And then did the King call his brother the Atheling to his side, and he spoke with him tenderly, and bade him be comforted. "How could man die better than face to foe, striving for his country, and for the blessed Truth, dear brother?" he said. "Now I am wounded sore, and my spirit tells me that I shall die; and for that my heart rejoices, for by dying shall I gain a better crown than one of earthly power, and by death shall I enter into life." And Alfred bowed his head and wept, for his heart was very sore now; and Wulnoth stood by, for his it was to guard the King's tent, and he wondered yet more and more; for here was a second King dying, and he also, like as Edmund had done, spoke of victory and life, and seemed glad and happy, and not like those of the Danes and the Old Saxons, who only spoke of going to the dark storm-land. But they could not tarry long where the King lay, for the foe pressed too hard; and so they hurried southwards, and the army broke into small parties, that they might travel the more swiftly and securely. And so they came south by Winchester, the King's town, and even there they did not stay, but passed on into the land of Durnovaria, or as we now call it Dorchester. And there did the King tarry, for he was too sick to journey farther, though there was some talk of reaching the sea, and sending him afar into safety. But his wounds were bad, and his strength was gone, and his mind weary for his kingdom, and for the land at large, and for the faith of the Lord; and he knew that he must soon pass hence, and be at peace. And to him came his aged mother Osburga, whom neither grief, nor peril, nor weariness could conquer; and she, and the Abbot Hugoline, and Alfred, they tended the King in his last hours of pain and sorrow, and whispered words of good cheer to him, while Osric, and Ethelred the Ealdorman, went back with the forces, and made another stand against the foe, who pursued hard upon their track. And there did King Ethelred breathe his last, and commit his soul into the keeping of his Saviour; and from there did they carry his body to the minster at Wimborne, and there did they bury the King. And Alfred the Atheling had the crown placed upon his head, and became Alfred the King; and of all Saxon Kings, did he prove the best, and the bravest, and the wisest; so that in after days his fame was sung and he was called "The Great Thane" and "The Bretwalda of the English" and "The Shepherd of his people." Yet on that very day whereon he was crowned did Wulnoth the Wanderer come upon him in the church; and lo, he knelt, and he prayed, and as he prayed he wept; and Wulnoth spoke with the King, for Alfred made a friend of the Wanderer, and he asked him why he wept. "Thou art King now, and thou hast a kingdom, and thou hast men to fight, and thou thyself art a warrior; wherefore, then, dost thou weep, O King?"