" I had unlaced my cheek-pieces, let them see the blood on my face, see the blood on my mail, the blood on my hands. I was a man of gold and of blood. I was a lord of war and I was filled with the rage of battle. The enemy were ten paces away and I walked five of those paces so that I stood alone, facing them. "This," I snarled at them, "is my rock. "

― Bernard Cornwell , The Flame Bearer (The Saxon Stories, #10)