“Why could we not live in Winchester?” asked the girl after a moment’s silence. “Methinks that we could find some thegn to take us under his mund. Why, grandfather, is not that the city where the king abideth?” She stopped short, and half turned as though to return to the town. Wulfhere smiled. “The king hath already sought the palace at Chippenham,” he said. “Wottest thou not that by the doom of the witan he cannot dwell all the year in one burgh only? And I wish not to seek the protection of any lord but him in these troublesome times. Alfred hath shown himself able to cope with the invader, and there is surety nowhere else for life and limb. ’Tis for thy weal, child, that I fear, and to none but him will I commend thee. Besides, to whom but the king doth the protection of the wanderer belong?” Egwina turned with a half sigh, for deep down in her heart lurked the wish to see again the noble maiden and the youth who had spoken so kindly to them the day before, and in leaving Winchester she felt that she left also the probability of seeing them once more. But unquestioned obedience from child to parent was the rule in those days, and so without further remark she trudged on, varying the monotony of the journey by frequent blasts of the horn. Presently the mellow notes of another horn floated to their ears. Wulfhere glanced back over his shoulder. “Behold, another cometh,” he said. “Stop, Egwina! If he choose to bear us company, the way will not seem so long.” They waited for him, and soon the juggler came up with them. “Whither away, my merry man?” cried Wulfhere heartily, as the gleeman approached. “Brothers we be of the same craft. Therefore, if it seems good to thee, let us bear each other company.” The juggler hesitated a moment, and then answered: “Willing am I for a short while at least; if it so be that the girl will wind the horn while thou and I talk by the way.” “With right good-will will she do so,” answered the harper. “’Tis as easily wound for three as for two, and always doth she wind it to save me the toil. Wulfhere is not what he once was!” “Wulfhere is thy name?” questioned the other, fixing his glittering eyes upon the maiden with such a look that she shrank from it, and crept close to the side of her grandsire. “Ælfric am I called in East Anglia, which is my home; but the Danes have driven us from our houses, or pressed into slavery our people, and I fled into Wessex for safety.” “Brothers we be in craft, and sibbe also in the fact that we flee from the Dane,” remarked Wulfhere. “Fearful is the pirate who hath so ruthlessly destroyed the homes and laid waste the land of our people.” “Whither art thou going?” queried Ælfric. “North into Berkshire and from thence into Wiltshire,” answered the old man.