“’Twas a gift,” returned Egwina, as she allowed the man to examine the jewel, shrinking from his touch as she did so, for she liked not his appearance.
“A gift? I’ll warrant that thou and thy grandfather have many such?” And there was envy and avarice in the juggler’s look.
“There be many—” began Egwina, when Wulfhere interrupted her:
“Wind thy horn, child, a little distance from us that our talk be not disturbed by the sound.”
Obediently the girl ran ahead a little, and Wulfhere resumed the conversation with Ælfric concerning the atrocities committed by the Danes. The shades of evening were falling when at last the ministrel called to the girl:
“Child, is not that a monastery that looms in the distance?”
“Yes, granther,” and Egwina ran to his side.
“Then there will we abide. Long have we wayfared, and wearied am I by the journey. Though the priests may not hearken to song, or story, or glee-beam, yet will they shelter us for the night.”
Quickening their steps they entered the courtyard of the convent, which was a low building of timber, fortified by a wall.
The dwellings of the Anglo-Saxons with the exception of a few great nobles, were simple in the extreme. Yet simple as were their abodes, the monasteries were handsome, and great wealth and possessions were held by the church. Despite all this, learning was at the very lowest ebb, so much so that when Alfred was atheling, and desired to learn Latin, he could find no one in all his father’s kingdom capable of teaching him. There were no inns in England at this time, and all travelers, whether on business or pleasure, were entertained by the convents.