The Valkyries

After a few more steps, Valhalla extinguished the lantern. There was now sufficient light for them to see.
    “From the moment that you set foot outside,” the Valkyrie said, “promise, in the name of the archangel Michael, that never again—
never again—
will you raise your hand against yourself.”
    “I’m afraid to say that,” he answered. “Because I don’t know how to comply.”
    “You have no choice, if you want to see your angel.”
    “I didn’t realize what I was doing to myself. I might continue with the same kind of self-betrayal.”
    “Now you know,” Valhalla said. “And the truth gives you freedom.”
    Paulo nodded his head.
    “You will still have many problems in your life, some of them normal, some of them difficult. But, from now on, only God’s hand will be responsible for everything—you will interfere no more.”
    “I promise in the name of Saint Michael.”
    The women went out. He waited a moment, and then began to walk. He had been in the darkness long enough.

Chapter 30
     
    T HE RAYS OF LIGHT, REFLECTING FROM the stone walls, showed the way. There was the grated door, a door leading to a prohibited kingdom. A door that frightened him. Because out there was the kingdom of light, and he had been living for years in the darkness. A door that appeared to be closed—but, for anyone who approached it, it was open.
    The door to the light was there in front of him. He wanted to pass through. He could see the golden light of the sun outside, but he decided not to put on his sunglasses. He needed the light. And he knew that the archangel Michael was at his side, sweeping away the darkness with his lance.
    For years he had believed in the implacable hand of God, in his punishment. But it was his own hand, not God’s, that had wrought such destruction. Never, for the rest of his life, would he do that again.
    “Break the pact,” he said to the darkness of the mine and to the desert light. “God has the right to destroy me. I do not.”
    He thought of the books he had written, and was happy. The year would end without any problem—because the pact had been broken. There was no doubt that problems would arise in his work, inlove, and along the path to magic—serious problems or passing problems, as Valhalla had said. But from now on, he would battle side by side with his guardian angel.
    You must have made a tremendous effort,
he said to his angel.
And, in the end, I spoiled everything, and you couldn’t understand it.
    His angel was listening. The angel knew about the pact, too, and was happy at not having to devote efforts to keeping Paulo from destroying himself.
    Paulo found the door and passed through it. The sun blinded him for a moment, but he kept his eyes open—he needed the light. He saw the figures of Valhalla and Chris approaching. “Put your hand on his shoulder,” Valhalla said to Chris. “Be a witness.”
    Chris obeyed.
    Valhalla took a few drops of water from her canteen and made a cross on his forehead—as if baptizing him. Then she knelt, and told them to kneel as well.
    “In the name of the archangel Michael, the pact was known in heaven. In the name of the archangel Michael, the pact was broken.”
    She placed the medallion on his forehead, and asked that he repeat her words:
    Sainted angel of the Lord,
My zealous guardian…
     
    The prayer from childhood echoed from the walls of the mountain, and spread throughout that part of the desert.
    If I trust in you,
The divine piety
Will rule me always, and guard,
Govern, and enlighten.
Amen.
     
    “Amen,” said Chris.
    “Amen,” he repeated.

Chapter 31
     
    P EOPLE WERE APPROACHING THEM CURIOUSLY. “They’re lesbians,” said one.
    “They’re
crazy,”
said another.
    The Valkyries paid no attention, but continued with what they were doing. They had tied one kerchief to another, forming a kind of rope. They sat on the ground in a circle—their arms resting on their knees, holding the joined kerchiefs.
    Valhalla was in the middle, on foot. People continued to arrive. When a small multitude had formed, the Valkyries began to chant a psalm.
    By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down, yea, and wept.
We hung our harps upon the willows
In the midst of it.
     
    The people watched, understanding none of it. It was not the first time these women had appeared in the city. They had been there before, speaking of strange things—although certain words were similar to those uttered by television