by Paulo Coelho
Then Valhalla began to stride in circles around the couple, chanting.
“THIS IS THE PREFACE, THE SALUTATION.
“Praised be Our Lord Jesus Christ, forever may he be praised.
“Guilty warriors are speaking to You.
“Those who have always used the best weapons they have—against themselves.
“Those who deem themselves unworthy of blessings. Those who believe that happiness is not for them. Those who suffer more greatly than others do.
“Those who arrived at the gates of freedom, gazed at paradise, and said to themselves: ‘We should not enter. We are not deserving.’ They are speaking to You.
“Those who one day experienced the judgment of others, and concluded that most of them were right. They are speaking to You.
“Those who judge and condemn themselves. They are speaking to You.”
ONE OF THE VALKYRIES HANDED THE BELT TO VALHALLA, and she raised it toward heaven.
“This is the first element: Air.
“Here is the belt. If we are that way, punish us.
“Punish us because we are different. Because we have dared to dream, and to believe in those things no one else any longer believes in.
“Punish us because we challenged what exists, what everyone else accepts, what most others want to remain unchanged.
“Punish us because we speak of faith, and we feel hopeless. We speak of love, but we receive neither the affection nor the comfort we feel we deserve. We speak of freedom, and we are prisoners to our own guilt.
“Lord, even were I to raise this belt high, high enough to touch the stars, I would not touch your hand.
“Because your hand covers our heads. And it caresses us, and you say to us: ‘Suffer no more. I have already suffered enough.’
“You say to us: ‘Like you, I dreamed, and I believed in a new world. I spoke of love, and at the same time, asked our Father to end my ordeal. I challenged what was. What the majority cared not to change. I thought I was wrong when I performed my first miracle: changing water to wine, simply to enliven a party. I felt the hard stare of others, and I shouted, “Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?’”
“‘They have already used the belt on me. You need suffer no more.’”
VALHALLA THREW THE BELT TO THE GROUND, AND scattered sand to the wind.
“This is the second element: Earth.
“We are a part of this world, Lord. And this world is filled with our fears.
“We will write our sins in the sand, and it will be the desert wind’s task to scatter them.
“Keep our hands strong, keep us from ceasing to struggle, even though we judge ourselves unworthy of going into battle.
“Make use of our lives, nourish our dreams. If we are made of the Earth, the Earth is also made of us. Everything is only one thing.
“Teach us and use us. We are forever yours.
“The Law was reduced to one commandment: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
“If we love, the world changes. The light of love scatters the darkness of guilt.
“Keep us strong in love. Make us accept for ourselves the love of God.
“Show us our love for ourselves.
“Require us to seek out the love of others. Even with fear of rejection, of severe glances, of the hardness of heart of some—do not permit us ever to give up our quest for love.”
ONE OF THE VALKYRIES HELD OUT A TORCH TO VALHALLA. She lit it, and held up the blazing torch to heaven
“This is the third element: Fire.
“You say, Lord: ‘I came to set fire to the Earth. And I am watchful that the fire grow.’
“May the fire of love grow in our hearts.
“May the fire of transformation glow in our movements.
“May the fire of purification burn away our sins.
“May the fire of justice guide our steps.
“May the fire of wisdom illuminate our path.
“May the fire that spreads over the Earth never be extinguished. It has returned, and we carry it within us.
“Prior generations passed on their sins to succeeding ones. Thus has it been, down to our fathers.
“Now, though, we will pass forward the torch of your fire.
“We are warriors of the light, this light that we carry with pride.
“The fire that, when kindled for the first time, showed us our faults and our sins. We were surprised and frightened, and we felt ourselves to be incapable.
“But it was the fire of love. And it consumed what was bad in us when we accepted it.
“It showed us that we are neither better nor worse than those who frowned at us.
“And for this we accept forgiveness. There is no more guilt, and we can return to paradise. And we will bring with us the fire that will burn on earth.”
VALHALLA INSERTED THE TORCH INTO A CREVICE IN THE rocks. Then she opened her canteen and spilled a few drops of water on Paulo’s and Rotha’s heads.
“This is the fourth element: Water.
“You said: ‘Whoever drinks of this water will never thirst.’
“Well then, we are drinking this water. We wash away our sins, for love of the transformation that is going to shake the Earth.
“We will hear what the angels say, we will be messengers of their words.
“We will do battle with the best weapons and the speediest of horses.
“The gates are open. We are worthy to enter.”
“LORD JESUS CHRIST, WHO SAID TO HIS APOSTLES, ‘MY peace I leave you, my peace I give you,’ do not look at our sins, but at the faith that animates your assembly.”
Chris knew that passage. It was similar to one used in the Catholic service.
“Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have pity on us,” Valhalla concluded, untying the kerchiefs that joined Paulo and Rotha.
“You are free.”
Then Valhalla approached Paulo.
The sting, thought Chris. Now comes the serpent’s sting. It’s the payment. She’s in love. If the Valkyrie tells him what the price is, he will pay with pleasure. And I won’t be able to say a thing—because I’m just an ordinary woman, and I know nothing about the laws in the world of angels. None of them knows that I have already died many times here in the desert, and been reborn so many times, as well. They don’t know that I have been speaking to my angel, and that my soul has grown. They’re used to me, and they know how I think. I love him. She is only enamored.
“Now, it’s you and me, Valkyrie! The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals!”
Chris’s scream echoed out over the sinister desert, bathed in the light of the moon.
Valhalla was expecting the scream. She had already dealt with guilt, and knew that what she wanted was no crime. Only a caprice. She was entitled to cultivate her caprices—her angel had taught her that such things took no one away from God, or from the sacred task each person had to perform in their life.
She remembered the first time she had seen Chris, at the luncheonette. A shiver had coursed through her body, and strange intuitions—intuitions she was unable to understand—had taken hold of her. The same thing must have happened to her, she thought.
Paulo? She had completed her mission with him. And, although he didn’t know it, the price she had charged was high—as they had traveled through the desert, she had learned many rituals that J. used only with his disciples. He had told her everything.
She also desired him as a man. Not for what he was, but for what he knew. A caprice, and her angel forgave capriciousness.
She looked again at Chris, and thought, This is my tenth round. I too need to change. This woman is an instrument of the angels.
Never taking her eyes from Chris, the Valkyrie said, “The Ritual That Demolishes Rituals. May God tell us what our characters should be!”
She had accepted the challenge. Her moment for growth had arrived.
The two women began to walk around the circumference of an imaginary circle, like c
owboys of the old West before a gunfight. Not a sound could be heard—it was as if time had stopped.
The other Valkyries understood what was happening because they were all women, accustomed to fighting for love. And they would do so through to the ultimate consequences, using every trick and artifice. They would do so for love, the justification for their lives and their dreams.
Chris’s character began to emerge. She donned the leather outfit, and tied the kerchief around her head. Between her breasts shone the medallion of the archangel Michael. She had dressed herself as a strong character, as the woman she admired and would like to be: She was Valhalla.
Chris gestured with her head, and the two stood still. Valhalla felt as though she were standing before a mirror.
Looking at Chris, she could see herself. She knew the arts of war by heart, but had forgotten the lessons of love. She knew the five rules of victory, and had slept with every man she desired, but she had forgotten the art of love.
She regarded herself as reflected by this other person; she had enough power to defeat her. But her own character was emerging, taking form, and this character, although it was also possessed of sufficient power, was not used to this type of battle.
She had transformed herself into a woman in love, who marched with her man, carrying his sword when necessary, and protecting him from all danger. She was a strong woman, although she appeared to be a weak one. She was a person who walked the path of love, regarding it as the only possible road to wisdom. A path where mysteries were revealed through surrender and forgiveness. She was seeing it with such clarity!
Valhalla had assumed the character of Chris.
And Chris saw herself, reflected in the other.
Chris began to walk slowly toward the precipice. Valhalla did the same, and both approached the abyss. A fall from there would be fatal. But they were women who would recognize no limits. Chris stopped at the very edge, allowing time for Valhalla to do so, as well.
The floor of the desert was thirty feet below, and the moon was thousands of miles above. Between the moon and the desert floor, two women confronted each other.
“He is my man. Don’t covet him merely out of capriciousness. You don’t love him,” Chris said.
Valhalla didn’t respond.
“I’m going to take one more step,” Chris continued. “I’ll survive. I’m a courageous woman.”
“I’ll do it with you,” answered Valhalla.
“Don’t. You know about love now. It’s a huge world, and you will have to spend the rest of your life trying to understand it.”
“I will step back if you will. You know about your strength now. Your horizon now extends to mountains, valleys, and deserts. Your soul has grown large, and will continue to grow. You’ve discovered your courage, and that’s enough.”
“Enough, if what I taught you is sufficient to pay the price you were going to charge me.”
A long silence. Then the Valkyrie walked over to Chris.
And kissed her.
“I accept that as the price,” she said. “Thank you for what you have taught me.”
Chris removed the watch from her wrist. It was all she had to offer.
“Thank you for what you taught me, too,” she said. “Now I know about my strength. I would never have learned about it, though, unless I had come to know a strange, beautiful, powerful woman.”
With great tenderness, she placed the watch on Valhalla’s wrist.
THE SUN SHONE DOWN ON DEATH VALLEY. THE Valkyries tied their kerchiefs around their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed.
Valhalla approached the couple. “You cannot go with us. You have to talk to your angel.”
“There’s one thing left,” Paulo said. “The bet.”
“Bets and pacts are made with the angels. Or with the devils.”
“I still don’t know how to see my angel,” he answered.
“You have already broken a pact. You have already accepted forgiveness. The bet you must make with your angel.”
The other women’s motorcycles roared. She placed the kerchief across her face, mounted her bike, and turned to Chris.
“I will always be a part of you,” Chris said. “And you will always be a part of me.”
Valhalla removed a glove and threw it to Chris. Then she revved her engine and the cycles sped away, leaving behind a gigantic cloud of dust.
A MAN AND A WOMAN WERE TRAVELING ACROSS THE desert. On some days, they stopped at cities with thousands of inhabitants, and on others, in towns with just one motel, a restaurant, and a gas station. They kept to themselves—and each afternoon they walked out through the rocks and the sand, feeling as if they had returned to the place where the first star was about to be born. And there, they talked with their angels.
They heard voices, gave advice to one another, and remembered things that seemed to have been completely forgotten sometime in the past.
She had completed her communication with the protection and wisdom of her angel, and was now gazing at the desert sunset.
He sat there, waiting. He wanted his angel to descend and appear in blazing glory. He had done everything right, and now he had simply to wait.
He waited one, two, three hours. He rose only when night had completely fallen; he found his wife, and they returned to the city.
They had dinner, and returned to the hotel. She went to bed and pretended to sleep, while he stared into space.
She got out of bed in the middle of the night, and went to where he sat, asking him to come to bed. She said that she was afraid of sleeping alone because of a bad dream. He lay down beside her, quietly.
“You are already communicating with your angel,” he had grown used to saying at such times. “I’ve heard you speaking when you are channeling. You say things you would never say in ordinary life. Wise things. Your angel is here.”
He caressed her, but continued to lie there in silence. She asked herself if his sadness was really because of the angel, or perhaps had to do with some lost love.
This question remained locked inside.
Paulo was thinking about the woman who had left, but that wasn’t what made him disconsolate. Time was passing, and soon he would have to return to his own country. He would meet again with the man who had taught him that angels exist.
That man, Paulo imagined, will tell me that I did enough. That I broke a pact that needed to be broken, that I accepted forgiveness that I should have accepted long ago. Yes, that man will continue to teach me about the path to wisdom and love, and I will get closer and closer to my angel. I’ll speak with my angel every day, giving thanks for protection and asking for help. And that man will tell me that it is sufficient.
Yes, because J. had taught him from the beginning that there are frontiers. That it was necessary to go as far as possible—but that there were certain times when one had to accept the mystery, and understand that each person had his own gift. Some knew how to cure, others possessed words of wisdom, while others conversed with spirits. It was through the sum of such gifts that God could demonstrate his glory, using humankind as his instrument. The gates to paradise would be open to those who had resolved that they would pass through them. The world was in the hands of those who had the courage to dream—and to realize their dreams.
Each to their own talent. Each to their own gift.
But none of that consoled Paulo. He knew that Gene had seen his angel. That Valhalla had seen her angel. That many others had written books and stories and reports telling of their meetings with their angels.
And he had not been able to see his own.
IN SIX MORE DAYS, THEY WOULD HAVE TO LEAVE THE desert. They stopped in a small city called Ajo, where most of the inhabitants were elderly. It was a place that had known its moments of glory—when the mine there had brought jobs, prosperity, and hope to the inhabitants. But, for some reason—unknown to any of them—the company had sold its houses to the employees and closed the mine.
Paulo and Chris
sat in a restaurant, drinking coffee and waiting for the cool evening to arrive. An old woman asked if she could sit with them.
“All of our children have gone away,” she told them. “No one is left except the old-timers. Some day, the entire city will disappear, and all our work, everything we built, will no longer mean a thing.”
It had been a long time since anyone had even passed through the place. The old woman was happy to have someone to talk to.
“People come here, build, and hope that what they are doing is important,” she continued. “But overnight, they find that they are demanding more of the Earth than it has to give. So, they abandon everything and move on, without thinking about the fact that they have involved others in their dream—others who, weaker than they, have to stay behind. Like with the ghost towns out there in the desert.”
Maybe that’s what’s happening to me, Paulo thought. I brought myself here, and I’ve abandoned myself.
He recalled that once an animal trainer had told him how he was able to keep his elephants under control. The animals, as infants, were bound by chains to a log. They would try to escape, but could not. They tried throughout their entire infancy, but the log was stronger than they were.
So they became accustomed to captivity. And when they were huge and strong, all the trainer had to do was place the chain around one of their legs and anchor it anywhere—even to a twig—and they would not attempt to escape. They were prisoners of their past.
The long hours of daylight seemed to have no end. The sky caught fire, the Earth baked, and they had to wait, wait, wait—until the color of the desert changed again to softer tones of pink. That was when he could leave the city, try his channeling, and once again await the appearance of his angel.
“Someone once said that the earth produces enough to satisfy needs, but not enough to satisfy greed,” the old woman continued.
“Do you believe in angels?” Paulo asked her.
The woman was astonished at the question. But that was all that Paulo wanted to talk about.