The Empty Throne (The Saxon Stories #8)

by Bernard Cornwell

when a man must choose between nothing and everything he has small choice.

Good plot setup.

“Are there herrings in heaven?” I remember asking Father Beocca. “I can’t think so.” “Then what do the puffins eat if there aren’t any fish?” “None of us eat in heaven. We sing God’s glories instead.” “We don’t eat? We just sing forever?” “And ever, amen.” It sounded boring then, it still sounds boring now,

“So now we make her Mercia’s ruler,” I said. “How?” “How do you think? By killing any bastard who opposes her.” Finan smiled. “Oh,” he said, “by persuasion!” “Exactly,” I agreed.

I knew little of the Welsh except that they were Christian, spoke a barbarous tongue and, if Gerbruht was right, ate seaweed.

And so, for the first but not for the last time in my life, I came to Brunanburh.

Oh, are you going to survive for yet another book?

“That has to be Sigtryggr,” she said, stepping back to join me. And so it was, and so I saw Sigtryggr Ivarson for the first time.

"First time"? So he lives, as do you?

An Excerpt from Warriors of the Storm

Oh! So there's more!