They arrived in Wigleihg early in the evening.

They arrived in Wigleihg early in the evening. The village stood in a rise,its fields sloping away to all sides, and it was always windy. After two weeks in the bustle of Kingsbridge, the familiar place seemed small and quiet, just a scatter of rough dwellings along the road that lead to the manor house and the church. The manor was as large as a Kingsbridge merchant’s home, with bedrooms on an upper floor. The priest’s house was also a fine dwelling, and a few of the peasants houses were substantial. But most of the homes were two-rooms hovels, one room normally being occupied by livestock and the other serving as kitchen and bedroom for all the family. Only he curch was built of stone.
On the far side of the hundred acre field, half hidden in the trees at the edge of he forest, was her home. It was even smaller than the peasant’s hovels, having only one room, which was shared with the cow at night. It was made of wattle and daub: tree branches stuck upright in the ground, with twigs interwoven basket fashion, the gaps plugged with a sticky mixture of mud, straw and cow dung. There was a hole in the thatched roof to let out the smoke of the fire in the middle of the earth floor. Such houses lasted only a few years then had to be rebuilt. It now seemed meaner then ever to Gwenda. She was determined not to spend her life in such aplace, having babies every year or two, most of whom died for lack of food. She would not live like her mother. She would rather die.
From the book ‘World without end’ by Ken Follet