The Flame Bearer Quotes

“So long as we remember names, so long those people live.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“So we all die?'
"No, no, no! We fight them!'
'How do you fight a dragon?'
'With prayer, boy, with prayer.'
'So we do all die”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“We should know who they are," I said, "before we kill them. That's just being polite.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“When rumours fly, when false tales are being told, be the storyteller.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“I remember Ragnar laughing one day. "It is so kind of the Christians! They put their wealth in one building and mark it with a great cross! It makes life so easy.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“You should always plan your battles form the enemy's point of view.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“It's better to make the wrong choice," my father had continued, "than to make no choice at all.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“It will never end.
Till the world ends in the chaos of Ragnarok, we will fight for our women, for our land, and for our homes. Some Christians speak of peace, of the evil of war, and who does not want peace? But then some crazed warrior comes screaming his god's filthy name into your face and his only ambitions are to kill you, to rape your wife, to enslave your daughters, and take your home, and so you must fight.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“We are almost men, not quite warriors, and on some fateful day we meet an enemy for the first time and we hear the chants of battle, the threatening clash of blades on shields, and we begin to learn that the poets are wrong and that the proud songs lie.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“I was still screaming at the enemy, promising them death. I was Thor, I was Odin, I was the lord of battle.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“I was born a Saxon, but raised by Danes, my daughter had married a Norseman, my dearest friend was Irish, my woman was a Saxon, the mother of my children had been Danish, my gods were pagan, and my oath was sworn to AEthelflaed, a Christian. Whose side was I on?”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“When a man cannot fight he should curse. The gods like to feel needed.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“Do you ever read the scriptures?"
"Every day," I said enthusiastically, "not a moment passes that I don't have a quick read of Ieremias or dip into Ezekiel."
She smiled, amused. "What a barbarian you are!”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“When a man cannot fight he would curse. The gods like to feel needed.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“Except we were there, and I was in a vengeful mood. My cousin was still in Bebbanburg. Æthelhelm was trying to destroy my daughter and her husband. Constantin had humiliated me by driving me from my ancestral land. I had not seen Eadith, my wife, in a month. So someone had to suffer.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“My father tried to control you and said it couldn't be done. He also advised me never to underestimate you. He said you look stupid but act clever."
"I thought it was the other way around, lord.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“Besides, as I have never tired of telling my Christian followers, we pagans rarely persecute Christians. We believe there are many gods, so we accept another man’s religion as his own affair, while Christians, who perversely insist that there is only one god, think it their duty to kill, maim, enslave, or revile anyone who disagrees.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“When we are young, we yearn for battle. In the firelit halls we listen to the songs of heroes; how they broke the foemen, splintered the shield wall, and soaked their swords in the blood of enemies. As youngsters we listen to the boast of warriors, hear their laughter as they recall battle, and their bellows of pride when their lord reminds them of some hard-won victory. And those youngsters who have not fought, who have yet to hold their shield against a neighbour's shield in the wall, are despised and disparaged. So we practise. Day after day we practise, with spear, sword, and shield. We begin as children, learning blade-craft with wooden weapons, and hour after hour we hit and are hit. We fight against men who hurt us in order to teach us, we learn not to cry when the blood from a split skull sheets across the eyes, and slowly the skill of the sword-craft builds.
Then the day comes when we are ordered to march with the men, not as children to hold the horses and to scavenge weapons after the battle, but as men. If we are lucky we have a battered old helmet and a leather jerkin, maybe even a coat of mail that hangs like a sack. We have a sword with a dented edge and a shield that is scored by enemy blades. We are almost men, not quite warriors, and on some fateful day we meet an enemy for the first time and we hear the chants of battle, the threatening clash of blades on shields, and we begin to learn that the poets are wrong and that the proud songs lie. Even before the shield walls meet, some men shit themselves. They shiver with fear. They drink mead and ale. Some boast, but most are quiet unless they join a chant of hate. Some men tell jokes, and the laughter is nervous. Others vomit. Our battle leaders harangue us, tell us of the deeds of our ancestors, of the filth that is the enemy, of the fate our women and children face unless we win, and between the shield walls the heroes strut, challenging us to single combat, and you look at the enemy's champions and they seem invincible. They are big men; grim-faced, gold hung, shining in mail, confident, scornful, savage.
The shield wall reeks of shit, and all a man wants is to be home, to be anywhere but on this field that prepares for battle, but none of us will turn and run or else we will be despised for ever. We pretend we want to be there, and then the wall at last advances, step by step, and the heart is thumping fast as a bird's wing beating, the world seems unreal. Thought flies, fear rules, and then the order to quicken the charge is shouted, and you run, or stumble, but stay in your rank because this is the moment you have spent a lifetime preparing for, and then, for the first time, you hear the thunder of shield walls meeting, the clangour of battle swords, and the screaming begins.
It will never end.
Till the world ends in the chaos of Ragnarok, we will fight for our women, for our land, and for our homes. Some Christians speak of peace, of the evil of war, and who does not want peace? But then some crazed warrior comes screaming his god's filthy name into your face and his only ambitions are to kill you, to rape your wife, to enslave your daughters, and take your home, and so you must fight.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“We were three ships in a summer's dawn, and we were going to battle.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“We were the wolf pack, we were the killers of Britain, we had fought from the south coast of Wessex to the northern wilds, from the ocean to the sea, and we had never been beaten, and these men knew it.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“You will not say how you are haunted by the faces of the men you killed, how in their last gasp of life they sought your pity and you had none. You will not speak of the boys who died screaming for their mothers while you twisted a blade in their guts and snarled your scorn into their ears. You will not confess that you wake in the night, covered in sweat, heart hammering, shrinking from the memories. You will not talk of that, because that is the horror, and the horror is held in the heart’s hoard, a secret, and to admit it is to admit fear, and we are warriors.
We do not fear. We strut. We go to battle like heroes. We stink of shit.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“I remember laughing at that moment, and I remember my son frowning at me in puzzlement. What I remember best of all, though, was the sudden certainty that the gods were with me, that they would fight for me, that my sword would be their sword. ‘We’re going to win,’ I told my son. I felt as if Odin or Thor had touched me. I had never felt more alive and never felt more certain. I knew there would be no more mistakes and that this was no dream.
I had come to Bebbanburg and Bebbanburg would be mine.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“The shield wall reeks of shit, and all a man wants is to be home, to be anywhere but on this field that prepares for battle, but none of us will turn and run or else we will be despised for ever. We pretend we want to be there, and when the wall at last advances, step by step, and the heart is thumping fast as a bird’s wing beating, the world seems unreal.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“Anything that comes from the north is bad news.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“I forget your name," I said.
"Most people spew shit from their arse," he retorted, "you manage it with your mouth."
"Your mother gave birth through her arse," I said, "and you still reek of her shit.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“long before the first light leaked in the east.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“I bent and kissed her hand, then held onto it. "The best fate," I said, "is for you to get well. Become healthy! You're the best ruler Mercia has ever had, so be well and go on ruling."

"I shall do my best."

Then I shocked the two nuns by bending further and kissing Ethelflaed on the mouth. She did not resist. We had been lovers, I still loved her, and I love her to this day. I sensed a slight sob as we kissed.

"I shall come again," I promised her, "after I've taken Bebbanburg."

"Not Frisia?" she asked mischievously. So the rumor was spreading.

I lowered my voice. "I'm going to Bebbanburg next. Tell no one."

"Dear Lord Uhtred," she said softly, "everyone knows you're going to Bebbanburg. Perhaps I'll visit you there?"

"You must, my lady, you must. You will be treated like the queen you are." I kissed her hand again. "Till we meet in the north, my lady," I said, then reluctantly released her fingers and followed Rorik out of the tent.

I never saw her again.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“Besides, as I have never tired of telling my Christian followers, we pagans rarely persecute Christians. We believe there are many gods, so we accept another man’s religion as his own affair, while Christians, who perversely insist that there is only one god, think it their duty to kill, maim, enslave, or revile anyone who disagrees. They tell me this is for our own good. Eadith”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“the lion will lie down with the lamb, swords will be forged into plowshares, there’ll be no more stinging nettles, and a man can take as many wives as he wants.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer

“Men weeping because they had met the horror, and it was us. We were the wolf pack of Bebbanburg and we had taken back what Ida the Flamebearer had first won.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Flame Bearer