Charles Cordell > Charles's Quotes

“ Charles Cordell, a former soldier, writes with bravura confidence.”
― The Times

“Do not miss this evocative account of the English Civil War, and the ordinary men caught up in it." - God's Vindictive Wrath by Charles Cordell”
― Ben Kane

“The ground shudders from cavalry attack and cannon fire. You can smell the sweat of fear." - The Keys of Hell and Death by Charles Cordell”
― David Gilman

“Straight into the action, fast-paced and authentic. This story captures all the confusion, fear and excitement of battle. It will appeal to anyone who enjoys historical adventure novels." - God's Vindictive Wrath by Charles Cordell”
― Michael Arnold

“I have been waiting for this second novel - The Keys of Hell and Death by Charles Cordell - and am not disappointed. Once again he evokes the experience of the Civil War soldier more vividly than ever before.”
― Ronald Hutton

“ The Keys of Hell and Death by Charles Cordell - plunges the reader into the very trenches, hedgerows, ridges and streets of the war.”
― Miranda Malins

“An exciting minute-by-minute story of the English Civil War … from the soldier’s point of view … the historical accuracy is fantastic … the storyline and writing style tremendously exciting." - God's Vindictive Wrath by Charles Cordell”
― Historical Novel Society

“Fast-paced and authentic. With characters that are colourful and believable. There are not enough tales like this.”
― Michael Arnold

“Everyone who has an interest in the History of Winchester, the Civil War In Hampshire and the 17th Century needs to read this - Desecration: Winchester 1642 by Charles Cordell”
― Warwick Louth

“Bible in one hand, pistol in the other, the preacher sat astride a horse, his voice lifted to God’s light and a clear sky.”
― Charles Cordell, God's Vindictive Wrath

“Only the poor remained, those who had no money and nowhere else to go. Another governor, more merchants and soldiers would come to take the place of those that left. But the poor always stayed. They always stayed put. And they always stayed poor.”
― Charles Cordell, The Keys of Hell and Death

“The horse’s hooves crashed out on the stone floor, echoing in the arched entrance. Ahead, the nave stretched, vast, empty, bathed in colour; the winter sun streaming through stained glass between great arches. The horse snorted, its measured steps ringing out on the flagstones and tombs.”
― Charles Cordell, Desecration: Winchester 1642

“Grenville's line of Cornishmen swayed and lurched, a low growl running through the ranks like a storm far out at sea, the boulders grinding as the waves built. And then it burst, men yelling, shaking their weapons in the air, the pikes clashing, thumping the ground, shouting, demanding, exclaiming, 'Kernow vedn keskerras!' Cornwall will march!”
― Charles Cordell, The Keys of Hell and Death

“But God knew how he missed the sea. He missed it in the sun, in the wind and the dark. He even missed the hiss of rain sweeping across it. He missed the dancing sunlight, its ever-shifting tint and hue, scudding cloud and shadow – dappled, ruffled, heaving, waves ridden by white horses, spume streaked, fierce and shrieking. He missed its limitless, open call, its ungoverned, unchecked freedom, the pull of the horizon, an unknown shore, clarity and unfathomable deep. Most of all he missed the 'mordroz': the sound of the sea, its soothing whisper, its pounding drum, its howling fury. For the sea called to him still; it was in his blood, wanted him back, sucked at his soul, clawing, smothering, dragging him down, a restless lover, a shining temptress that could never be sated.”
― Charles Cordell, The Keys of Hell and Death

“Shit on the tyranny of privilege and oppression that enclosed common land.”
― Charles Cordell, God's Vindictive Wrath

“As one, they yelled the name of a princess butchered, a child locked in a barren convent, the last drifting snow of Glyndŵr. ‘Gwenllian!”
― Charles Cordell, God's Vindictive Wrath

“Spike, rake, sponge, charge, wad, shot, wad – the gun crews worked like automatons. There was something extraordinary in the way that every man performed his motions as a part of the action. Every movement was synchronised with the next. They were a perfect machine – each one a piece of the mechanism, like the wheels of the watch in his pocket. He could think of no other example of men working together with such precision. This was man, industry and science in unison. Was this the way of the future? It was a wondrous and near-perfect thing. But it was a perfection bent on destruction.”
― Charles Cordell, God's Vindictive Wrath

“The gun stood on its platform, staring out over the breastwork of earth and timber, out across the steep valley to the hill beyond; a flat-topped hill, a great field of wheat laid over it, ripening and shimmering in the late afternoon sun; a cornfield filled with an army, a Cornish army, a superstitious, idolatrous army; an army of half-wild, barbarous heathens; a cornfield and an army to be cut down; a sacrifice to be reaped. 'For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.”
― Charles Cordell, The Keys of Hell and Death

“Ralph’s horse shifted under him. It sensed the danger, the fear, the icy sweat that ran down his back. He laid a calming hand on the animal’s thick veined neck. Breda had carried him across the battlefield of Edgehill, got him safe away at Aylesbury, Brentford and Turnham. Could they make it back behind Winchester’s walls? The great charger stepped backward. Along their short line, other horses were backing up, tossing their heads, whinnying.
‘As you were!’ Smith held them in check. ‘On my order. Keep close. Together.’ He looked at them. Looked again at the enemy about them. ‘Now! Ride for the gate!”
― Charles Cordell, Desecration: Winchester 1642

“Of all the many novels set in the English Civil War that I have read, this was the one that described most perfectly the use of the different arms and the experience of the face of battle. It was also the one that made me care most about the characters.”
― Ronald Hutton

“Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.”
― John Donne, The Poems of John Donne (Volume 1); Miscellaneous Poems (Songs and Sonnets) Elegies. Epithalamions, or Marriage Songs. Satires. Epigrams. the Progress of the Soul. Notes

“In the case of good books, the point is not to see how many of them you can get through, but rather how many can get through to you.”
― Mortimer J. Adler

“The Reformation of the Landscape: Religion, Identity”
― Jonathan Healey, The Blazing World: A New History of Revolutionary England, 1603-1689

“Stirring. A great read! You can almost hear the cannon roar and the thunder of hooves. Do not miss this evocative account of the start of the English Civil War.”
― Ben Kane

“I have been waiting for this second novel - The Keys of Hell and Death - in Charles Cordell's series, and am not disappointed. Once more, he evokes the experience of the Civil War soldier, in every branch of arms, more vividly than ever before.”
― Professor Ronald Hutton

“ Maskirovka, a pulse-pounding thriller by debut author Willi Pochinov plunges disgraced officer Edward van der Velde into a web of Russian deception, coups, and disinformation from Suffolk to the Black Sea, where truth is the ultimate casualty.

In an era where truth is a battlefield and deception reigns, Willi Pochinov’s debut novel, Maskirovka, emerges as a gripping political thriller that captures the zeitgeist of our disinformation age.

But Maskirovka is more than a thriller — it’s a meditation on trust in an age where reality itself is weaponized. As Edward grapples with his dual identities and the machinations of those around him, readers are left questioning: when nothing is as it seems, who can you believe?

For fans of espionage and political drama, this fiercely contemporary novel is a must-read, proving that even in his ninth decade, Pochinov is a formidable new voice in the genre.”
― Table Reads Magazine

“Well, the truth is I’m in a bit of trouble. After that business on the bridge, I was going to be court martialled. I thought it was so bloody unfair… Well the thing is, I’ve escaped in order to clear my name.’
Oleg roared with laughter and crushed Edward’s ribs with a bear hug. ‘You! Bloody outlaw! Robin bloody Hood! How much price on your head? Maybe I claim bounty, eh?’
Shit, Oleg wasn’t taking this at all seriously. He should never have asked…
‘Of course, I help! Leave to me. One condition, you grow big beard, like oligarch… I have idea. Keep head very down. Will find you in two days. Then we hide you very deep.”
― Willi Pochinov, Maskirovka