Chapter 17

           You,myreader,willremember,farbackatthebeginningofthisnarrative,how,whenalittleladontheMinnesotafarm,IlookedatthephotographsoftheHolyLandandrecognizedplacesandpointedoutchangesinplaces.Alsoyouwillremember,asIdescribedthesceneIhadwitnessedofthehealingofthelepers,ItoldthemissionarythatIwasabigmanwithabigsword,astrideahorseandlookingon.

           Thatchildhoodincidentwasmerelyatrailingcloudofglory,asWordsworthputsit.NotinentireforgetfulnesshadI,littleDarrellStanding,comeintotheworld.Butthosememoriesofothertimesandplacesthatglimmereduptothesurfaceofmychildconsciousnesssoonfailedandfaded.Intruth,asisthewaywithallchildren,theshadesoftheprison-houseclosedaboutme,andIrememberedmymightypastnomore.Everymanbornofwomanhasapastmightyasmine.Veryfewmenbornofwomenhavebeenfortunateenoughtosufferyearsofsolitaryandstrait-jacketing.Thatwasmygoodfortune.Iwasenabledtorememberonceagain,andtoremember,amongotherthings,thetimewhenIsatastrideahorseandbeheldthelepershealed.

           MynamewasRagnarLodbrog.Iwasintruthalargeman.IstoodhalfaheadabovetheRomansofmylegion.Butthatwaslater,afterthetimeofmyjourneyfromAlexandriatoJerusalem,thatIcametocommandalegion.Itwasacrowdedlife,that.Booksandbooks,andyearsofwritingcouldnotrecorditall.