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The Jutes owe much to Eormanræd, that resourceful general of Cantwarebarg, for without his shrewd brilliance the Seaxna and the Norse and the Kernewek - to pick but three of the enemies of the Cantisc and the Wihtas - would have taken the realms of the beetle and the spider before this day. For do not all kindreds wish they could place their demands upon their own dead, make them fight once more for their lords, force them to slay their enemies until they remember nought else? The irony is that Eormanræd, this skilled warrior with gārseax or langseax, this grim warlord of many battles, stands against those that seek his ordained future: for his life of war is a prelude to the unlife ahead of him, and while death may claim him, his soul belongs to his king.
