But the atheling asked me to think of them as friends who would feel for me, saying, too, that of my own history he would not write, and so kindly did he urge me, drawing me on, that at last I had told him all from the beginning of my troubles, even to the time when I rode with Alswythe into Glastonbury and sought the bishop.
"That is well told," said Alfred, when I had finished so far, and the king sighed a little, but left all the speaking to his son.
"Now, Wulfhere," he went on, "it is your turn," and so made the old warrior take up the tale; but he bade him begin at the first fight.
However, Wulfhere must needs go back to the war arrow business, and then to the staying of the flight at Cannington, and in this Alfred did not stop him, though I thought it more than needed.
So he told all his tale, even to the slaying of the berserk, and things like that.

And as he told of the breaking of the ring, and our stand inside of it, Alfred the Atheling wrote fast, and presently he bade Wulfhere cease, and going to a corner took down a harp, while his father smiled on him, and tuning it, broke out into a wondrous war song that made our hearts beat fast, for we seemed to feel that it was full of the very shout and ring of battle inside our circle of foes, and we were as men who looked on and saw our own deeds over again, only made more glorious by the hand of the poet and the voice of the singer.
So that when he ended the king's eyes flashed, and Ceorle's face was red and good to look at with a war light on it, and Wislac shouted, as I had nearly done.
But at that sound, strange in the king's presence, we all started, and Wislac seemed abashed.
"Truly, Lord King," he said humbly, "I could not help it." "Almost had I done as you did," said the kindly king.

"Alfred must bear the blame.

Now shall you tell your story." But Wislac said he had nought to add to Wulfhere's tale, save that Aldhelm here had saved him at his own cost, and that he had had, moreover, as much fighting as he was like ever to want.
But even from him Alfred gained many things about the fighting, and from Aldhelm also, and these he wrote down.
Thus we all told our tales, and they were long in the telling, so that when Aldhelm had finished, the king rose up, blaming Alfred gently for the long sitting, saying, however, that he had feared somewhat of the sort, but that doubtless the thanes were more wearied than either of the other three who had listened.
"Now," he said, "well have you four thanes deserved of me and of all, and you shall not say that the king is ungrateful.

And I think that each of you has said less of your own selves than might be said, or, indeed, than is said in these letters.