Stephen Lawhead
The Realms Thereunder
“But whatso hap at the end of the world,
Where Nothing is struck and sounds,
It is not, by Thor, these monkish men
These humbled Wessex hounds-
“Not this pale line of Christian hinds
This one white string of men,
Shall keep us back from the end of the world,
And the things that happen then.
“It is not Alfred’s dwarfish sword,
Nor Egbert’s pigmy crown,
Shall stay us now that descend in thunder,
Rending the realms and the realms thereunder,
Down through the world and down.”
PROLOGUE
1
The Swindlestock Tavern 20th April, 1524
“And I say that you’re a fool, Addison Fletcher!” the brawny man declared, striking his ale mug against the bare wooden table for emphasis.
“God smite me where I sit if I tell a lie, Coll Dawson!” Addison protested, his eyes flicking heavenward for the briefest of moments.
“Ah, but-did you not say,” declared Coll, cocking an eyebrow and pointing a finger. “Did you not say that you got this account from another-”
“From Rob Fuller,” piped a voice from the end of the table.
“Aye, from Rob Fuller. And who’s to say that a tale told by Rob Fuller is true or false? Swearing oaths upon secondhand tales is not wise.”
“Then tell me, is it wisdom or foolishness to trust honourable men? I’ve known Rob this last twenty year and judge him to be a straight and honest man.”
“Even so,” continued Coll expansively. “An honest man may-”