Kjartan looked at the dark piece of candy in his hand and thanked her. He then said good-bye, and the lambs followed him as he headed toward the village.
Question four: Who was the cruelest woman? First letter. The saga of the Greenlanders talks about Freydis, the daughter of Eirik the Red, and how she reached an agreement with the brothers Helgi and Finnbogi to travel with her to Vinland. But after they arrived, Freydis’s real wickedness was revealed and she got her men to enter their lodge and kill them. When all the men were dead, there were five women left that no one wanted to kill. Then Freydis picked up an axe, struck the women, and killed them. The answer is “Freydis,” and the first letter is f.
He said, “Here the guest writes the name Sigrid, the daughter of Skogul-Tosti.”
She browsed through the book and said, “This one is also possible. Harald Grenski came to the estate of Queen Sigrid the daughter of Skogul-Tosti. That same evening another six kings had arrived there, and all proposed to Sigrid. The kings sat in the ancient hall. There was no shortage of drink, so everyone got very drunk and fell asleep. Then in the night Sigrid bade her men fall on them with fire and weapons. The hall was burned down with the seven kings and their men inside. Sigrid said that this would dissuade puny kings from other lands from coming to her and trying to woo her. The letter is therefore s.”
CHAPTER 21
Inspector Dagbjartur found Fridrik Einarsson, a university lecturer in Icelandic philology, at home in his quaint bungalow in Aragata. It had been two hours since Dagbjartur had left Egill, his collaborator at the National Library. He had been allowed to use the library phone and had immediately been able to reach the man Egill had recognized from the newspaper photograph. They set an appointment, and Dagbjartur had a bite to eat at a diner while he was waiting. He then took a stroll by the pond in the mild weather and eventually waved down a cab that took him past the university to Aragata.
Dagbjartur was led into a living room and invited to sit in a deep armchair. The walls were lined with crammed bookshelves, and large, hand-carved chess pieces stood on a chessboard on a beautiful table. The inspector gazed at them, sensing there was something odd about them.
“That’s Viking chess,” said Fridrik, a tall thin man in his sixties. “In addition to the traditional chessmen, there are two Vikings on each team. The chessboard is therefore ten squares wide on each side, instead of the traditional eight.”
Fridrik adjusted the chess parts on the board and patiently waited for Dagbjartur to come to the point.
The policeman gave himself plenty of time to study the chess set and finally said, “You went to Hotel Borg at the end of August last year and asked for Professor Gaston Lund of Copenhagen. Is that correct?”
Fridrik seemed startled. He thought a moment and then said, “Yes. That’s absolutely right. How on earth do you know that?”
“It doesn’t really matter, but why were you looking for him?”
“Is this investigation linked to Professor Lund’s death on that island in the west? I heard about that.”
“Yes, we’re investigating his death,” Dagbjartur answered. “Why were you trying to find the man?”
Fridrik needed to reflect on this a moment. “I was driving my car down Posthusstr?ti,” he finally said, “and I just happened to glance through the hotel’s restaurant window as I was passing. I thought I’d spotted the professor sitting at a table. I knew him very well from the days when I worked in Copenhagen and thought it was incredible that he would come to Reykjavik without contacting me or even giving me a call. It was bugging me all day, so next morning I went to the hotel and asked them if he was staying there. It turned out to be a mirage.”
Dagbjartur gave Fridrik an inquisitive look. “But now you know that he was here during that period, don’t you?”
“Yes, like I said, I heard about that dreadful thing in the west. I must have had some kind of premonition. It’s happened to me before. I think I recognize someone and it turns out to be a mistake. Then maybe a short while later I meet the same person in some other place. It’s an inexplicable gift.”
Dagbjartur shook his head. “This time you were probably seeing right. You just got the wrong information at the hotel.”
“Really, did I? It had to be. I saw Lund so clearly.”
“You said you would have expected him to visit you?”
“Yes, of course. We worked together for many years in Copenhagen and often chatted about what we were going to do when he came to Iceland. He came here twice in the twenties and thirties but traveled far too little. But he knew the historical spots so well that he could describe them in the minutest detail. He must have intended to surprise me with his visit when that terrible thing happened to him.”
Fridrik stared down at the table.
Dagbjartur paused a moment and then said, “It looks as if no one knew about the professor’s trip.”
“Oh really? Not that there’s anything strange about that.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. The professor didn’t have any family, and when I knew him best, he was used to taking summer vacations alone. He never let anyone know about them and just wandered around Europe, following his personal whims. He’d always have lots of fun stories to tell when he came back to Copenhagen, though. He felt he could establish better contact with the locals if he traveled alone.”
Fridrik stood up and walked to the bookshelves.
“The priest in Flatey claims he avoided his acquaintances in Iceland because of some controversy over a manuscript. Do you reckon that’s true?” Dagbjartur asked.
Fridrik smiled numbly. “Oh yeah? Is that what it was? He was certainly adamantly opposed to most of his Icelandic colleagues on the issue, but I can’t think of anyone who would have tried to make him pay for it in any way, although I’m sure he would have been the toughest opponent to dissuade. He cared more about those manuscripts than any human being. And he knew all the arguments and legal loopholes to prevent them from being handed over.”
As Fridrik spoke, he took a folder off the shelf, opened it, found a typed sheet, and said, “I’ve been collecting material on this manuscript issue. Here’s a thesis by Gaston Lund that I translated. Listen to this extract: ‘The international research that is being conducted on the basis of these manuscripts would be hindered if the collection were to be dispersed. The results of the studies that are being made in Copenhagen are published in all the major European languages, whereas in Reykjavik the results would only be published in modern Icelandic. The humanities departments of the University of Copenhagen would unanimously oppose any handing over of the manuscripts.’”
Fridrik slipped the sheet back into the folder and put it back in its place. Then he took out a photo album and placed in on the table beside the chess board.
“So didn’t Gaston Lund have any enemies in this country then?” Dagbjartur asked.
“Some of our fellow countrymen might have let a few insults fly when he vented his opinions at meetings. Lund could also be rash and excitable, but it was never serious enough not to able to be solved with a good glass of schnapps. But I think I know the reason why he wanted to travel incognito.”
“Oh yeah?”
“The first time Gaston Lund came here was in 1926 or 1927. He was a member of what was considered to be a very gifted group of young Danish scholars. The story goes that Lund became intimately acquainted with a pretty local girl somewhere down south and got her pregnant. The fact that he refused to have anything to do with the child says a lot about his lower nature. He didn’t come back until he accompanied King Christian the tenth of Denmark on his official visit in 1936. The mother of the child planned to introduce him to his son, but Lund reacted badly to this reunion and washed his hands of them. The Icelanders in Copenhagen heard the story and weren’t impressed. But personally I think his behavior was just something that was beyond his control. The whole concept of taking on a father’s role was so overwhelming to him that he couldn’t cope. He always treated women with great suspicion after that. I think he didn’t dare go to Iceland because he was scared of bumping into the mother of his child. And now when he finally came back again, he tried to keep a low profile in this clumsy manner.”
“Did he ever receive any threats from this woman?”
