“Then together can we journey but a short distance, for on the morrow our paths must be sundered, as I go into Kent. But while our roads are one tell me of the deeds which the Northmen have done of which thou thyself wottest, and I in turn will tell thee that which hath happened to me.” Then, with emotion, did Wulfhere tell of his grief in the death of his grandson, Siegbert. “And I,” said Ælfric, after he had expressed his sympathy, “abode in Thetford of East Anglia at the house of Eldred the thegn, and was the chief of his gleemen. None was so honored as I, and the heart of my lord clave unto me with love. Alack! the Northman fell upon us, and I wot not whether my lord be living or dead. I fled from the foe. When I was far distant, I looked back, and behold the manor was in flames.” “Didst thou not fight for thy lord?” queried Wulfhere in amazement. “Nay; why should I risk life in vain? Naught would it have availed him. I myself would have been slain, so I fled.” “It was not the old custom,” remarked the elder Saxon, “thus to abandon one’s lord. ’Twere shame to live were he slain.” “Times are not as they once were,” returned Ælfric hastily, avoiding the glance of the harper. “Custom hath changed, and, I trow, for the better. Beautiful is thy ring, maiden! Where gottest thou it?” “’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.