THE LAST KINGDOM SERIES
BOOKS 1 & 2
The Last Kingdom
The Pale Horseman
Bernard Cornwell
Copyright
Published by HarperCollins
Publishers
Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
The Last Kingdom first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Publishers
2004
The Pale Horseman first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Publishers
2005
Copyright © Bernard Cornwell 2004, 2005
Cover copyright:
Cover layout design © HarperCollins
Publishers
Ltd 2015
Photography by Kata Vermes © Carnival Film & Television Limited 2015
Bernard Cornwell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of these works
A catalogue record for these books are available from The British Library
These novels are entirely works of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in them, while at times based on historical figures, are the work of the author’s imagination.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © ISBN: 9780008159641
Version: 2017-05-08
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
THE LAST KINGDOM
THE PALE HORSEMAN
The Last Kingdom Series Book 3
About the Author
Also by Bernard Cornwell
About the Publisher
THE LAST KINGDOM
BERNARD CORNWELL
Copyright
Published by HarperCollins
Publishers
Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Publishers
2004
Copyright © Bernard Cornwell 2004
Cover layout design © HarperCollins
Publishers
Ltd 2015
Photography by Kata Vermes © Carnival Film & Television Limited 2015
Bernard Cornwell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on historical figures, are the work of the author’s imagination.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © July 2009 ISBN: 9780007338818
Version: 2017-05-08
Dedication
THE LAST KINGDOM
is for Judy, with love
Wyrd bið ful ãræd
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Place Names
Prologue:
NORTHUMBRIA, 866–867 AD
Part One:
A PAGAN CHILDHOOD
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part Two:
THE LAST KINGDOM
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Part Three:
THE SHIELD WALL
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Historical Note
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 whatever spelling is cited in the
Oxford Dictionary of English Place Names
for the years nearest or contained within Alfred’s reign, 871–899 AD, 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 have preferred the modern England to Englaland and, instead of Norðhymbralond, have used Northumbria 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:
Æbbanduna
Abingdon, Berkshire
Æsc’s Hill
Ashdown, Berkshire
Baðum (pronounced Bathum)
Bath, Avon
Basengas
Basing, Hampshire
Beamfleot
Benfleet, Essex
Beardastopol
Barnstable, Devon
Bebbanburg
Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland
Berewic
Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland
Berrocscire
Berkshire
Blaland
North Africa
Cantucton
Cannington, Somerset
Cetreht
Catterick, Yorkshire
Cippanhamm
Chippenham, Wiltshire
Cirrenceastre
Cirencester, Gloucestershire
Contwaraburg
Canterbury, Kent
Cornwalum
Cornwall
Cridianton
Crediton, Devon
Cynuit
Cynuit Hillfort, nr. Cannington, Somerset
Dalriada
Western Scotland
Defnascir
Devonshire
Deoraby
Derby, Derbyshire
Dic
Diss, Norfolk
Dunholm
Durham, County Durham
Eoferwic
York (also the Danish Jorvic, pronounced Yorvik)
Exanceaster
Exeter, Devon
Fromtun
Frampton on Severn, Gloucestershire
Gegnesburh
Gainsborough, Lincolnshire
the Gewæsc
The Wash
Gleawecestre
Gloucester, Gloucestershire
Grantaceaster
Cambridge, Cambridgeshire
Gyruum
Jarrow, County Durham
Haithabu
Hedeby, trading town in Southern Denmark
Hamanfunta
Havant, Hampshire
Hamptonscir
Hampshire
Hamtun
Southampton, Hampshire
Heilincigae
Hayling Island, Hampshire
Hreapandune
Repton, Derbyshire
Kenet
River Kennet
Ledecestre
Leicester, Leicestershire
Lindisfarena
Lindisfarne (Holy Island), Northumberland
Lundene
London
Mereton
Marten, Wiltshire
Meslach
Matlock, Derbyshire
Pedredan
River Parrett
Pictland
Eastern Scotland
the Poole
Poole Harbour, Dorset
Readingum
Reading, Berkshire
Sæfern
River Severn
Scireburnan
Sherborne, Dorset
Snotengaham
Nottingham, Nottinghamshire
Solente
Solent
Streonshall
Strensall, Yorkshire
Sumorsæte
Somerset
Suth Seaxa
Sussex (South Saxons)
Synningthwait
Swinithwaite, Yorkshire
Temes
River Thames
Thornsæta
Dorset
Tine
River Tyne
Trente
River Trent
Tuede
River Tweed
Twyfyrde
Tiverton, Devon
Uisc
River Exe
Werham
Wareham, Dorset
Wiht
Isle of Wight
Wiire
River Wear
Wiltun
Wilton, Wiltshire
Wiltunscir
Wiltshire
Winburnan
Wimborne Minster, Dorset
Wintanceaster
Winchester, Hampshire
PROLOGUE
Northumbria, 866–867 AD
My name is Uhtred. I am the son of Uhtred, who was the son of Uhtred and his father was also called Uhtred. My father’s clerk, a priest called Beocca, spelt it Utred. I do not know if that was how my father would have written it, for he could neither read nor write, but I can do both and sometimes I take the old parchments from their wooden chest and I see the name spelled Uhtred or Utred or Ughtred or Ootred. I look at those parchments which are deeds saying that Uhtred, son of Uhtred is the lawful and sole owner of the lands that are carefully marked by stones and by dykes, by oaks and by ash, by marsh and by sea, and I dream of those lands, wave-beaten and wild beneath the wind-driven sky. I dream, and know that one day I will take back the land from those who stole it from me.
I am an Ealdorman, though I call myself Earl Uhtred, which is the same thing, and the fading parchments are proof of what I own. The law says I own that land, and the law, we are told, is what makes us men under God instead of beasts in the ditch. But the law does not help me take back my land. The law wants compromise. The law thinks money will compensate for loss. The law, above all, fears the bloodfeud. But I am Uhtred, son of Uhtred, and this is the tale of a bloodfeud. It is a tale of how I will take from my enemy what the law says is mine. And it is the tale of a woman and of her father, a king.
He was my king and all that I have I owe to him. The food that I eat, the hall where I live and the swords of my men, all came from Alfred, my king, who hated me.
This story begins long before I met Alfred. It begins when I was nine years old and first saw the Danes. It was the year 866 and I was not called Uhtred then, but Osbert, for I was my father’s second son and it was the eldest who took the name Uhtred. My brother was seventeen then, tall and well-built, with our family’s fair hair and my father’s morose face.
The day I first saw the Danes we were riding along the sea shore with hawks on our wrists. There was my father, my father’s brother, my brother, myself and a dozen retainers. It was autumn. The sea-cliffs were thick with the last growth of summer, there were seals on the rocks, and a host of seabirds wheeling and shrieking, too many to let the hawks off their leashes. We rode till we came to the criss-crossing shallows that rippled between our land and Lindisfarena, the Holy Island, and I remember staring across the water at the broken walls of the abbey. The Danes had plundered it, but that had been many years before I was born, and though the monks were living there again the monastery had never regained its former glory.
I also remember that day as beautiful and perhaps it was. Perhaps it rained, but I do not think so. The sun shone, the seas were low, the breakers gentle and the world happy. The hawk’s claws gripped my wrist through the leather sleeve, her hooded head twitching because she could hear the cries of the white birds. We had left the fortress in the forenoon, riding north, and though we carried hawks we did not ride to hunt, but rather so my father could make up his mind.
We ruled this land. My father, Ealdorman Uhtred, was lord of everything south of the Tuede and north of the Tine, but we did have a king in Northumbria and his name, like mine, was Osbert. He lived to the south of us, rarely came north, and did not bother us, but now a man called Ælla wanted the throne and Ælla, who was an Ealdorman from the hills west of Eoferwic, had raised an army to challenge Osbert and had sent gifts to my father to encourage his support. My father, I realise now, held the fate of the rebellion in his grip. I wanted him to support Osbert, for no other reason than the rightful king shared my name and foolishly, at nine years old, I believed any man called Osbert must be noble, good and brave. In truth Osbert was a dribbling fool, but he was the king, and my father was reluctant to abandon him. But Osbert had sent no gifts and had shown no respect, while Ælla had, and so my father worried. At a moment’s notice we could lead a hundred and fifty men to war, all well armed, and given a month we could swell that force to over four hundred foemen, so whichever man we supported would be the king and grateful to us.
Or so we thought.
And then I saw them.
Three ships.
In my memory they slid from a bank of sea mist, and perhaps they did, but memory is a faulty thing and my other images of that day are of a clear, cloudless sky, so perhaps there was no mist, but it seems to me that one moment the sea was empty and the next there were three ships coming from the south.
Beautiful things. They appeared to rest weightless on the ocean, and when their oars dug into the waves they skimmed the water. Their prows and sterns curled high and were tipped with gilded beasts, serpents and dragons, and it seemed to me that on that far off summer’s day the three boats danced on the water, propelled by the rise and fall of the silver wings of their oar banks. The sun flashed off the wet blades, splinters of light, then the oars dipped, were tugged and the beast-headed boats surged and I stared entranced.
‘The devil’s turds,’ my father growled. He was not a very good Christian, but he was frightened enough at that moment to make the sign of the cross.
‘And may the devil swallow them,�