“Don’t be angry with me, Pagan. Don’t let your temper cripple your intelligence. To squander your gifts in such a way... do you think, having found you, I would let you stray down the wrong path again?”
“You’re no saint, because saints are stupid! You’re stupid! You’re so stupid that you can’t think ahead! You think that sacrificing your life for a bunch of scabby, snot-nosed orphans is going to save them from slavery? You’re out of your mind!”
“Just think of the number of prayers flying up to heaven, right at this very instant. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Hundreds of thousands from the Holy Sepulcher alone. And most of them for money, of course. It’s enough to make you despair.”
″‘Born in?’
‘Bethlehem.’
Rockhead looks up. The brain peeps out from behind the brawn. ‘Don’t worry, sir. It didn’t happen in a stable.’ Clunk. Another jest falls flat on the ground.”