The lords of the North

Review by Booklist Review

In the latest installment of Cornwell's rousing Saxon Chronicles, Uhtred, the Saxon-born, Danish-bred hero of The Last Kingdom (2004) and The Pale Horseman (2005), continues to walk a fine line between his divided loyalties. Traveling home to Bebbanburg fter giving the besieged King Alfred an assist in defeating the mighty Dane army threatening Wessex, the one remaining Saxon-controlled kingdom in Britain, he runs into Guthred, the self-proclaimed king of Northumbria. Intrigued, Uhtred joins forces with the would-be king, schooling him in the arts of martial defense and politics. Meanwhile, wily King Alfred is lying low in Wessex, but one senses that he is still pulling all the puppet strings. Although expeditiously sold into slavery by his friend, Uhtred returns after several years at sea still determined to reclaim his ancestral castle and avenge the savage deaths of his family. Of course, all plotlines lead to combat, and Cornwell does not disappoint as Uhtred and his beloved Danish foster brother Ragnar engage their sworn enemy, Kjartan the Cruel, in one final, horrible battle. Shield walls are built, swords clash, and the stage is set for the next volume. --Margaret Flanagan Copyright 2006 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Set in A.D. 878, Cornwell's splendid third Saxon novel (after The Pale Horseman and The Last Kingdom) chronicles the adventures of 21-year-old Saxon warrior Uhtred of Bebbanburg, who believes "my swords could win me the whole world." Uhtred, who despite his Danish upbringing supported King Alfred of Wessex in the fight against the Danes in The Pale Horseman, helps free Guthred, an enslaved Dane, who proclaims himself king of Northumbria. "Fate is inexorable," Uhtred constantly bemoans as he attempts to destroy such enemies as Kjartan the Cruel, Sven the One-Eyed and ?lfric (Uhtred's thief of an uncle) and woos his beloved Gisela, Guthred's Valkyrie-like sister. Uhtred must overcome many challenges, notably King Guthred's shocking betrayal that leads to Uhtred's spending two years as a shipboard slave. Cornwell, best known for his Sharpe series (Sharpe's Battle, etc.), breathes life into ancient history with disarming ease, peppering it with humor and even innocence. (Jan.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

In this third title in "The Saxon Chronicles" series (after Last Kingdom and Pale Horseman), Cornwell continues the saga of Uhtred, a ninth-century Saxon warrior. At the end of the second book, King Alfred released Uhtred from service and sent him north to claim a meager patch of land. But the hotheaded warrior had made far too many enemies, and his retreat from the battlefield proves short-lived. When Alfred needs Uhtred's services to solidify the Christian Saxons' hold on Britain, Uhtred once again finds himself at the frontlines of battle with the land-hungry Danes. This battle culminates in a midnight raid on an impregnable Danish stronghold, thus establishing Saxon rule in the north, as well as the south, of Britain. Once again, Cornwell proves himself a master of historical fiction, weaving a tale of bloodthirsty warfare, honor, and occasional unexpected moments of laugh-out-loud humor. With the cliffhanger ending, fans can expect yet another title in this wonderful series. Recommended for all public libraries. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 9/15/06.]-Jane Henriksen Baird, Anchorage Municipal Libs., AK (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Adult/High School-This third novel that focuses on Uhtred is filled with plenty of action, betrayal, and bloodshed, along with a healthy dose of religion and superstition, as Saxons, Christians, and Scots battle for the ground that will become Great Britain. Set amid actual historical events and people, the story picks up where The Pale Horseman (HarperCollins, 2006) left off and is told by Uhtred; his tone is straightforward in a manly, congenial way. Going from an honored warrior of King Alfred to a slave and back, he is tested again and again as he fights not only for the king, but also for the woman he wants. The knowledge that his fate is set by the gods is a constant reminder that, although he is a mighty warrior, he is, in the end, only a man subject to their whims. A blood feud has charted his course, and his outlook on life is only to make a good accounting of himself before he takes up his rightful place in the corpse-hall. Although it may be difficult for newcomers to the series to grasp the characters' tangled relationships, historical fiction lovers and those who want a good old-fashioned action tale should enjoy this book.-Charli Osborne, Oxford Public Library, MI (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Cornwell continues The Saxon Novels with further rowdy adventures in the Northern kingdoms (The Pale Horseman, Jan. 2006, etc.). Alfred, the great but cranky Saxon monarch, is largely offstage in this particularly choice segment of what is turning into a satisfyingly long look at England in the ninth century. Returning to Cumberland, where the series started, Cornwell pairs his Saxon-turned-Danish-warrior Uhtred of Bebbanburg with another young hero Guthred, king of--well, king of not very much. Yet. But Guthred, a Dane with a claim to territory around the future city of York, is a charmer, and he is one of the chess pieces in the game Alfred is playing back in Wessex. Although he has the blood and the charisma (and a gorgeous sister for whom Uhtred falls hard), Guthred is not an instinctive warrior, but as he rides around the wild countryside trying to put together a small army, Guthred learns a lot from Uhtred--not just battle skills, but also political skills. Uhtred, who can barely tolerate the cerebral, constipated, stingy King Alfred, to whom his oath has bound him, perceives that Alfred knows kingship better than anyone in England, and he constantly provides Guthred with examples of Alfredian realpolitik. The young king is such a good student that he doesn't hesitate to sell Uhtred into slavery when that action is needed to clinch an important deal. So Uhtred, still in his early 20s, spends a couple of years pulling an oar for a Danish coastal trader, seeing much of the Baltic and even making it across the Atlantic for a bit. Fortunately, he's not been forgotten by King Alfred, and he is eventually freed to resume working with Guthred and plotting to regain the castle his uncle stole from him. Blood, guts, history and horses from the expert. Excellent sport. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Lords of the North Chapter One Thorkild let the boat drift downstream a hundred paces, then rammed her bows into the bank close to a willow. He jumped ashore, tied a sealhide line to tether the boat to the willow's trunk, and then, with a fearful glance at the armed men watching from higher up the bank, scrambled hurriedly back on board. "You," he pointed at me, "find out what's happening." "Trouble's happening," I said. "You need to know more?" "I need to know what's happened to my storehouse," he said, then nodded toward the armed men, "and I don't want to ask them. So you can instead." He chose me because I was a warrior and because, if I died, he would not grieve. Most of his oarsmen were capable of fighting, but he avoided combat whenever he could because bloodshed and trading were bad partners. The armed men were advancing down the bank now. There were six of them, but they approached very hesitantly, for Thorkild had twice their number in his ship's bows and all those seamen were armed with axes and spears. I pulled my mail over my head, unwrapped the glorious wolf-crested helmet I had captured from a Danish boat off the Welsh coast, buckled on Serpent-Breath and Wasp-Sting and, thus dressed for war, jumped clumsily ashore. I slipped on the steep bank, clutched at nettles for support and then, cursing because of the stings, clambered up to the path. I had been here before, for this was the wide riverside pasture where my father had led the attack on Eoferwic. I pulled on the helmet and shouted at Thorkild to throw me my shield. He did and, just as I was about to start walking toward the six men who were now standing and watching me with swords in their hands, Hild jumped after me. "You should have stayed on the boat," I told her. "Not without you," she said. She was carrying our one leather bag in which was little more than a change of clothes, a knife and a whetstone. "Who are they?" she asked, meaning the six men who were still fifty paces away and in no hurry to close the distance. "Let's find out," I said, and drew Serpent-Breath. The shadows were long and the smoke of the city's cooking fires was purple and gold in the twilight. Rooks flew toward their nests and in the distance I could see cows going to their evening milking. I walked toward the six men. I was in mail, I had a shield and two swords, I wore arm rings and a helmet that was worth the value of three fine mail coats and my appearance checked the six men, who huddled together and waited for me. They all had drawn swords, but I saw that two of them had crucifixes about their necks and that made me suppose they were Saxons. "When a man comes home," I called to them in English, "he does not expect to be met by swords." Two of them were older men, perhaps in their thirties, both of them thick-bearded and wearing mail. The other four were in leather coats and were younger, just seventeen or eighteen, and the blades in their hands looked as unfamiliar to them as a plow handle would to me. They must have assumed I was a Dane because I had come from a Danish ship and they must have known that six of them could kill one Dane, but they also knew that one war-Dane, dressed in battle-splendor, was likely to kill at least two of them before he died and so they were relieved when I spoke to them in English. They were also puzzled. "Who are you?" one of the older men called. I did not answer, but just kept walking toward them. If they had decided to attack me then I would have been forced to flee ignominiously or else die, but I walked confidently, my shield held low and with Serpent-Breath's tip brushing the long grass. They took my reluctance to answer for arrogance, when in truth it was confusion. I had thought to call myself by any name other than my own, for I did not want Kjartan or my traitorous uncle to know I had returned to Northumbria, but my name was also one to be reckoned with and I was foolishly tempted to use it to awe them, but inspiration came just in time. "I am Steapa of Defnascir," I announced, and just in case Steapa's name was unknown in Northumbria, I added a boast. "I am the man who put Svein of the White Horse into his long home in the earth." The man who had demanded my name stepped a pace backward. "You are Steapa? The one who serves Alfred?" "I am." "Lord," he said, and lowered his blade. One of the younger men touched his crucifix and dropped to a knee. A third man sheathed his sword and the others, deciding that was prudent, did the same. "Who are you?" I demanded. "We serve King Egbert," one of the older men said. "And the dead?" I asked, gesturing toward the river where another naked corpse circled slow in the current, "who are they?" "Danes, lord." "You're killing Danes?" "It's God's will, lord," he said. I gestured toward Thorkild's ship. "That man is a Dane and he is also a friend. Will you kill him?" "We know Thorkild, lord," the man said, "and if he comes in peace he will live." "And me?" I demanded, "what would you do with me?" "The king would see you, lord. He would honor you for the great slaughter of the Danes." "This slaughter?" I asked scornfully, pointing Serpent-Breath toward a corpse floating downriver. "He would honor the victory over Guthrum, lord. Is it true?" "It is true," I said, "I was there." I turned then, sheathed Serpent-Breath, and beckoned to Thorkild who untied his ship and rowed it upstream. I shouted to him across the water, telling him that Egbert's Saxons had risen against the Danes, but that these men promised they would leave him in peace if he came in friendship. Lords of the North . Copyright © by Bernard Cornwell. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from The Lords of the North by Bernard Cornwell All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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