Gunnland
FTR
November 2010
[November 1990]
The Mimirs' church in the village of Gunnrsund was grand, its high stone columns and arches resembling a primeval Gothic forest. The morning sun shone through the stained glass windows and bathed the people in a sea of light, while Father Matteus, the archdeacon or vicar forane, lifted the glittering gold Bible and began to read from Genesis 34: "If ye will be as we be, that every male of you be circumcised, then will we give our daughters unto you, and we will take your daughters to us, and we will dwell with you, and we will become one people..."
"...and the young man deferred not to do the thing, because he had delight in Jacob's daughter: and he was more honourable than all the house of his father..."
In the next room over, Svava Pallsdatter could hear nothing (she had a pair of headphones on), typing an email to Gregor Samsonsson.
"...and unto Hamor and unto Shechem his son hearkened all that went out of the gate of his city; and every male was circumcised, all that went out of the gate of his city..."
On the crowded Yungdrung Gutsak desk where he used to live a quiet life playing chess with Geijer and writing poems and newspaper articles, Samsonsson read Svava Pallsdatter's email seconds after it was sent. Rick always did have a thing for Margo. Never did forgive me, did he? Simultaneously he was on the phone with Haas: "Remember how we organized our Spartacists down in Oberschlesnitz? So that each cell commander only knew his group and his immediate superior, so the police could never crack it?"
"Hey, Karl? Hold on, I have Rick Geijer's wife on the other line. Should be quick."
It was not so quick, because Gregor had to pick the Geijer's daughter, Sarah Rikarthursdatter, up from school. Like every classroom, there was a cross above the blackboard. The teacher, whose name and patronymic he gathered were Kristin Jensdatter, was lecturing on the Gravplass family.
"...and it came to pass on the third day, when they were sore, that two of the sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, Dinah's brethren, took each man his sword, and came upon the city boldly, and slew all the males. And they slew Hamor and Shechem his son with the edge of the sword, and took Dinah out of Shechem's house, and went out..."
"The Gravplass Betrayal! That's high school, Kristin? Christ. I have to go, we're on a house call."
He didn't elaborate and say it was a breakaway Eir militia unit, probably associated with the infamous Lion of the Sindhu, Terje Sigvarthursson Eir, the Lord Eir's son. There was proof that these Eirs had joined Himmelright's nationalist militia, and it was time to send a strong message. The Eirs, concerned with covering up Terje's misdeeds, would not retaliate. Lieutenant Viereskog hung up on his fiance (or ex-fiance, depending on who you asked). He scratched his three-day beard and opened his eyes. There were eight of them in flak jackets and helmets outside an apartment, all breathing heavily.
"Go."
Thud. Thud. Thud. Three knocks with the little battering ram knocked the door off its hinges, and then the eight shotguns poked inside with their searchlights like stiff arthritic octopus tentacles. There was no "Freeze!", no "Everybody down.", just blasts. Most tore through furniture and masonry, some through unarmed men with their hands in the air, a few through half-naked men who had the wherewithal to grab automatic pistols and start firing back. But none of them had a chance.
When it was all over, Robert Petursson was the first to see a clean-shaven man with a wavy blond combover, in what was now called Aren fashion, caked in blood on the floor. It might have been Viereskog's blood, so much drained from his face. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach. Terje Sigvarthursson. Oops.
[November 1990]
The Mimirs' church in the village of Gunnrsund was grand, its high stone columns and arches resembling a primeval Gothic forest. The morning sun shone through the stained glass windows and bathed the people in a sea of light, while Father Matteus, the archdeacon or vicar forane, lifted the glittering gold Bible and began to read from Genesis 34: "If ye will be as we be, that every male of you be circumcised, then will we give our daughters unto you, and we will take your daughters to us, and we will dwell with you, and we will become one people..."
Geijer took care to tread softly on the plush carpet of the Hamilton Palace Westridge. Even after six or eight whiskys over the course of the evening, he could not sleep. A rage burned inside him, whether for the country or the woman that had failed him he did not know. His key unlocked Margarethe's door. Lying on her bed in a bathrobe, her hair up in curlers, watching television. Surprised. "Rick?" She could sense something was amiss, but did not suspect the danger she was in until he was next to her, duct-taping a sock into her mouth, her hand and feet together, then spryly vaulting to turn on the suite kitchenette's dishwaBagha and waBagha-dryer. A man vitalized by his impending crime; a young man again.
"...and the young man deferred not to do the thing, because he had delight in Jacob's daughter: and he was more honourable than all the house of his father..."
In the next room over, Svava Pallsdatter could hear nothing (she had a pair of headphones on), typing an email to Gregor Samsonsson.
To: "Gregor Samsonsson Stoker"
[Add CC] [Add BCC]
Subject: SCO
Greg -- I hope the K-fort election is going well; of course I would be happy to help direct the newest incarnation of Spartacist Command Oelar. Afraid I have only gotten bad news about Himmelright's thugs so far, but we owe them a fight after all. When I come back I will see what I can do about getting some of the younger Spartacists together. Best, Svava. P.S. -- Your friend Rick Geijer has been acting odd.
"...and unto Hamor and unto Shechem his son hearkened all that went out of the gate of his city; and every male was circumcised, all that went out of the gate of his city..."
On the crowded Yungdrung Gutsak desk where he used to live a quiet life playing chess with Geijer and writing poems and newspaper articles, Samsonsson read Svava Pallsdatter's email seconds after it was sent. Rick always did have a thing for Margo. Never did forgive me, did he? Simultaneously he was on the phone with Haas: "Remember how we organized our Spartacists down in Oberschlesnitz? So that each cell commander only knew his group and his immediate superior, so the police could never crack it?"
Four men lay dead in the street with tincloth jackets with the Spartacist insignia: an "S" inside two concentric circles, one broken to make a "C", the other an "O". Spartacist Command Oelar, the famous leftist militia group. But one, the policeman thought, did not look dead. When they hauled him in for 'enhanced interrogation', however, he could only produce the name of one more Spartacist. At this rate, they would never get the Batavians, or the smug literati like Stoker, who ran the show.
"Hey, Karl? Hold on, I have Rick Geijer's wife on the other line. Should be quick."
It was not so quick, because Gregor had to pick the Geijer's daughter, Sarah Rikarthursdatter, up from school. Like every classroom, there was a cross above the blackboard. The teacher, whose name and patronymic he gathered were Kristin Jensdatter, was lecturing on the Gravplass family.
"The Gravplasses were part of the Lutheran minority that used to exist in Yungdrung Gutsak, and we always suspected of Franconian sympathies. Nonetheless, Soren Gravplass is to this day called the most brilliant rigpa of modern Oelarian history. But his great-grandson, Olf Vidkunsson, was the most controversial, and clearly a Franconian puppet..."
"...and it came to pass on the third day, when they were sore, that two of the sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, Dinah's brethren, took each man his sword, and came upon the city boldly, and slew all the males. And they slew Hamor and Shechem his son with the edge of the sword, and took Dinah out of Shechem's house, and went out..."
"The Gravplass Betrayal! That's high school, Kristin? Christ. I have to go, we're on a house call."
He didn't elaborate and say it was a breakaway Eir militia unit, probably associated with the infamous Lion of the Sindhu, Terje Sigvarthursson Eir, the Lord Eir's son. There was proof that these Eirs had joined Himmelright's nationalist militia, and it was time to send a strong message. The Eirs, concerned with covering up Terje's misdeeds, would not retaliate. Lieutenant Viereskog hung up on his fiance (or ex-fiance, depending on who you asked). He scratched his three-day beard and opened his eyes. There were eight of them in flak jackets and helmets outside an apartment, all breathing heavily.
"Go."
Thud. Thud. Thud. Three knocks with the little battering ram knocked the door off its hinges, and then the eight shotguns poked inside with their searchlights like stiff arthritic octopus tentacles. There was no "Freeze!", no "Everybody down.", just blasts. Most tore through furniture and masonry, some through unarmed men with their hands in the air, a few through half-naked men who had the wherewithal to grab automatic pistols and start firing back. But none of them had a chance.
When it was all over, Robert Petursson was the first to see a clean-shaven man with a wavy blond combover, in what was now called Aren fashion, caked in blood on the floor. It might have been Viereskog's blood, so much drained from his face. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach. Terje Sigvarthursson. Oops.