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Beginning with The Skystone, the first in his riveting Camulod Chronicles, bestselling author Jack Whyte has embarked on an ambitious and remarkable re-telling of the Arthurian cycle, giving us a fresh and compelling take on a story that has been beloved for centuries.
The Eagle is the dramatic conclusion of Whyte's four-generation epic of the rise and fall of Arthur Pendragon, High King of All Britain. In this final volume, Whyte takes us into the lives and minds of the three very human and astonishingly ordinary people whose interrelationships would give rise to the greatest, most enduring love story in the Western world.
Clothar, the young Frankish knight known as The Lancer, returns to his homeland in Gaul as Arthur's ambassador. From there, while forging overseas alliances on Arthur's behalf, he watches as Arthur and Merlyn struggle to unify the clans and peoples of Britain and re-establish the rule of law. Clothar knows Arthur's darkest secret. When his friend needs him most, he steps forward...but can he intervene in time to oppose the dark forces which threaten Arthur's plans by sowing chaos across Britain?
1
"Chariots."
The word apparently made no impression on the man to whom I had spoken, so I said it again, raising my voice slightly, despite the absolute silence, to make sure that he could hear me. Again, however, he chose to ignore me, his attention focused on the layer of whiteness that ended at the threshold of the cave that sheltered us. It had started snowing early that afternoon, tiny, individual flakes blown on a chill wind, their appearance unsurprising beside the sudden, harsh reality of the drop in temperature and the wind's strengthening bluster. But the snowfall had increased steadily ever since, so that now, a mere two hours later, the entire world had turned white, and the leaden clouds overhead were already leaching the light from the day, creating a premature dusk.
"What about them?" It was a dismissive response, and he kept right on talking, ignoring his own question, as though by merely acknowledging my reference he had dealt with the chariots in full. "This snow does not appear to be passing us by, my friend. It looks as though we might have to bring the horses inside. We could be here for the night." Arthur Pendragon, nominal High King of All Britain, squinted at me in the darkness of the cave with snow-dazzled eyes. "That means we will have smelly lodgings, but well sheltered, and at least their body heat should stave off the worst of the chills, in the absence of firewood." Stooping to avoid banging his high, crested helmet against the low ceiling, he moved inside to where I sat with my back securely in a corner of the wall. He placed his long, sheathed sword carefully against an outcrop in the cave wall where it would not fall and then nudged my outstretched foot with his toe. "Move over, unless you want the entire floor for yourself."
The Eagle is the dramatic conclusion of Whyte's four-generation epic of the rise and fall of Arthur Pendragon, High King of All Britain. In this final volume, Whyte takes us into the lives and minds of the three very human and astonishingly ordinary people whose interrelationships would give rise to the greatest, most enduring love story in the Western world.
Clothar, the young Frankish knight known as The Lancer, returns to his homeland in Gaul as Arthur's ambassador. From there, while forging overseas alliances on Arthur's behalf, he watches as Arthur and Merlyn struggle to unify the clans and peoples of Britain and re-establish the rule of law. Clothar knows Arthur's darkest secret. When his friend needs him most, he steps forward...but can he intervene in time to oppose the dark forces which threaten Arthur's plans by sowing chaos across Britain?
1
"Chariots."
The word apparently made no impression on the man to whom I had spoken, so I said it again, raising my voice slightly, despite the absolute silence, to make sure that he could hear me. Again, however, he chose to ignore me, his attention focused on the layer of whiteness that ended at the threshold of the cave that sheltered us. It had started snowing early that afternoon, tiny, individual flakes blown on a chill wind, their appearance unsurprising beside the sudden, harsh reality of the drop in temperature and the wind's strengthening bluster. But the snowfall had increased steadily ever since, so that now, a mere two hours later, the entire world had turned white, and the leaden clouds overhead were already leaching the light from the day, creating a premature dusk.
"What about them?" It was a dismissive response, and he kept right on talking, ignoring his own question, as though by merely acknowledging my reference he had dealt with the chariots in full. "This snow does not appear to be passing us by, my friend. It looks as though we might have to bring the horses inside. We could be here for the night." Arthur Pendragon, nominal High King of All Britain, squinted at me in the darkness of the cave with snow-dazzled eyes. "That means we will have smelly lodgings, but well sheltered, and at least their body heat should stave off the worst of the chills, in the absence of firewood." Stooping to avoid banging his high, crested helmet against the low ceiling, he moved inside to where I sat with my back securely in a corner of the wall. He placed his long, sheathed sword carefully against an outcrop in the cave wall where it would not fall and then nudged my outstretched foot with his toe. "Move over, unless you want the entire floor for yourself."
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- SeriesCamulod Chronicles #3