“Now Kresan’s grandson Jakub will take over,” whispers Freddy. “It’s a tradition that the last stanzas are recited by a new reciter.”
And indeed, to enthusiastic shouts, Kresan’s son relieves the old man. He loudly sets out to recite the rest of the epic:
Ona my heelah
Yola nigh meelah.
Minah sant krah,
Tunah ban krah! Wollah na bluh Boolah na fluh.
Meen ken forau
Forbrow bowdurf
Eh, Voylah!!
For lengsine.
Hipp Bowdurf!
Hipp Bowdurf!
Jakub’s performance sparks off spontaneous shouts of approval and admiration. They all congratulate his proud father. The groom toasts the grandfather and the grandson Kresan. He is evidently moved.
“But he said far less,” Urban criticises young Kresan’s performance.
“Why this constant fucking bitching?” Telgarth rounds on him. “It’s as if you were mocking the very essence of the Slovak nation. You know who you remind me of? The bloody Czechs. Yes, you have a Czech character!”
* * *
Indeed, Urban shows precious little appreciation of Telgarth’s newly discovered devotion to the ideals of the Slovak resistance and to the Junjan Slovaks’ national cause in general. But the thought that Urban could soon leave him and return to Europe is disagreeable to Telgarth.
Urban becomes Telgarth’s more or less involuntary companion. Any writer or journalist would have been happy to be so close to events talked about by the whole world, but not Urban. He is neither a writer, nor a journalist; the discomfort, the dirt and, in particular, being unable to get a table in a good café and order something nice is gradually getting on his nerves. Moreover, he misses his cousin Tina’s long, slim legs.
A few days after Geľo’s wedding he witnesses an unsuccessful attempt to catch Tökörnn Mäodna in Kresan’s settlement. Although the guerrillas shot all the mercenaries who came for easy pickings, Mäodna was not among them.
Urban then takes part in a legendary attack on the capital Ćmirçăpoļ, that Telgarth renamed New City. The guerrillas enter the city at night by train, and by morning they occupy the whole centre. After two days’ fighting, the guerrillas are surprised to get reinforcement from a Czech Army élite paratrooper regiment and capture the whole city for good.
The mercenaries are weakened: those who did not perish in combat, or weren’t hanged by one foot from street lamps, have run off into the tundra. Now that the Slovaks have imprisoned the Junjan Khan and his entire government, the mercenaries have lost any reason for loyalty. They were not going to get paid, anyway. And so they try to leave the archipelago in small scattered groups. Small mobile Slovak guerrilla units pursue and destroy them.
Freddy soon orders the prisoners to be released from the Kandźágtt camp. Freddy firmly rejects Geľo’s proposal to destroy and burn down the camp, so that not a trace remains. After all, who can tell if a correctional institution, from which escape is impossible, might not be needed?
“I’ve got no one here, Urban,” complains Telgarth, when a few days after victory they sit alone in some gruesome snack bar in the city’s port and pour themselves drinks from a well-stocked bar.
Telgarth’s personal guard is patrolling outside.
“But you’re surrounded by guerrillas waiting for any order you might give them, Telgarth,” Urban objects.
“Well yes, but you’re the only thing linking me to a civilisation I’ve abandoned over in Europe,” says Telgarth.
“What do you need a link for, when, in your own words, you’ve parted company with that world?” Urban enquires. “And especially if I have that bloody Czech character, as you’ve told me?”
“Look,” says Telgarth, “don’t take everything I say so literally. Here we are, just after a victorious war, facing terrible chaos. Keeping this up is a risky, deadly business. I have enormous responsibilities. I have a daily press conference and in the evening I give briefings to journalists. I’m writing a Constitution of the Slovak Archipelago Republic. I’m creating a new concept of the state. And I know nothing about all this. You were in politics, even in parliament. Why not be my adviser?”
“No, Freddy,” Urban laughs. “What advice could I give you? You’ve made your bed, so lie in it.”
“You’ve got experience,” says Telgarth. “All you need to do is put the brakes on me occasionally and tell me if such and such can’t be done. I need someone with an overview, someone I can fully trust.”
Telgarth pours himself and Urban a glass and gulps his down.
“Try and understand me,” he says. “Maybe I’m a bit depressed. I’m facing unimaginable duties. I have to make a free and sovereign Junjan Slovak state out of this wild country. And I also have other plans which I have to keep quiet about. And do you think anyone but me could see this through? Geľo? Frolo? Šebo? They’re simple hunters who bow to anyone who gives them a better gun than the old ones they shot walrus with.”
“You mean the Czechs?” Urban asks.
“I mean the Czechs,” Freddy nods. “A Czech won’t stop at screwing people who screw him.”
“Actually, I think that Czech aid was substantial all through the war,” objects Urban, “and still is. For example, everything we eat comes from the Czech Republic.”
“You’ve seen their flyer, haven’t you?” Freddy asks. “That’s the reason they’re doing it all.”
“But nobody’s told them yet that they’re not welcome,” says Urban.
“Their help was welcome,” says Telgarth slyly. “After we’ve finally liquidated the enemy, they can leave with our gratitude and good wishes. So? Will you agree to be my adviser? At least for the first few months?”
“What do I get for it?” Urban asks.
“Good question,” says Telgarth. “You’ll be paid in gold. And you’ll get shares in our oil industry, too. That’s a fair offer, don’t you think?”
“It is,” says Urban. “I could stay here a few weeks. But let’s have a written contract.”
“Fine,” Telgarth laughs. “If you want a contract, you’ll get one. To your health and our collaboration!”
* * *
The weeks turn into months. Soon it’s Christmas, and then New Year. The New Year celebration turns into a great celebration of victory for the Junjan Slovaks. Freddy prepares a great celebration in the New City, with Czech representatives present. He gives an impressive speech from the balcony of the former Khan’s Palace. He wrote it alone, the night before, and wept as he wrote:
“Dear Slovak men and women! Brothers and sisters! When I set out on the sorrowful path of war, I promised to take off my uniform only after final victory. Now, as you see, the day has arrived. Slovak men and women! From today we’re no longer a nation in retreat! We’ve rediscovered our pride and self-confidence. It is born of all the streams of blood that we have shed for our God and nation. So we can rejoice today at our success and be proud of what we’ve achieved. For I tell you: today we are not cheering just over a tiny trembling flame that might go out one day. I say, in the name of those who have fallen on the road here, this will never happen. Slovak men and women! Together, we’ve resurrected the flame of the restless conquering spirit that moved your forefathers many years ago to leave their homes and go into the wide world to seek a new future. Even though they ended up somewhere they did not originally choose, that flame has warmed them over many years of slavery and oppression. Today that flame burns bright. Just as bright, untamed and full, as it burned in them many generations ago. Brothers and sisters! In this cruel struggle, we’ve found ourselves as well as our place in the world. The time for weapons and killing has ended at last and now comes a time of love and procreation. A time for peaceful building. Therefore, let us love, procreate, build, live and get to know freedom! But we must never turn our backs on the victory that we’ve achieved by sacrificing our blood. Those of our ranks who have fallen would never forgive us! Thank you for your attention.”