Monday, 17 November 2025

Jorith

"The Sorrow of Odin the Goth."

In 372, the Wanderer, addressing young Alawin, refers to:

"'...that kindred which sprang from your father's father's mother Jorith...and myself.'" (p. 340)

In 300, when Carl notices a maiden with unbound golden hair and large heaven-blue eyes bearing mead to Winnithar the Wisentslayer, Winnithar's wife, Salvalindis, tells him:

"'You meet our oldest child...our daughter Jorith.'" (p. 350)

We will read about the generations between Jorith and Alawin. "The Sorrow..." is the family saga of the Time Patrol series.

 

6 comments:

S.M. Stirling said...

Of course, if he visits through the generations they're going to take him for a God. Nothing else would make sense to them.

Anonymous said...

Kaor, Mr. Stirling!

Either that or they would think Carl to be a sorcerer.

Ad astra! Sean

S.M. Stirling said...

Sean: no, sorcerers weren't immortal/ageless. Gods were.

Anonymous said...

Kaor, Mr. Stirling!

True, but I would argue that some legends attributed very long lifespans to magicians/wizards. And THE SONG OF ROLAND declared that Charlemagne was 200 years old in that poem.

Ad astra! Sean

S.M. Stirling said...

Add in that his physical appearance -- the combination of grey hair and physical vigor -- matches Wotan precisely.

Anonymous said...

Kaor, Mr. Stirling!

Yes, but ultimately, the ethos, beliefs, motivations, etc., lying behind the SONG OF ROLAND makes that work very different the Edda, NIBELUNGENLIED. I think Caisse 291, at the very end of the SONG demonstrates my point (THE SONG OF ROLAND, trans. Dorothy L. Sayers, Penguin Classics, 1978).

The Emperor now has ended his assize
With justice done, his great wrath satisfied,
And Branimonda brought to the fold of Christ.
The day departs and evening turns to night;
The King's abed in vaulted chamber high;
St. Gabriel comes, God's courier, to his side:
"Up, Charles! assemble thy whole imperial might;
With force and arms unto Elbira ride;
Needs must thou succour King Vivien where he lies
At Imphe, his city, besieged by Paynim tribes;
There for thy help the Christians call and cry."
Small heart had Carlon to journey and to fight;
"God!" says the King, "how weary is my life!"
He weeps, he plucks his flowing beard and white.

For all his majesty, age, and strength, the Charlemagne of the SONG OF ROLAND was not his own master, being a servant of God dispatched to wherever he was most needed. And we see how unending toil was making life a burden to the Emperor. Iow, nothing like Wotan!

Ad astra! Sean