The Winter King (The Warlord Chronicles, #1)

by Bernard Cornwell

‘Every minute of every day and every moment of every night you must be open to the Gods, and if you are, then they will come. Not always when you want them, of course, but if you never ask, they’ll never answer;

he was simply Arthur, a good man of infectious confidence, impatient will and iron-hard resolve.

You must learn to laugh, he once told me, or else you’ll just weep yourself to death.

Like Arthur, he had the ability to dominate a room and to make a crowded hall seem empty when he left, but

where Arthur’s presence was generous and enthusiastic, Merlin’s was always disturbing.

‘I failed Arthur,’ I said bitterly. ‘Everyone fails Arthur. He expects too much. Now go.’

If he was defeated, of course, they’d have to grovel to Gorfyddyd, but grovelling, I’ve noticed, comes naturally to Christians.

We Irish know one thing above all others: an enemy forgiven is an enemy who will have to be fought over and over again.

by always believing that people are inherently good, even the worst of them, and that is why, mark my words, he will never have peace. He longs for peace, he talks of peace, but his own trusting soul is the reason he will always have enemies.