Blood and Gold Read Online Free PDF

indeed.”
    “Do you despise my god?” asked Thorne politely.
    “I don’t think that I do,” said Marius. “I told you that I lost the gods of Rome, but in truth I never had them. I was too cold of temperament to have gods. And not having had any true gods of my own, I speak of all gods as if they were poetry. The poetry of Thor was a poetry of war, was it not, a poetry of battles without cease, and of noise in Heaven?”
    This delighted Thorne. He couldn’t conceal his pleasure. The Mind Gift never brought this kind of keen communication with another, and the words that Marius spoke were not only impressing him, they were confusing him slightly, which was wonderful.
    “Yes, that was Thor’s poetry,” he said, “but nothing was as clear and certain as the sound of the thunder in the mountains when he wielded his hammer. And alone at night when I went out of my father’s house into the rain and wind, when I climbed the wet mountain fearlessly to hear that thunder, I knew the god was there, and I was far from poetry.” He stopped. He saw his homeland in his mind. He saw his youth. “There were other gods I heard,” he said quietly. He didn’t look at Marius. “It was Odin leading the Wild Hunt through the skies that made the loudest noise; and I saw and heard those spirits pass. I never forgot them.”
    “Can you see them now?” asked Marius. It was not a challenge. He spoke only with curiosity. Indeed it had a bit of respect in it. “I hope you can,” he hastened to add as if there might be some doubt as to the interpretation.
    “I don’t know,” said Thorne. “It was so long ago. I never thought that I might recover those things.”
    But they were keen in his mind now. Though he sat in this warm bath, his blood soothed, all the cruel cold driven from his limbs, he could see the wintry valley. He could hear the storm, and see the phantoms flying high above, all those lost dead following the god Odin through the sky.
    “Come,” Thorne had said to his companions, the young ones, who’d crept out of the hall with him, “let’s go to the grove, let’s stand in the very grove as the thunder rolls on.” They’d been frightened of the holy ground, but they couldn’t show it.
    “You were a Viking child,” said Marius quietly.
    “Oh, so the Britons called us,” said Thorne. “I don’t think we used that name for ourselves. We learnt it from our enemies. I remember their screams when we climbed their walls, when we stole the gold from the altars of the churches.” He paused. He let his eyes rest calmly on Marius for a moment. “What a tolerant one you are. You truly want to listen.”
    Marius nodded. “I listen with my whole soul.” He gave a little sigh and he looked out through the immense glass. “I’m weary of being alone, my friend,” he said. “I cannot bear the company of those whom I know most intimately. And they cannot bear mine on account of things I’ve done.”
    Thorne was surprised by this sudden confession. Thorne thought of the blood drinker Lestat and his songs. He thought of all those gathered at the council when the Evil Queen had come. He knew all had survived. And he knew that this blond one, Marius, had talked with reason more potently than any other.
    “Go on with your story,” Marius said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You meant to make a point.”
    “It was only that I slew many men before I ever became a blood drinker,” said Thorne. “I swung Thor’s hammer as well as my sword and my ax. I fought as a boy at my father’s side. I fought after I buried him. And he died no straw death, I can assure you, but with his sword in his hand as he wanted it.” Thorne paused. “And you, my friend?” he asked. “Were you a soldier?”
    Marius shook his head. “A Senator,” he said, “a maker of laws, something of a philosopher. I went to war, yes, for some time because my family wished it, and I had a high place in one of the legions, but my time wasn’t