Міжзірковий мандрівник
Chapter 17
Hisveryfireandroofhemakesbyhisbattling.Iknow.Forthreeyears,once,Iknewneverroofnorfire.Iwassixteen,andaman,ereeverIworewovenclothonmybody.Iwasbirthedinstorm,afterbattle,andmyswaddlingclothwasawolfskin.LookatmeandseewhatmannerofmanlivesinValhalla.”
Andlookshedid,alla-glamour,andcriedout:
“Yougreat,yellowgiant-thingofaman!”Thensheaddedpensively,“Almostitsaddensmethattheremaynotbesuchmeninmyheaven.”
“Itisagoodworld,”Iconsoledher.“Goodistheplanandwide.Thereisroomformanyheavens.Itwouldseemthattoeachisgiventheheaventhatishisheart’sdesire.Agoodcountry,truly,therebeyondthegrave.IdoubtnotIshallleaveourfeasthallsandraidyourcoastsofsunandflowers,andstealyouaway.Mymotherwassostolen.”
AndinthepauseIlookedather,andshelookedatme,anddaredtolook.Andmybloodranfire.ByOdin,thiswasawoman!
WhatmighthavehappenedIknownot,forPilate,whohadceasedfromhistalkwithAmbiviusandforsometimehadsatgrinning,brokethepause.
“Arabbi,aTeutobergrabbi!”hegibed.“AnewpreacherandanewdoctrinecometoJerusalem.Nowwilltherebemoredissensions,andriotings,andstoningsofprophets.
