By Bernard Cornwell
In a conflict of heroes, the dominion is born. on the finish of the 9th century, King Alfred of Wessex is in ailing wellbeing and fitness; his inheritor, an untested formative years. His enemy, the Danes, having didn't triumph over Wessex, now see their probability for victory. Led by means of the sword of savage warrior Harald Bloodhair, the Viking hordes assault. yet Uhtred, Alfred's reluctant warlord, proves his worthy, outwitting Harald and handing the Vikings one in every of their maximum defeats. For Uhtred, the wonder of victory is quickly overshadowed via tragedy. Breaking with Alfred, he joins the Vikings, swearing by no means back to serve the Saxon king. in its place, he'll reclaim his ancestral fort at the Northumbrian coast. Allied along with his previous pal Ragnar—and his outdated foe Haesten—he goals to invade and overcome Wessex itself. but destiny has assorted plans. The Danes of East Anglia and the Vikings of Northumbria are plotting the conquest of all Britain. whilst Alfred's daughter pleads with Uhtred for support, he can't refuse her request. In a determined gamble, he's taking command of a demoralized Mercian military, major them in an unforgettable conflict on a blood-soaked box beside the Thames. within the Burning Land, Bernard Cornwell, "the reigning king of ancient fiction" (USA Today), gives you a rousing saga of Anglo-Saxon England—an impossible to resist new bankruptcy in his exciting Saxon stories, the epic tale of the delivery of britain and the mythical king who made it attainable.
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Extra resources for Arthur Books 2 The Burning Land
The dead, he says, do not have shadow-bodies, nor can they cross the sword bridge, but instead they lie in their cold graves and wait for the final coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is proper, he says, for us to remember the dead and to pray for their immortal souls, but their bodies are gone. They are corrupt. Their eyes have melted to leave dark holes in their skulls, worms liquefy their bellies, and mould furs their bones. The saint insists that the dead do not trouble the living on Samain Eve, yet even he will take care to leave a loaf of bread beside the monastery hearth this night.
One last campaign, my dear Derfel, one last great slaughter, then we shall have peace. Pure peace. ’ He spoke exultingly. That night, among the dead, he really did see peace coming. We walked towards the fires that lay around the Roman house where Ceinwyn’s father, Gorfyddyd, lay dead. Arthur was happy that night, truly happy, for he saw his dream coming true. And it all seemed so easy. There would be one more war, then peace for evermore. Arthur was our warlord, the greatest warrior in Britain, yet that night after battle, among the shrieking souls of the smoke-wreathed dead, all he wanted was peace.
There was only the glimmering wash of moonlight that turned the stones of Dolforwyn’s royal circle into silvered shapes in the dark. I walked towards the stone circle and the sound of my heart seemed louder than the footfall of my heavy boots. Still no one appeared and for a moment I wondered if this was some elaborate jest on Merlin’s part, but then, in the centre of the stone ring, where the single stone of Powys’s kingship lay, I saw a gleam that was brighter than any reflection of misted moonlight from rain-glossed rock.
Arthur Books 2 The Burning Land by Bernard Cornwell