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57

Sure, sure, answered her husband, Ludda-Kristjan, and

shrugged his left shoulder. He might be one of the volatile

souls from Kák, but against his wife there was nothing

much he could to do. He dared not tell her to shut her

damn mouth and stop all this strange nonsense. However,

that’s how the flock around Provost Lund talked. They were

so sentimental it was outright revolting.

An exception was the Norwegian corporal Nils Tvibur, or

Muhammed, as he was also called. On Cross Day at the

beginning of May he paid a visit to Ludda-Kristjan’s

workshop and said there was no point in wasting wood.

Considering the circumstances, it was enough to make

every coffin a foot high, and if the epidemic continued, they

would have to make some other provision.

Ludda-Kristjan asked if he was thinking of a mass grave;

that was exactly what Nils had in mind. If a mass grave was

dug, they would need to wrap the dead in linen and

sprinkle the corpses with lime.

Among the soldiers, also known as “hunters,” stationed at

Fort Skansin, Nils Tvibur was the one the county

administrator most trusted. You could take the corporal at

his word; the man meant what he said. The hunters were

responsible for unloading the ships that came to trade. In

turn, it was trade that funded the operation at Skansin. As

corporal, Nils was the obvious choice for foreman.