The Pale Horseman (The Saxon Stories, #2)

by Bernard Cornwell

We make much in this life if we are able. We make children and wealth and amass land and build halls and assemble armies and give great feasts, but only one thing survives us. Reputation. I could not walk away.

“Words are like breath,” she said. “You say them and they’re gone. But writing traps them. You could write down stories, poems.”