Bernard Cornwell Quotes
The Other Held A Hand Toward The Wretched Boy In The Dung-heap. "Father Uhtred," He Said. "His Name Is Not Uhtred," I Snarled, "and If He Dares Call Himself Uhtred," I Looked At Him As I Spoke, "then I Will Find Him And I Will Cut His Belly To The Bone And I Will Feed His Lily-livered Guts To My Swine. He Is Not My Son. He's Not Worthy To Be My Son." The Man Who Was Not Worthy To Be My Son Clambered Wetly From The Dung-heap, Dripping Filth. He Looked Up At Me. "Then What Am I Called?" He Asked. "Judas," I Said Mockingly.
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