Saxon: The Book of Dreams
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Sigwulf, a minor Saxon prince, is saved from execution after his family is slaughtered by the ruthless King Offa of Mercia. Thanks to his Devil's Mark - his eyes of different colors - Sigwulf is exiled to the Frankish court of King Carolus, the future Charlemagne. There Sigwulf survives on his wits while at the same time trying to come to terms with disturbingly prophetic dreams.
He gains the friendship of Count Hroudland, Carolus's powerful and ambitious nephew - but, mysteriously, several attempts are made on Sigwulf's life. When he obtains a Book of Dreams, a rare text that explains their meaning, he attracts the attention of Carolus himself. But th Book proves to be a slippery guide in a world of double dealing. Sent into Spain to spy on the Saracens, Sigwulf becomes caught between loyalties; either he honors his debt to new Saracen friends, or he serves Count Hroudland in his quest for glory, gold and even the Grail itself.
One after another Sigwulf's predictions come true, but often not as expected, and he finds himself swept forward into a final great battle that reveals who his enemies are...
leather belt. All of us, Vascons and Franks, looked on as Godomar strode out on to the open ground between us. Then, in a deep husky voice from his wounded throat, he began to recite what must have been a battle ode in some ancient tribal dialect. With each line he tossed his axe in the air so that it spun in a circle, and caught it with the opposite hand. Finally, as he declaimed the last words, his voice rose to a shout and he threw the axe, not to the other hand, but high in the air, towards
snorting of the horses, and the thud of hooves. Then, in smaller groups, they rode at straw-filled dummies and either hurled their javelins, or if they were carrying lances thrust and stabbed before withdrawing to reform and attack again with swords and axes. Finally they divided into pairs and, this time with wooden blades, they chopped and hacked at one another’s shields until exhausted. I took no part in the war drill. Instead I observed, with Osric standing at my shoulder. ‘He’s more
from the footpath. They were barking excitedly, doubtless chasing a rabbit or a hare. Gallmau roared at them so fiercely to come to heel that I glanced up to see the reason for his anger. The sight that greeted me made my skin prickle. Our way lay between two rows of huge grey stones. They were set at intervals, some fifteen paces apart, and a little way back from the track. Each stone was its natural shape, a massive boulder longer than it was broad and weighing many tons. It must have taken
friend, Patch,’ he announced in a slightly slurred voice. There was a tipsy nodding of heads around the high table. One or two of the more sober guests caught my eye and smiled at me tentatively. ‘Some of you will have heard how he corrected the royal bard in Aachen when he was telling a story during a banquet in front of the king.’ The count raised his voice so he could be heard the length of the great hall. ‘Tonight I have arranged for one of the greatest bards of the Bretons to entertain us
creature had managed to turn herself around unaided, and was bolting. I reached out, grabbed a stirrup with both hands as she pushed past me and clung on. I was bounced and dragged beside her down the path, and I feared she would run off the track and fall, taking us both down to our deaths. But somehow she managed to carry me, half running, half dragged, for more than a mile before she slowed enough for me to heave myself back into the saddle and gather up the reins. By then we were well away