Eagle in the Snow: The Classic Bestseller (Phoenix Press)

by Wallace Breem

“I was on the Saxon Shore under my countryman, Nectaridus,” he explained. “He is a great fighter.” “Did you enjoy it?” He shrugged. “It was so cold standing there on those great flat-roofed towers at Lemanis. The wind howled in your face and your eyes ached as you stared out into the darkness. The Saxons used to slip in quietly if they could, sails lowered, on the midnight tide. If you spotted them you hit them with the ballistae until their ships broke up. Then you killed the survivors with arrows while they struggled in the surf.” “Good shooting,” I said. I was impressed. “That was Nectaridus. He insisted that we must never fight dry Saxons: we must always kill them while they are still wet.”

If the empire were to die it would be because the people in it who held posts of responsibility no longer cared. They could not govern themselves and they had lost the confidence to govern others.