The Romans had brought Sussex within the great network of their road system; but the South Saxons no doubt took special pains to cut off those parts of the roads which led across their own frontier. At any rate, it is quite clear that Sussex did not largely participate in the general life of the new England, and that intercourse with the rest of the world was extremely limited. The South Saxon kings probably lived for the most part at Chichester, though no doubt they had _hams_, after the royal Teutonic fashion generally, in many other parts of their territory; and they moved about from one to the other, with their suite of thegns, eating up in each what food was provided by their serfs for their use, and then moving on to the next. The isolation of Sussex is strikingly shown by its long adherence to the primitive paganism. Missionaries from Rome, under the guidance of Augustine, converted Kent as early as 597. For Kent was the nearest kingdom to the continent; it contained the chief port of entry for continental travellers, Richborough--the Dover of those days--and its king, accustomed to continental connections, had married a Christian Frankish princess from Paris. Hence Kent was naturally the first Teutonic principality to receive the faith. Next came Northumbria, Lindsey, East Anglia, Wessex, and even inland Mercia. But Sussex still held out for Thor and Woden as late as 679, three-quarters of a century after the conversion of Kent, and twenty years after Mercia itself had given way to the new faith. Even when Sussex was finally converted, the manner in which the change took place was characteristic. It was not by missionaries from beyond the Weald in Kent or Surrey, nor from beyond the marsh in Wessex. An Irish monk, Baeda tells us, coming ashore on the open coast near Chichester, established a small monastery at Bosham--even then, no doubt, a royal _ham_, as we know it was under Harold--'a place,' says the old historian significantly, 'girt round by sea and forest.' (It lies just on the mark between Wessex and the South Saxons.) AEthelwealh, the king--a curious name, for it means 'noble Welshman' (perhaps he was of mixed blood)--had already been baptized in Mercia, and his wife was the daughter of a Christian ealdorman of the Worcester-men; but the rest of the principality was heathen. The Irish monk effected nothing; but shortly after Wilfrith, the fiery Bishop of York, on one of his usual flying visits to Rome, got shipwrecked off Selsea. With his accustomed vigour, he went ashore, and began a crusade in the heathen land. He was able at once to baptize the 'leaders and soldiers'--that is to say, the free military English population; while his attendant priests--Eappa, Padda, Burghelm, and Oiddi (it is pleasant to preserve these little personal touches)--proceeded to baptize the 'plebs'--that is to say, the servile Anglicised Celt-Euskarian substratum--up and down the country villages.