The Last Kingdom (The Saxon Stories, #1)

by Bernard Cornwell

“God sends temptation to test us, my lord,” he said quietly. “He sends women to test us,” the young man said harshly, “and we fail, and then he sends the Danes to punish us for our failure.”

harps. I once asked a bishop whether there were any women in heaven. “Of course there are, my lord,” he answered, happy that I was taking an interest in doctrine. “Many of the most blessed saints are women.” “I mean women we can hump, bishop.” He said he would pray for me. Perhaps he did.

“Our god is a mighty god,” Edmund declared, “the creator of the world, yet he also allows evil to exist to test us.” “Amen,” one of the priests murmured as Ivar’s interpreter translated the words. “He brought you,” the king spat, “pagans from the north! Jeremiah foretold this!” “Jeremiah?” Ivar asked, quite lost now. One of the monks had a book, the first I had seen in many years, and he unwrapped its leather cover, paged through the stiff leaves, and gave it to the king who reached into a pocket and took out a small ivory pointer that he used to indicate the words he wanted. “Quia malum ego,” he thundered, the pale pointer moving along the lines, “adduco ab aquilone et contritionem magnam!”

“It is not enough!” Edmund said. He stood up to give his next words more force. “I will rule here,” he went on, “and I will suffer your presence if I must, and I will provide you with horses, food, coin, and hostages, but only if you, and all of your men, submit to God. You must be baptized!” That word was lost on the Danish interpreter, and on the king’s, and finally Ubba looked to me for help. “You have to stand in a barrel of water,” I said, remembering how Beocca had baptized me after my brother’s death, “and they pour more water over you.” “They want to wash me?” Ubba asked, astonished. I shrugged. “That’s what they do, lord.” “You will become Christians!” Edmund said, then shot me an irritated look. “We can baptize in the river, boy. Barrels are not necessary.” “They want to wash you in the river,” I explained to Ivar and Ubba, and the Danes laughed. Ivar thought about it. Standing in a river for a few minutes was not such a bad thing, especially if it meant he could hurry back to quell whatever trouble afflicted Northumbria. “I can go on worshipping Odin once I’m washed?” he asked. “Of course not!” Edmund said angrily. “There is only one god!” “There are many gods,” Ivar snapped back, “many! Everyone knows that.” “There is only one god, and you must serve him.” “But we’re winning,” Ivar explained patiently, almost as if he talked to a child, “which means our gods are beating your one god.” The king shuddered at this awful heresy. “Your gods are false gods,” he said....