Peter Pišťanek - The End of Freddy

“Oh, by God, Urban, you’re a riot,” says Kresan when Urban’s account is over: he laughs as he pours another round.

The women serve them and can’t help giggling now and again, stifling the giggles in their furs.

The alcohol has got into the blood of Cila, a bolder nubile girl, as strong as a mare, with snow-white teeth, a free spirit.

“You’re more fun than those government mercenaries a few weeks ago who tried to fuck all our girls in a row.”

Urban’s chokes: he is still not used to such words not being thought obscene by Junjan Slovaks.

Freddy calmly gnaws at a bone.

“Are you saying,” he asks, striking while the iron is hot, “they were after you, too?”

“Not me,” says Cila. “I hid from them and they didn’t see me. But they nearly fucked Žofa here. And they nearly fucked Mariena, too.”

“And where were your menfolk?” asks Urban, automatically adopting the Junjan Slovaks’ archaic language.

“Out in the tundra, hunting wolves,” says Maria. “By the time Cila had warned them, we’d almost been fucked. They were Russians paid by the Junjans to fight Slovaks.”

“We ran back; we were late, but still in time,” says Jakub. “It was only a small unit.”

“They’re buried out in the tundra,” Kresan adds between two helpings, not taking his eyes off his plate of reindeer meat, “shoved into a leather sack, and then straight into the ground.”

“It must have been hard work, digging a pit in this frozen ground,” Urban notes in admiration.

“Well, it took them two days to dig it,” laughs Kresan.

“And you could hear them whining under the earth two more days,” says Jakub.

“True,” sighs Kresan. “Russian mercenaries are tough.”

“How many times has Geľo told you, ‘No heroism’?” Freddy says angrily. “We need you for other things, uncle Kresan. What if Tökörnn Mäodna found out? He’d come and wipe out the entire settlement.”

“He hasn’t found out a thing,” says Kresan. “He’ll think they’ve vanished without a trace. The tundra is big. Wolves may have attacked them, or perhaps Ökötöm-kökötom , the snow monster.”

“What if they’d radioed that they were at your place?” asks Urban.

“Radios don’t work here in the tundra,” says Telgarth. “Something underground and in the mountains here bends and jams the waves.”

He turns to Kresan and says sternly, “But you took pointless risks.”

“Should we have let them fuck our women and daughters?” says Kresan defensively.

“Better fucked than dead,” says Freddy. “Tökörnn Mäodna wouldn’t play games with you. He’d shoot everyone in the settlement. He’s done it more than once. I know him, I was captured by him, but I got away. But never mind. Let him come now. We’re ready for him!”

There is a moment’s silence. Kresan is quiet. Urban reaches for the roast meat and cuts off a piece.

“Help yourself!” Kresan becomes a host again. “Nobody’s suffered. The mercenaries just vanished in the tundra. Who’ll find out we did it?”

“And we’ve given you their weapons,” says Jakub. “They’re quite new, never used. They just fell in the snow once.”

Jakub gets up, goes to the nearest corner screened by a fur curtain and soon returns with a Kalashnikov in his hands.

“They’re no good to us,” says Kresan. “They jam in this cold. On your way back, just throw them in an ice hole. Nothing good comes from a Russian. We’ve kept some Czech weapons, just in case. Czech weapons are good quality, and here you never know what can happen.”

Kresan wipes his mouth and gets up. He takes Telgarth and Urban outside to a neighbouring yurt. He draws the leather from the entrance and shows them what’s inside. The cold space inside is filled with a stack of wooden crates. Some have their covers open and all kinds of weapons can be seen packed in them.

“The herdsmen brought these yesterday from storage,” says Kresan. “If you like, you can start loading tomorrow morning.”

Urban spots a typical tin of Prague ham in one crate. He picks it up.

“What?” Freddy asks. “You feel like some?”

“How about you?” asks Urban. Just imagining eating or drinking anything makes him feel sick again.

“I don’t fancy those things any more,” says Telgarth. “I prefer the local food. There’s nothing tying me to your country. I’ve no one there.”

“But what about coffee and milk?” says Urban, pointing to a case of condensed milk.

“I don’t know,” Telgarth shrugs his shoulders. “I haven’t tasted it since I’ve been here. I prefer tea. Local tundra herb tea.”

“And wine?” Urban tests him.

“This is my wine,” Telgarth taps his fur coat that hides a flat bottle of moonshine. “That’s enough for me. Junjan Slovaks are modest.”

“And I suppose you’re a Junjan Slovak?” says Urban with a tiny hint of irony.

“I certainly am,” says Freddy.

He turns away from Urban and checks the ammunition in the crates.

Kresan joins Telgarth and Urban.

“Oh, there’s a lot of good food in the tin boxes,” he nods with admiration. “We’ve tasted everything. We liked this one best of all.”

Kresan grabs a half-kilogram tin of pork in its own gravy and shows it to them.

“What sort of meat is it?” he asks. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s pork,” says Urban.

“What?” Kresan hasn’t heard right.

“Pork,” says Freddy. “From a pig.”

“A pig?” Kresan is dumbfounded. “But that’s an insult to us. Do the Czechs have such an animal in their country?”

The reindeer herder shakes his head incredulously.

“Take it, uncle,” says Telgarth. “Take all the tins you like.”

Kresan is abashed.

“How could I?” he objects. “All this is for the guerrillas. I’m not going to deprive those who fight for me? We have our own reindeer meat. But to tell you truth, the tinned meat is different somehow, finer.”

Freddy makes him take two tins of pork. A piece of paper falls out of the case; the draught blows it into a crack in the wall.

Urban bends to pick it up.

“Leave it there,” says Kresan. “We get a lot of these papers. I can give you some. The paper says the Czechs want us to fight for them, for some sort of Czechoslovakia.”

“For what?” Urban is apprehensive.

“For Czechoslovakia,” Kresan repeats: clearly the word is awkward on his lips. He is someone unused to saying it every day.

Urban picks up the flyer.

Telgarth puts a finger to his lips. He looks at Urban meaningfully.

“We are sitting on the biggest oil reserves in the world,” he explains in a whisper. “When drilling starts, the Arabs are finished. And somehow the Czechs have found out. When they began bringing humanitarian aid, they brought geologists by submarine. They hired native guides and surveyed every square metre in the taiga. According to them, we’re the richest country in the world. I talked to them in Űŕģüllpoļ, before they flew back home with the samples. They were quite beside themselves. They never saw anything like it. Oil, gold, uranium, diamonds.”

Urban laughs.

“So that’s why you’re here, Freddy!” he says. “Well, I have to admit I’ve rather underestimated you. This is a different business than making porn films. Freddy Piggybank, oil sheikh!”

Kresan looks at them meekly. The newcomers are laughing, so he is too. He understands nothing of the fast Bratislava prattle.

“Papers like these are packed in every crate, he says. “But here nobody understand these Czech signs and squiggles.”

Urban reads:

Dear Slovak brothers.

It’s only recently that the Slovaks’ and Czechs’ common state was treacherously destroyed after almost 70 years of history. Today the time is coming which our nations have been waiting for so long: a common state of Slovaks and Czechs will be restored under its original name The Czechoslovak Kingdom! This time, however, the state will do without the degenerate population of the Carpathian Slovak republic, who also call themselves Slovaks. We have had enough of their quarrelsome and yet servile nature. This time we shall enter into a state union with you, good and forthright Slovaks of the Junjan archipelago, who follow in the steps of the heroes of the glorious works of Ondrej Sládkovič, Stano Chalupka, and Jan Botto. The former khanate will be renamed after our glorious victory Slovakia. After the liberation of the entire territory of Slovakia from the barbarian yoke and Junjan oppression, the brotherly Czech kingdom will extend all possible economic and cultural help, so that the living standard of our Slovak brothers will rise and will rapidly become full fledged citizens of a newly restored union state of Czechoslovakia.