The Age of Odin - James Lovegrove [138]
Some time later, when the fire had begun to ebb, Bragi announced he was going to recite a memorial ode. Nobody groaned, as was usually the case when a Bragi poem was in the offing. A respectful hush fell.
Eyes red-rimmed, he began. The poem was short, to the point, and rather touching.
As the sun rises, another sun sets.
You shone a light. Now a darkness descends.
Odin, All-Father, in woe and regret
Your soul to High Heaven we humbly commend.
You were the sly one, the wily one, wolf.
You learned and, in learning, learned pain -
A pain that you shared with none but yourself.
Your wisdom you put to good gain.
You were the war god, the furious cry,
The patron of warrior lust,
Looking with favour on those who would die
For causes both noble and just.
Your judgement might waver, your temper might flare,
You were often aloof and apart,
But never in doubt - and beyond all compare -
Was the stoical strength of your heart.
O father, my father, All-Father, you fought
With bravery here, and you won.
And now we whose lives your self-sacrifice bought
Will continue the work you've begun.
This, as your body succumbs to cremation,
We solemnly, dutifully, fiercely maintain -
That Asgard, our home, our snow-fastened nation,
Shall never be conquered while Aesir remain.
"And Vanir!" Freya shouted.
"And us!" added one of the troops, and others agreed. "Yeah! And us!"
All at once a great massed chorus of devotion and loyalty rose up. I would have joined in, except for the fact that Odin wasn't the only one who had died defending Asgard last night and this rankled with me. Baz's body still lay out there with Fenrir, and was he getting the state funeral, the poetic oration, the pomp and circumstance, the standing ovation? Not a bit of it.
Baz wasn't Odin, of course, and his death wasn't nearly such a big deal, certainly not as far as the Aesir were concerned. Odin had been the main man, the commander in chief, the guiding light, top of the pyramid. Baz had been just another footsoldier; a pawn, not a king.
But he would still be missed, and in a way it was even worse that he'd lost his life stopping the mega-tank, because Asgard wasn't his native soil. There'd been far less at stake for him personally, meaning he'd given up more.
Backdoor'd told me how it had happened.
"Stuck his neck out too far," he'd said. "We were placing the charges on the cab of that thing, and I told him to be careful, keep low. I told him. But he just didn't listen. Leaned out. Got just inside the arc of fire from one of the turrets. Got ripped apart."
I looked over at him now. Last night, spattered freshly with Baz's blood, he'd seemed shellshocked by the experience. Said he couldn't remember much after Baz bought it. He'd set the fuses, scrambled off Fenrir, run for the trees, all on autopilot, numb.
He looked okay this morning, however. Everybody around him was chanting and cheering, reaffirming their commitment to the cause. It was a collective declaration of defiance, a way of coming to terms with the momentous blow we'd received, and Backdoor was giving it as much welly as anyone.
And that just did it for me. Something inside went snap.
I didn't believe Backdoor's account of events. I didn't believe a word that came out of that muttonchopped gob of his. Not any more.
It wasn't the time or place to have this thing out, but I couldn't wait a moment longer.
I stormed over to him, butting people aside.
"You!"
He blinked at me. "Gid?"
"You - you self-satisfied little turd. I've had it up to here with you."
Around us the crowd started to go quiet. Fire-bright gazes turned.
"What is this?" Backdoor said. Captain fucking Innocent. "What's the matter?"
"What's the - !?