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I – Beforehand

“Will you come with me to Belshazzar’s feast?” asked Agnetha.

“I didn’t know you’d been invited. I’ll have to ask Björn,” said Benny.

Benny strode off into the mountains to find Björn. Agnetha stayed at the hotel, sipping her alcohol-free absinthe. Wild winds were howling and storm clouds gathered.

Benny found Björn sheltering in a declivity. He was burning charcoal.

“Agnetha wants me to go with her to Belshazzar’s feast,” said Benny, after tipping his hat to Björn in greeting, “What do you think?”

“The gods may throw a dice,” said Björn, “Their minds as cold as ice.” He stared off into the mist-enshrouded distance, towards the fireworks factory and the abandoned tennis courts.

“I shall reflect on what you have said and come to a decision, then,” said Benny, “Thank you.”

On the way back to the hotel, Benny was accosted on the mountain path by Anni-Frid. She was dressed like a gaucho and looked as if she had been weeping.

“Anni-Frid, whatever is the matter?” asked Benny.

Anni-Frid dabbed at her tears with a paper napkin from the hotel. Her upper lip curled in a sneer. Discomfited by her silence, Benny began to gabble.

“Agnetha asked me to accompany her to Belshazzar’s feast,” he said, “And I asked Björn for his advice. He is up there in a declivity burning charcoal.”

“Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin,” said Anni-Frid, and she pranced away into the mist.

II – Afterwards

Returning from Belshazzar’s feast, Agnetha and Benny grew increasingly despondent, and by the time they reached the hotel both of them were staggering under the oppressive weight of grim Scandinavian misery.

“If Fernando were here,” groaned Benny, “He would brighten things up. He could draw sunbeams from a cucumber.”

“You forget that Fernando is but a fictional character in a songlet, Benny,” snapped Agnetha. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh,” said Benny, staring out of the hotel window. He saw Anni-Frid flit past, like a phantom. Agnetha was beating her fists upon a piece of pine furniture.

“At least here there is no mysterious writing upon the wall, as there was at the feast,” added Benny, trying to open a crack in the gloom.

All of a sudden Björn came striding manfully into the hotel lobby. His hair and beard and face and clothing were blackened from the charcoal he had been burning.

“I am looking for Anni-Frid,” he said, “Have you seen her?”

“No,” said Benny, lying through his teeth. But had he really seen her? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him again, as they had in Uppsala?

“Check the abandoned cow byre,” said Agnetha, “She went there earlier to clean her rifle.”

“Since many years I haven’t seen a rifle in her hand,” said Björn. He dashed outside into the mist that engulfed the hotel grounds.

Agnetha and Benny slumped in the lobby armchairs, expecting to hear a rifle shot in the distance. But none came. The only sound was the whirring of the fan above their heads and, outside, the strange raucous cries of such Scandinavian birds as had not flown south for the winter.

“Anyway, how would Fernando draw sunbeams from a cucumber?” asked Agnetha, eventually.

But Benny had fallen asleep, lost in dreams of Belshazzar.