THE LOST VIKING SAGA

Rushing about, the Nazi soldiers were falling over themselves to find vehicles for the Oberst and his secret cargo. Olaf observed them in silence, looking mildly annoyed at the time it was taking to fulfill his request. The arrival on the French beach had happened a full hour before sunrise, and now, one hour later they were waiting for the scurrying Nazis to find enough vehicles to transport them to Paris. They had walked into the small village outpost, flashing their papers, and had to fight to control their laughter when the fat, little Nazi Captain had almost wet himself with glee when presented with the opportunity to serve the Fatherland in a matter of top secret urgency.

Within twenty minutes they were loaded into three vehicles and on the road heading toward Paris. David drove the lead lorry, while the other two were piloted by Major Penbrooke and Ivar Fargoer, who had proved to be a natural. Grim and Eovind had both trained as backups should something happen to one of the other drivers, their skills not quite as refined as Ivar’s. Olaf sat in the passenger seat with David, the doppelganger safely seated between them. At every checkpoint they crossed along the way, their small convoy was quickly waved through after the papers were reviewed. It seemed that the Nazis perceived their disguised prisoner as very important because once they read through the papers they were extremely anxious to keep the convoy moving down the road with all expediency. Whatever ruse the Englanders had invented for the enigmatic passenger had a profound effect on the honor of the Germans to ensure he reached the Fuhrer as quickly as possible. They remained ahead of schedule throughout the journey across France and arrived on the outskirts of Paris a full two hours earlier than expected. This left them with a seven hour window to fill while they waited for 8 pm to finally arrive.

They found a park along the Seine River just outside the city, unloaded the men, and settled in to await the hour of decision. Olaf and Major Penbrooke decided to use the time to travel the short distance into Paris and reconnoiter the area around the Palais Garnier. They found an outdoor café just down the street that gave them a decent view of the comings and goings that were taking place at the opera house. Their waiter was a self-important little Frenchmen who never seemed certain whether he wanted to gain the favor of the Nazi officers he perceived them to be or treat them with contempt for not being French. He devoted a considerable amount of attention to smoothing down his meager little mustache or making certain his apron strings were evenly tied. Olaf watched him scurry away from their table for the fourth time, having insulted their choice in wine before moving off in a huff to retrieve it.

Commenting to Penbrooke, he said, “You say that Hitler subdued these people in a manner of days and with little or no fight?”

“Yes. Actually, the Nazis rode into Paris virtually uncontested. The French surrendered shortly after that.”

“It is no wonder,” replied Olaf. “If this little man is indicative of the rest of them, they seem to be concerned only with eating, drinking, and grooming themselves.”

Most of the bustle around the opera house up to this point appeared to just be workers and deliveries. This changed, however around 5pm when a Nazi staff car pulled up in front. Behind the car was a line of ten lorries that were filled with troops. An officer left the car and with a string of commands ordered the troop carriers to circle behind the building. Olaf and the Major watched with renewed interest, taking careful note.

“William was not far off on his estimate of soldiers committed to the security of the Fuhrer. I counted ten lorries, each one capable of carrying 12 -15 soldiers. That would mean approximately 150 men inside.”

“Those are overwhelming odds. It is still a manageable number I believe,” answered Olaf.

Ten minutes later, the lorries appeared again, leaving the way they had come, and clearly empty.

“This may be a good time to return and prepare the men for transport.” The time will pass quickly from this point on,” suggested Olaf.

The two men finished the glasses of wine, left some money on the table, and nonchalantly began walking back to their parked vehicle.

The waiting had been agonizing for the men who stayed behind. To be so close and yet have to bide their time was trying on already jittery nerves. The anxiety level rose even more when Olaf and Penbrooke did not return as soon as some thought they should. There always was a sort of nervous tension before battle, but this was something different. Their enemy in this case was like nothing they had ever faced. Ebbn and Kalf had spent most of their afternoon moving among the men and encouraging them to relax. Most of them calmed considerably and took the time to lounge in the later spring sunshine. The edge lessened somewhat as they enjoyed the feel of the sun upon their faces. It was very possibly their last peaceful moment before chaos took over.

Olaf and Penbrooke returned as the sun was descending below the trees. Not long after, the lorries were loaded and the group started their winding course through Paris to arrive at the Palais Garnier. The most strategic place to park the vehicles was a block away from the backstage entrance. Joined by connecting alleyways, the Norseman would have a relatively simple egress from the building with the Fuhrer in tow. The men made their way with mock confidence toward the front entrance of the opera house. The Parisians were so used to seeing Nazis roaming their streets that many of them did not give the group of thirty-two men a second look. So flawlessly authentic were the uniforms that they were not even scrutinized by the small bands of Nazi soldiers that roamed the streets in an effort to keep the peace. A respectable crowd stood milling about on the sidewalk leading to the facade. Olaf and his men walked through them as though they had every right to do so. The Hitler doppelganger had his face wrapped in bandages and was dressed in the loose fitting uniform of a Leutnant. Underneath, he was fully garbed in what they hoped would be an exact representation of Hitler’s own clothing. They would know for certain once Olaf was seated in the neighboring box.

The initial plan was to keep the double hidden away in the public restroom and only bring him out when they were prepared to make the switch. Somehow the Secret Intelligence Service had procured tickets and Olaf presented the packet for his retinue to the usher just inside the entry to the Grand Foyer. The challenge of appropriating the boxes they required had been eliminated in a single stroke by the provision of the tickets leaving Olaf free to concentrate on the more complex matters of strategy related to the main objective. As they filed in, the opulence of the real opera house washed over them like a flood. The photos and the mockup they had played out their practice run in could not compare to the true beauty and grandeur displayed before them. Without a word, the men dispersed to their pre-assigned areas. Olaf nodded his head slightly at David as the Englander led his small band toward the restrooms. Climbing the Grand Staircase, Olaf and his men were struck by how the sound resonated around the foyer. Everything seemed to be amplified considerably by all of the marble and masonry used in the building’s construction.

As they took their seats in the box, Olaf suppressed a sharp intake of breath as he caught a glimpse of Adolph Hitler sitting within a few feet of him in the other box. With a careful eye, the Norseman scanned the occupants of the cubicle, making certain that the number of men within matched with those they had trained with. Sighing inaudibly, Olaf was relieved to see one less guard than they had originally anticipated. He would have to keep an eye out to see whether it was a temporary lack of personnel or if perhaps there had been a change in Hitler’s entourage. He prayed that things would continue to swing in their favor as the time drew closer for the opera to begin.

The only difference in the way events were playing out so far occurred just before the overture. A sweating, nervous Frenchman took the stage and in German welcomed the assemblage, thanking them for attending. He then began a half-hearted diatribe about how much better life in Paris was under the Fuhrer’s care. With a sweep of his arm, he bowed to Hitler in his box. This caused a far too enthusiastic standing ovation that Hitler eventually acknowledged, raising his arm arrogantly in the Nazi salute. While the applause irrationally continued, Olaf took the opportunity to do a visual sweep of the theatre and double check the positions of his men. Relief and satisfaction swelled within him as his eyes saw that everything was exactly as it should be. When it seemed as though the applause would never abate, the orchestra at last started the overture, causing the ovation to taper off and the audience to take their seats.

As the curtain was raised, the stage revealed extravagant sets and over romantically costumed actors. Though he recognized the mythology being represented through the operatic medium, Olaf was struck by how grandiose and exaggerated every element of the storytelling was. The music did little to balance these things out. It was loud and brash, laden with pretentiousness. His level of concern over how his men would react rose slightly. He was especially anxious about that handful of men who still held with a bit of religious fanaticism to the old beliefs. There were aspects of this presentation that almost assuredly would cause offense. Olaf could only trust in their discipline as warriors and in the divine will of the Christ to hold them back from any kind of foolish action they may be tempted to take.

When the first intermission came, Olaf breathed a sigh of relief. There had as yet been no roars of offense from his men. From his vantage point, those he could see seemed calm and fixated upon the mission. Thus far they were controlling their emotions. He stole a glance in the direction of Hitler’s box and saw that, just as William predicted when he developed his training test, all but one of the bodyguards had left the box. If only that would hold true again for when they planned to strike during the second intermission, the remainder of the mission would hopefully play out flawlessly. Olaf leaned back in his seat and pulled the back curtain of the box open slightly. Again, his men who were to be in the hallway had disappeared at intermission, some of them presumably in the restroom minding the doppelganger. He had every confidence that they would be exactly where they needed to be when the time came to move. They did have the added burden of the extra man in Hitler’s double, but he had no fear that they would be able to accomplish what he had given them to do. The new strategy differed slightly from the original one, but not so much that it was fraught with unknowns. Olaf felt that he had anticipated all that was necessary to carry out the transfer. The only true unknown was how effectively they could move with a prisoner who would be unquestionably contrary to being taken.

The lights flickered in the theatre. Watching as the seats began to fill again, Olaf could feel his body tensing slightly. He was not looking forward to enduring another act of over the top German romanticism of his people’s culture. Bowing his head, he whispered a short prayer that his men would remain calm and composed. The Berserker trance could arise in an instant if a man allowed his rage to go unchecked especially among those who still were pagan. Olaf was most concerned about Canute the Stout. The man was well known for his fiery temper. Over his past year or two in Olaf’s service though, Canute had shown great progress in keeping his rage subdued. The young man’s interactions with Father Mathias had markedly impacted him. It was Olaf’s entreaty to the Christ that the combination of the priest’s brutal death and the pressure of being outside their own time would not cause Canute to relapse. To have that occur at such a critical point as this could be potentially devastating. Olaf would trust to faith. If he believed they were brought here to this time for such a purpose as they were now engaged in, he had to trust that those things outside his control were well within God’s.