. I refuse to have such a man bless anything.’
‘But...but...’
‘Consider it an order unless you wish to challenge for the right to be earl. I’m surprised you felt the need to intercede on this matter. How were you hoping to convince me?’ His gaze raked her up and down. Insulting, lingering on her curves.
