"Thou art here, mother: the hour is come; it is the first day of the vine-month, as your sires called it."
"Yes, the hour is come, the stars do not lie, nor did the mighty dead deceive me."
"The dead; call them not, whilst I am here."
"Dost thou fear them? We must all share their state some day."
"I would sooner, far sooner, not anticipate the time."
"Yet thou hast sent many, and must send many more, to join them."
"It is the fortune of war; I have had Masses said for their souls. It might have chanced to me."
"Ha! ha! so thou wouldst not slay soul and body both?"
"God forbid."
"Well, once I believed in Priest and Mass—I, whom they call the witch of 'Cwichelm's Hlawe': now I prefer the gods of war, of storm, and of death; Woden, Thor, and Teu; nay, even Hela of horrid aspect."