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Authors: Bernard Cornwell

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Death of Kings

BOOK: Death of Kings
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Death of Kings

Bernard Cornwell

 

Dedication

 

Death of Kings
is for
Anne LeClaire,
Novelist and Friend,
who supplied the first line.

PLACE NAMES

 

The spelling of place names in Anglo-Saxon England was an uncertain business, with no consistency and no agreement even about the name itself. Thus London was variously rendered as Lundonia, Lundenberg, Lundenne, Lundene, Lundenwic, Lundenceaster and Lundres. Doubtless some readers will prefer other versions of the names listed below, but I have usually employed whichever spelling is cited in either the
Oxford
or the
Cambridge Dictionary of English Place-Names
for the years nearest to AD 900, but even that solution is not foolproof. Hayling Island, in 956, was written as both Heilincigae and Hæglingaiggæ. Nor have I been consistent myself; I should spell England as Englaland, and have preferred the modern form Northumbria to N
rhymbralond to avoid the suggestion that the boundaries of the ancient kingdom coincide with those of the modern county. So this list, like the spellings themselves, is capricious.

 

Baddan Byrig

Badbury Rings, Dorset

Beamfleot

Benfleet, Essex

Bebbanburg

Bamburgh, Northumberland

Bedanford

Bedford, Bedfordshire

Blaneford

Blandford Forum, Dorset

Buccingahamm

Buckingham, Bucks

Buchestanes

Buxton, Derbyshire

Ceaster

Chester, Cheshire

Cent

County of Kent

Cippanhamm

Chippenham, Wiltshire

Cirrenceastre

Cirencester, Gloucestershire

Contwaraburg

Canterbury, Kent

Cracgelad

Cricklade, Wiltshire

Cumbraland

Cumberland

Cyninges Tun

Kingston upon Thames, Greater London

Cytringan

Kettering, Northants

Dumnoc

Dunwich, Suffolk

Dunholm

Durham, County Durham

Eanulfsbirig

St Neot, Cambridgeshire

Eleg

Ely, Cambridgeshire

Eoferwic

York, Yorkshire (called Jorvik by the Danes)

Exanceaster

Exeter, Devon

Fagranforda

Fairford, Gloucestershire

Fearnhamme

Farnham, Surrey

Fifhidan

Fyfield, Wiltshire

Fughelness

Foulness Island, Essex

Gegnesburh

Gainsborough, Lincolnshire

Gleawecestre

Gloucester, Gloucestershire

Grantaceaster

Cambridge, Cambridgeshire

Hothlege, River

Hadleigh Ray, Essex

Hrofeceastre

Rochester, Kent

Humbre, River

River Humber

Huntandon

Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire

Liccelfeld

Lichfield, Staffordshire

Lindisfarena

Lindisfarne (Holy Island), Northumberland

Lundene

London

Medwæg, River

River Medway, Kent

Natangrafum

Notgrove, Gloucestershire

Oxnaforda

Oxford, Oxfordshire

Ratumacos

Rouen, Normandy, France

Rochecestre

Wroxeter, Shropshire

Sæfern

River Severn

Sarisberie

Salisbury, Wiltshire

Sceaftesburi

Shaftesbury, Dorset

Sceobyrig

Shoebury, Essex

Scrobbesburh

Shrewsbury, Shropshire

Snotengaham

Nottingham, Nottinghamshire

Sumorsæte

Somerset

Temes, River

River Thames

Thornsæta

Dorset

Tofeceaster

Towcester, Northamptonshire

Trente, River

River Trent

Turcandene

Turkdean, Gloucestershire

Tweoxnam

Christchurch, Dorset

Westune

Whitchurch, Shropshire

Wiltunscir

Wiltshire

Wimburnan

Wimborne, Dorset

Wintanceaster

Winchester, Hampshire

Wygraceaster

Worcester, Worcestershire

Contents

 

Cover

 

Title Page

 

Dedication

 

Place Names

 

Map

 

The Royal Family of Wessex

 

 

Part One

The Sorceress

 

One

 

Two

 

Three

 

Four

 

Five

 

Part Two

Death of a King

 

Six

 

Seven

 

Eight

 

Part Three

Angels

 

Nine

 

Ten

 

Part Four

Death in Winter

 

Eleven

 

Twelve

 

Thirteen

 

Historical Note

 

Copyright

 

About the Publisher

 

Map

 

The Royal Family of Wessex

 

PART ONE

 

The Sorceress

 

 

One

 

‘Every day is ordinary,’ Father Willibald said, ‘until it isn’t.’ He smiled happily, as though he had just said something he thought I would find significant, then looked disappointed when I said nothing. ‘Every day,’ he started again.

‘I heard your drivelling,’ I snarled.

‘Until it isn’t,’ he finished weakly. I liked Willibald, even if he was a priest. He had been one of my childhood tutors and now I counted him as a friend. He was gentle, earnest, and if the meek ever do inherit the earth then Willibald will be rich beyond measure.

And every day is ordinary until something changes, and that cold Sunday morning had seemed as ordinary as any until the fools tried to kill me. It was so cold. There had been rain during the week, but on that morning the puddles froze and a hard frost whitened the grass. Father Willibald had arrived soon after sunrise and discovered me in the meadow. ‘We couldn’t find your estate last night,’ he explained his early appearance, shivering, ‘so we stayed at Saint Rumwold’s monastery,’ he gestured vaguely southwards. ‘It was cold there,’ he added.

‘They’re mean bastards, those monks,’ I said. I was supposed to deliver a weekly cartload of firewood to Saint Rumwold’s, but that was a duty I ignored. The monks could cut their own timber. ‘Who was Rumwold?’ I asked Willibald. I knew the answer, but wanted to drag Willibald through the thorns.

BOOK: Death of Kings
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