“And what art thou called, child?” asked Adiva. “Egwina.” “Egwina, and I shall call thee ‘the fair’ also,” said the dame. “And I, Jamvid, mother of wolf sons,” laughed the swineherd; “for so I found her.” “And I, noble heart,” said Wilfred. “With maidens like thee to grow into wives and mothers, the land could survive the ravaging of a thousand Guthrums.” Egwina flushed rosy red with pleasure. Then cried Denewulf, “Let us to bed, good people! With the breaking of morn must I to the forest.” The men drew their coats around them and lay down by the fire on the floor, while the dame and the maiden reposed on the tick of straw. CHAPTER VIII—ADIVA GROWS ANGRY Life in the cottage was simple in the extreme. Each morning Denewulf looked after his nets and traps, and then repaired to the forest where he tended the swine. The stranger exerted himself in the chase and proved to be very proficient in woodcraft and the lore of the forest. Adiva took Egwina at once into her heart, and taught her all the simple housewifely arts that she knew. The girl soon became an expert in the use of spindle and distaff, and busily did the shuttles fly through the long winter evenings. “Howsomever did I do without thee, child?” she would say as Egwina flitted about singing at her tasks. “Dark will be the day that thou dost leave me. I pray that it will never come.” One day the girl was in the cottage busily spinning when Wilfred the stranger entered. He threw some fagots on the fire and sitting before it, drew from within the folds of his tunic a little book which he perused intently, as was his wont. The maiden observed him with interest. Presently he turned toward her with a smile. “Why dost thou watch me so, Egwina?” “I was wondering what the book contained that thou dost read in it so much,” returned the maiden in some confusion. “It holds much that is full of solace,” answered he. “Tell me, Egwina, dost know how to read?” “To read? No; why should I?” asked the girl in surprise. “Granther knew not how; nor does Denewulf, nor Adiva; nor any of the gentles. In truth, none I have ever known, save thee, have known how. Why should they? There was no need. Granther said that it was only for priests or monks. The gleemen need it not for singing or the harp. The ceorl needs it neither for ploughing, or for sowing, or for tending his herds. And how would it help the gentle in hunting or any of his pastimes? Weaving and embroidery for women, sports and war for men. There is no need of reading.”