“Why is it called Easter?” I demanded. “Because our Lord died and was resurrected in the east, of course,” Ceolnoth answered. “Horse shit,” I said, “it’s called Easter because it’s Eostre’s feast, and you know it.” “It is not . . .” Ceolberht began indignantly. “Eostre!” I overrode him. “Goddess of the spring! Goddess of baby making! You Christians stole both her name and her feast!”
