In times of trouble, people turn to religion; that is universal. Sometimes they find comfort in it. Sometimes not.
Sunday, November 13th, 1938
Mariakirken (Mary’s church), Bergen
As Ivar entered from the sacristy, he stopped in surprise for a moment. Instead of the usual small flock of elderly worshippers, the church was packed. He had been a priest too long to let his surprise interfere with the Mass, but his thoughts were not entirely on his god as he gave the initial “Hør Herrens ord”. The text was Numbers 31, suitable to a nation at war, and familiar enough that he could give some thought to his sudden wealth of worshippers. It wasn’t very difficult; he’d only gotten as far as killing Balaam the son of Beor when it came to him. The Burgundians had entered the Jotunheim and were pushing hard for Bergen. The old gods, the warrior gods of fire and sword, had failed; and the Ynglings, who in ordinary times of war would light a candle to Odin for victory, and pray for the utter crushing of their foes – they were frightened now, and so they turned to the gentle White Christ, seeking mercy. And his text, one of the bloodier events of the Old Testament, was disappointing them; there was a rustle of restlessness in the back benches.
He stopped his reading and regarded his swollen flock, feeling a slow anger begin to swell. All his life they had neglected Jesus, had ignored the promise of eternal life, focusing instead on their worldly dominion and their mastery of the strils. But now, when the Empire trembled – oh yes, now they would turn to the White Christ, and seek forgiveness for their sins. Well, he was not one to turn anyone away from God; but by God, they’d hear what the price was and they’d pay it truly, or he was no true priest.
“You have not come”, he began slowly, feeling his way into a sermon he had not written beforehand, “to hear of the victories granted by Jehovah to His worshippers. You wish to hear of the mercy that the White Christ gives, and be comforted in this time of danger. And it is true that there is great comfort for us all. But you must not think that Christ is a fool, who gives his gifts to all and sundry, taking no account of their worthiness. No. He spared the adulteress when they would have stoned her, yes. But he also said to her, “Go now, and sin no more.” And that is precisely what you must do, if you want forgiveness: You must promise with all your heart that you repent of your evil, and will sin no more. And I think, my children, I think you will find that hard to do; for you are all of the blood of Yngling, and the old wicked law of the pagans is strong in you.”
“My children, you have sinned. You have let pride in your power to dominate grow in you, worshipping your bloodlines and your strength above all else. You have coveted your neighbour’s goods. For indeed, the strils are your neighbours, and as you have done unto the least among them, it is as though you have done it to Christ himself. You have stolen, taking away the goods that the strils have made. You have committed adultery and rape. All these things, my children, you must sincerely repent, and promise to do no more; or when Judgement comes you will be among those who are turned away into the eternal fires. That is the price of the White Christ’s mercy.”
There was a long, long moment of shocked silence. The Ynglings might perhaps have known, on some abstract level, that the Church disapproved of the Empire, and of strildom; that was one reason they had turned increasingly to neopaganism or atheism. But to have it thrown in their faces like this, as a personal challenge, was something else again, and they were unsure how to deal with it. But then a man in the rear benches broke the moment by simply rising and walking out in silence; and where one had gone, others followed. A rush of Ynglings went down the aisles and out the door, as one after one they decided that things were not so hopeless as all that; and when it ended, Ivar’s flock had shrunk to even less than his usual small band of veterans. Only three Ynglings remained to hear him speak; three Ynglings, in all the vast city of Bergen.
He sighed deeply; he had hoped for a few more, but he knew his people well, and had not really expected them. Resignedly, he quoted to himself: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am.” Then he bent himself once more to the work of the day; if three souls were what he could save, then three souls he would offer up to the Lord, and praise therewith. He began his sermon again:
“I bring good news, my brothers!”
