E-text prepared by Martin Robb
The whole of my story seems to me to begin on the day when Istood, closely guarded, before my judges, in the great circle ofthe people at the Folk Moot of the men of Somerset gathered on theancient hill of Brent. All my life before that seems to have beenas nothing, so quiet and uneventful it was compared to what cameafter. I had grown from boyhood to manhood in my father's greathall, on the little hill of Cannington that looks out over themouth of the river Parret to the blue hills beyond. And there, whenI was but two-and-twenty and long motherless, I succeeded him asthane, and tried to govern my people as well and wisely as he, thatI too might die loved and honoured as he died. And that life lastedbut three years.
Maybe, being young and headstrong, I spoke at times, when thefeasting was over and the ale cup went round, too boldly of thethings that were beyond me, and dared, in my want of experience, tocriticize the ways of the king and his ordering of matters --thinking at the same time no thought of disloyalty; for had anyonedisparaged the king to myself my sword would have been out tochastise the speaker in a moment. But, as it ever is, what seemswrong in another may be passed over in oneself.
However that may be, it came to pass that Matelgar, the thane ofStert, a rich and envious man, saw his way through this conceit ofmine to his own profit. For Egbert, the wise king, was but a fewyears dead, and it was likely enough that some of the houses of theold seven kings might dare to make headway against Ethelwulf hissuccessor, and for a time the words of men were watched, lest aninsurrection might be made unawares. I thought nothing of this, norindeed dreamt that such a thing might be, nor did one ever warnme.
My father and this Matelgar were never close friends, the opennature of the one fitting ill with the close and grasping ways ofthe other. Yet, when Matelgar spoke me fair at the rere-feast of