"Peace to you, my son," he said, as Wulf bowed respectfully to him,"
I have called not only as the prior of the monastery founded by the
piety of one of the thanes of Steyning, but to welcome one who was
a pupil at Earl Harold's college of Waltham, in which I at one time
was a preceptor. Not when you were there, for I was installed here
just before your good father's death."
"I left there two years since," Wulf said, "in order to be one of
Earl Harold's pages; but I have not forgotten my reading, for the
earl insists that his pages give two hours a day to study."
"Tis a good rule," the prior said, "for learning is like a weapon,
it soon becomes rusted when thrown aside. You will, I hope, continue
the habit."
"I should wish to do so, father, but there are no manuscripts here."
"In that at least I can supply your wants," the prior said. "My
monastery has a good library, and it will be quite at your service,
and also my advice in any matters that may concern you. My almoner
here, brother John, knows pretty well the circumstances of most of
your people, and may be able to tell you where your alms may be
well bestowed, and where they would do more harm than good. The
worthless are ever the most importunate, and for every honest man
in need there are twenty rogues abegging."
The ice once broken, the prior came over frequently. His conversation
was bright and interesting. He himself was engaged in writing a
history of the Saxon and Danish monarchs from the times of Alfred,
and had stores of anecdotes of people and events of whom Wulf had
before heard only vague traditions from the wandering singers and
story-tellers who travelled the country, and were welcome guests
in every household.
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