ot willing to be mistaken.

"I am Bishop of Sherborne," said he, smiling in an absent way, and
waving his hand for us to go.

So we went, and thereafter were splendidly treated as most honoured
guests, even to the replacing of the broad hat which Wulfhere had gotten
from the franklin by a plain steel helm, with other changes of garment,
for which we were most glad.

Now as we bathed and changed, I found that letter which Leofwine the
hermit priest had given me, and I prayed the brother to give it to the
bishop at some proper moment, and he took it away with him. I had
forgotten it in the greater business.

While we ate and drank, and talked of how to reach Eanulf the Ealdorman,
the brother came back and brought us a message, saying:

"The bishop bids you rest here in peace. He has sent messengers to
Eanulf, bidding him come here in all haste to speak with him and you."

So I asked where he was, and the brother said that he lay at Wells,
which pleased Wulfhere, who said that he would be here shortly, and that
we were in luck, seeing that he wanted another good night's rest; and
indeed so did I, sorely, though that I might yet stay near Alswythe was
better still.

Before the two hours the bishop had set, there was a clamour in the
great yard, and we thought the messenger from Osric had surely come. And
so it was, for almost directly the bishop sent for us, and we were taken
back to the same chamber. But he was alone now, and motioned us to seats
beside him to one side.

Then they brought in a thane whom I did not know, and he said he was a
messenger from Osric, laying a letter on the table at the same time. I
saw that his armour was battle stained, and that he looked sorely downcast.

Not so the bishop as he read, for that which was written he had already
expected, and he never changed his set look. Once he read the letter
through, and then again aloud for us to hear. Thus it ran after fit
greeting:

"Now what befell in the first fight you know or shall know shortly from
our trusty messenger Heregar, by whom the flight was stayed from that
field, on the Hill of Cannington. And this was well done. So, seeing
that the Danes had drawn off, I myself, foolishly deeming the matter at
an end, left three hundred men on that hill to watch the Danes back to
their ships, and returned to the town, there to muster again the men who
were sound, and, if it were possible, to lead them on the Danes as they
went on board again