Midnight Sun (14 page)

When I got to the cabin I lay down and fell asleep straight away without touching the bottle of drink. As far as I can remember, I didn't dream. And I woke up with a sense that something had happened. Something good. And it had been a hell of a long time since that last happened to me.

Holy Spirit, to Thee we pray

That we in the one true faith might stay,

And help defend it with all our heart

Until our final breath,

When we from earthly misery depart

For home with Thee upon our death

Kyrie Eleison!

THE HYMN ROLLED
like slow thunder around the walls of the little prayer hall. It sounded as though the whole congregation, all twenty-something of them, were joining in.

I tried to follow the words in the little black book Lea had handed me. Landstad's hymnbook. ‘Authorised by royal resolution,
1869
,' it said on the title page. I'd already leafed through it. Didn't look as though a single syllable had been altered since then.

When the hymn was over, a man walked with heavy steps across the creaking wooden floor to a simple lectern. He turned towards us.

It was Lea's father. Grandpa. Jakob Sara.

‘
I believe in God the Father, the Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth
,' he began. All the others remained silent, and let him read out the whole declaration of faith alone. Afterwards he remained motionless, silently staring down at the lectern. For a long time. Just as I was convinced something was wrong, that he was suffering some kind of mental block, he raised his voice:

‘Dear Christians. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Yes, we wanted to start this meeting in the name of the Holy Trinity. Yes.' Another pause. He was still standing with his head bowed, huddled in a suit that was slightly too big for him, like a nervous beginner, and certainly not the hardened, well-travelled preacher Knut had talked about. ‘For if one is to look at oneself, one's own being, it is not good to step up to this pulpit as a wretched sinner.' Stop. I glanced around. Oddly enough, no one else seemed to feel at all uncomfortable with the man's obvious struggle. I managed to count to ten before he went on: ‘And this valuable thing we are gathered here for, the holy, pure Word of God – one must ask, how can this word be upheld? That is, why it is so difficult to step up to this lectern, because what is one to do?' He finally raised his head. Looked straight at us. There was no trace of uncertainty in his firm, direct gaze. No sign of the humility he claimed to be afflicted by. ‘For we are naught but dust. And to dust we shall return. But we shall have eternal life if we remain true to the faith. This world in which we live is a world in decay, governed by the Ruler of the World, the Devil, Satan, he who seduces the flock.' I couldn't swear to it, but wasn't he looking straight at me? ‘In this world we poor wretches must live. If we can forsake the Devil, and can spend the brief time that remains walking in hope.'

Another hymn. Lea and I were sitting closest to the exit, and I signalled to her that I was going outside for a cigarette.

Outside the meeting house I leaned against the wall and listened to the singing inside.

‘Forgive me asking, but could I have one of your coffin nails?'

The meeting house lay at the end of the road. Mattis must have been waiting round the corner. I offered him the packet.

‘Have they managed to save you?' he asked.

‘Not yet,' I said. ‘Their singing's a bit too out of tune.'

He laughed. ‘Oh, you have to learn how to hear the hymns the right way. Singing carefully in tune, that's the sort of thing worldly people think is important. But for true believers, emotion is everything. Why else do you think we Sámi became Læstadians? Believe me, Ulf, it's only a stone's throw from the drumming of a shaman and witchcraft to the Læstadians' speaking in tongues, healing and emotionalism.' I gave him a light. ‘And this infernal, ponderous hymn-singing . . .' he muttered.

We took a synchronised drag on our cigarettes and listened. When they had finished Lea's father began to speak again.

‘Is the preacher supposed to sound like he's suffering up there?' I asked.

‘What, Jakob Sara? Yes. His job is to make out that he's just a foolish Christian who hasn't actually chosen to stand in the pulpit but has been chosen by the church.' Mattis bowed his head and made his voice as deep as the preacher's: ‘
My desire since I was chosen to lead this congregation has always been for God to bend me to obedience. But one is burdened by one's own corrupt flesh.
' He took a drag on his cigarette. ‘That's how it's been for a hundred years. The ideal is humility and simplicity.'

‘Your cousin told me you were one of them.'

‘But then I saw the light,' Mattis said, and looked at the cigarette with displeasure. ‘Tell me, is there actually any tobacco in this?'

‘You stopped believing when you were studying theology?'

‘Yes, but up here they counted me as lost the moment I set off for Oslo. A true Læstadian doesn't study to become a priest among worldly folk. Here the preacher's only task is to impart the old, true creed, not new-fangled rubbish from Oslo.'

The latest hymn had come to an end inside, and Jakob Sara's voice rang out again:

‘The Lord is long-suffering, but have no doubt, he will come like a thief in the night, and the elements and the earth shall fall apart when that lack of faith is revealed.'

‘Speaking of which,' Mattis said, ‘those of us living under a death sentence don't want him to come any sooner than he has to, do we?'

‘Sorry?'

‘I daresay some people would be very happy if they never saw him in Kåsund again.'

I stopped mid-drag.

‘Okay,' Mattis said. ‘I don't know if that Johnny went further north or headed home, but the fact that he didn't find what he was looking for is no guarantee that he won't come back.'

I coughed out some smoke.

‘He won't come back straight away, of course. No, you're probably safe there, Ulf. But someone might decide to dial a number and say a few words over those.' He pointed at the telephone wires above our heads. ‘They could have been promised money for it.'

I threw my cigarette on the ground. ‘Are you going to tell me why you came here, Mattis?'

‘He said you'd taken money, Ulf. So perhaps it wasn't anything to do with women after all?'

I didn't answer.

‘And Pirjo in the shop said she saw you had a load of it. Money, I mean. So it's got to be worth sacrificing some of that to make sure he doesn't come back, eh, Ulf?'

‘And how much would it cost?'

‘No more than he offered for the opposite result. A bit less, in fact.'

‘Why less?'

‘Because sometimes I still wake up at night with a feeling of nagging doubt. What if He does actually exist and – just like Johnny – could come back to judge the living and dead alike? Wouldn't it be better to have more good than bad deeds, so that you might get a more lenient punishment? Burn for a slightly shorter eternity at a slightly lower heat?'

‘You want to blackmail me for a smaller amount than you could get for giving me up because you think that's a
good
deed?'

Mattis sucked on his cigarette. ‘I said a
slightly
smaller amount. I don't want to be canonised. Five thousand.'

‘You're a bandit, Mattis.'

‘Come and see me in the morning. I'll let you have another bottle into the bargain. Drink and silence, Ulf. Proper drink, and proper silence. Things like that cost money.'

He looked like a fucking goose as he waddled off down the road.

I went back in and sat down. Lea gave me a curious look.

‘We have a visitor at our meeting today,' Jakob Sara said, and I heard clothes rustle as the others turned round. They smiled and nodded at me. Pure warmth and friendliness. ‘We ask the Lord to protect him, so that he has a safe journey and soon gets back safely to where he belongs.'

He bowed his head, and the congregation did the same. His prayer was muttered and indistinct, and consisted of old-fashioned words and phrases that might have meant something to the initiated. One particular word resonated with me.
Soon
.

The meeting closed with a hymn. Lea helped me to find it. I joined in. I didn't know the tune, but it was so slow that you just had to be a little late and follow the notes up and down. It was good to sing, to feel my vocal cords vibrate. Lea might have mistaken that as enthusiasm for the words, because she was smiling.

On the way out someone standing outside took me gently by the arm and directed me back into the chapel. It was Jakob Sara. He led me over to the window. I watched Lea disappear through the door. Her father waited until the last person had left before speaking.

‘Did you find it beautiful?'

‘In a way,' I said.

‘In a way,' he repeated with a nod. He looked at me. ‘Are you thinking of taking her away from here with you?' The slow, gentle humility in his voice was gone, and the look that shot out from beneath those bushy eyebrows nailed me to the wall.

I didn't know what to say. Was he being facetious when he asked if I was thinking of running off with his daughter? Or was he not being facetious when he asked if I was thinking of running off with his daughter?

‘Yes,' I said.

‘Yes?' One eyebrow rose.

‘Yes. I'm taking her to Alta. Then back again. That's to say, she's the one taking me. She'd rather drive the car herself.'

I swallowed. Hoped I hadn't caused any trouble. That it was a sin for women to drive cars with men in. Something like that.

‘I know you're going to Alta,' he said. ‘Lea sent Knut to see us. The Devil has a firm foothold in Alta. I know, I've been there.'

‘We'd better take some holy water and garlic.' I let out a quick laugh, and immediately regretted it. His face didn't change at all, except for a spark in his eyes that vanished as quickly as it appeared, as if a sledgehammer had hit a rock somewhere in there.

‘Sorry,' I said. ‘I'm just a man passing through, you'll be rid of me
soon
, so everything can go back to the way it usually is again. The way you evidently like it.'

‘Are you so sure of that?'

I didn't know if he was asking if I was sure everything would return to normal, or that that was how they liked it. All I knew was that I had no great desire to continue the conversation.

‘I love this country,' he said, turning towards the window. ‘Not because it's generous or easy. As you can see, it's sparse and hard. I don't love it because it's beautiful, or admirable – it's a country like every other country. And I don't love it because it loves me. I'm a Sámi, and our rulers have treated us like disobedient children, declaring us incompetent and stripping many of us of our self-respect. I love it because it's my country. So I do what I have to to defend it. The way a father defends even his ugliest, stupidest child. Do you understand?'

I nodded to let him know that I did.

‘I was twenty-two years old when I joined the resistance to fight against the Germans. They'd come here and raped my country, so what else could I do? In the middle of winter I lay out on the plateau and almost starved and froze to death. I never got to shoot any Germans – I had to stifle my bloodlust because there would have been reprisals against the local population if we'd taken action. But I felt hatred. I felt hatred, I starved, froze, and waited. And when the day finally came and the Germans disappeared, I believed that this country was mine again. But then I realised that the Russians who had arrived in the area weren't necessarily thinking of leaving again. That they could well imagine taking over my country after the Germans. We came down from the plateau to the burned-out ruins, and I found my family in a
lavvo
together with four other families. My sister told me that every night Russian soldiers would come and rape the women. So I loaded my pistol, waited, and when the first one arrived and was standing there in the opening of the
lavvo
where I had hung up a paraffin lamp, I aimed at his heart and shot. He fell like a sack. Then I cut off his head, left his military cap on, and hung the head outside the
lavvo
. None of this meant anything to me – it was like killing a cod, cutting its head off and hanging it on the racks. The next day two Russian officers came and collected the headless body of their soldier. They didn't ask any questions, and they didn't touch the head. After that no one got raped.' He buttoned up his worn suit jacket. He brushed the lapel with one hand. ‘That was what I did, and that's what I'd do again. You protect what's yours.' He looked up at me.

‘It sounds like you could just have told the officers about him,' I said. ‘And achieved the same result.'

‘Possibly. But I preferred to do it myself.'

Jakob Sara put his hand on my shoulder.

‘I can feel it's better,' he said.

‘Sorry?'

‘Your shoulder.'

Then he smiled that wilfully meek smile, raised his bushy eyebrows as if he had just thought of something that needed doing, turned round and left.

Lea was already sitting in the car when I reached the house.

I got in the passenger seat. She was wearing a simple grey coat and a red silk scarf.

‘You've dressed up,' I said.

‘Nonsense,' she said, turning the key in the ignition.

‘You look nice.'

‘I haven't dressed up. They're only clothes. Was he being mean?'

‘Your father? He was just sharing some of his wisdom with me.'

Lea sighed, put the car in gear and released the clutch. We set off.

‘And the talk you had with Mattis outside the prayer hall, was that about wisdom as well?'