hand, it was probably overuse that damaged the books the most. Books were lent from person to person and read from cover to cover. Then new transcripts were made and the old shreds were lost. The Reformation also cast a bad light on anything written by the monks. It is not known who held the Flatey Book after Jon Hakonarson in Vididalstunga, but in the latter half of the fifteenth century it was in the hands of Thorleifur Bjornsson, a seneschal in Reykholar. It was then owned by Thorleifur’s grandson, Jon Bjornsson, in Flatey, and he gave the book to his grandson, Jon Finnsson, who also lived in Flatey; and it is after their home island that the book is named.
“In the sixteenth century, national awareness was awakening in Europe. An emphasis was placed on the power of the nation and the strength of the kingdom. Interest in the history of nations grew, and in the Nordic countries, learned men knew that sources were to be found in Iceland. The Danish king sent manuscript collectors to Iceland in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and Arni Magnusson was the most prominent of these. But there were other collectors, too. The bishop sagas refer to Jon the farmer in Flatey, saying that he had a big and thick vellum manuscript of monk writings containing the histories of the Norwegian kings and a lot more, and here it was generally referred to as the Flatey Book…”
CHAPTER 15
Kjartan and Grimur headed to the telephone exchange after their visit to Ystakot and made calls all over. They contacted the mail boat over the Gufunes radio, since it was positioned out in the bay of Faxafloi, on its way to Stykkisholmur with a cargo of cement from Akranes. The crew of the boat could offer them no information on the foreign passenger. He could well have been on board, but they had no specific recollection of him. It would mainly have been the cook who interacted with the passengers the most, but he had been on vacation for those weeks last year. A young girl, who had just graduated from the domestic college, had replaced him during his absence. She was now married to someone in the Westman Islands, as far as they knew.
Reverend Veigar in Reykholar remembered Gaston Lund very well but had not heard from him, nor expected to hear from him. He had only stayed one night in Reykholar. The hotel owner in Stykkisholmur confirmed that Lund had not stayed at the hotel overnight, after the boat arrived from Flatey. The bus for Reykjavik was leaving the following morning, so he assumed he must have stayed somewhere else in the village, if he had arrived on the boat.
The driver of the Stykkisholmur bus was at his home in Reykjavik. “I can’t even remember who was on my bus yesterday,” he answered when Grimur asked him whether he remembered a Danish passenger on September 4 last year.
Finally, there was a message from the detective division in Reykjavik. Gaston Lund had stayed in Hotel Borg for two nights when he came to Iceland and left his case in storage while he was traveling around the country. The case had been kept in a storage room in the hotel’s basement and had been forgotten. This was why no one had wondered why it hadn’t been collected.
Kjartan and Grimur sat at the telephone exchange until dinnertime, continuing with their enquiries. Stina, the head of the telephone exchange, and her colleague in Stykkisholmur stayed open long past their normal working hours, eavesdropping on the conversations with excitement.
More information arrived from the Danish embassy. Gaston Lund had traveled from Copenhagen to Norway in mid-July. He was single, somewhat eccentric in his habits, and apparently liked to keep to himself. His colleagues at the University of Copenhagen knew he intended to go to Bergen, Trondheim, and Stiklestad in Norway, but he had never mentioned any visit to Iceland. Questions soon began to be asked when he failed to turn up to deliver his lecture at the manuscript symposium and to teach at the university. An extensive search was then launched in Norway. There had been a ferry accident near Bergen at the beginning of September, and people were starting to wonder whether he might have been among the victims. The fact that the professor had been found dead on a deserted in Iceland made headlines in Copenhagen.
On the state radio news there had been a long report on the case, and the district magistrate from Patreksfjordur was quoted as saying that there was an investigation underway.
“…In 1647 Bishop Brynjolfur visited the West Fjords and celebrated mass in the church of Flatey on the twelfth Sunday after trinity, which was the fifteenth of September. Brynjolfur then offered to buy the Flatey Book, first for money and then for land, but his offer was rejected. But when Jon Finnsson then followed the bishop to the ship, he handed him the good manuscript. One can assume that the bishop intended to print the book in Latin translation for learned men, but he did not have the king’s authorization to run a printing press in Skalholt because the bishop of Holar had exclusive printing rights in Iceland.
“The Danish king Fridrik III reigned between 1648 and 1670. He had a keen interest in ancient knowledge and in 1656 wrote to Bishop Brynjolfur, instructing him to send him any antiquities, old stories, and documents that could be found in Iceland to increase His Majesty’s collection in the Royal Library. The bishop then communicated the king’s request to the Court of Legislature of the Althing, and in the same year he dispatched the Flatey Book abroad and it has been in the Royal Library ever since. Fridrik III acquired the Flatey Book as the king of Iceland, and one therefore needs to regard it as belonging to the Icelandic state. These are the reasons why Icelanders are currently requesting the book to be returned to Iceland, and this concludes this history of the Flatey Book.”
CHAPTER 16
Hogni continued working on the seal pups when Grimur and Kjartan went off to the telephone exchange. All of the fur had been pinned to the gable of the hut, but there was still a lot of meat left on the carcasses and the fat was meant to be melted into oil.
Little Nonni came walking down the shore with a dented milk canister in his hand and timidly greeted the teacher.
“Have you read that Indian story I lent you yet, Nonni my friend?” Hogni asked.
“Yeah, twice.”
“Twice? That was unnecessary. We can go to the library together and see if we can find another fun book that you haven’t read yet.”
“I’m reading The Flying Dutchman. Dad got a loan of it.”
“That’s not a nice book.”
“I know. It’s really spooky.”
“Yes. It’s got a lot of ghosts in it. I wouldn’t lend that book to small children.”
“I only read it during the day and at night keep it where the potatoes are stored. That way I don’t get too scared.”
“I see. Have you planted the potatoes yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, almost all of them.”
“Have you caught any seal pups this spring?”
“No, none. Dad and Grandpa went out to check the net by Ketilsey this morning, but didn’t catch anything. It’s my fault, Dad says.”
“Why is it your fault?”
“I shat on the island and the seals smell the smell, Dad says. But I’m sure it’s more the dead man who’s to blame. The smell off him was a lot worse.”
Hogni found an old washing bucket and chucked some pieces of seal meat into it.
“There you go, lad. Take that home to your dad. Bring the bucket back tomorrow. Then we can go to the library and find something fun to read. Remember that books are your best friend,” he said, smiling.
Nonni took the bucket and placed it under his arm. Then, fully focused, he started walking toward home without saying thank you or good-bye.
“ Can you help me to understand the questions and answers in the Flatey enigma?” he asked.
