“No, definitely not. But he was so deeply intimidated by her that he didn’t dare to come here for decades.”
“Do you know her name?”
“No. I heard this story as a piece of gossip and never asked for any further details.”
“And could you write me out a list of all the Icelanders that you know he knew personally?”
“I can do that, yes,” said Fridrik, skimming through the album. “Here’s a picture I took of Gaston Lund. On a short trip to Sweden.”
Dagbjartur saw the proud figure of a man standing in front of a group of people.
Fridrik said, “If you’re interested in the professor’s other faults, I could tell you that he was incredibly domineering. He often took over on those trips, uninvited, and that could be tiring. To people who didn’t know him, it came across as brashness and arrogance. He could also be quite vain and full of himself and his position. In most of his traits, he was unlike any of the Danes I’ve ever known. They’re normally gentler and more easygoing than Professor Lund was.”
“Could I borrow that picture?” Dagbjartur asked.
Fridrik carefully removed it from the photo album and handed it to Dagbjartur, who stuck it into his notebook.
“They say in Flatey that Gaston Lund traveled there to try his hand at some riddle connected to the Flatey Book. Are you familiar with that story?” Dagbjartur asked.
Fridrik smiled. “Aenigma Flateyensis. It would have given Professor Lund a great deal of prestige to be able to solve that enigma. He would have been quite happy to have that feather in his cap.”
“What kind of an enigma is it?” Dagbjartur asked.
“It’s just a few questions about the sagas contained in the Flatey Book, but I’m not the best man to tell you that story. Arni Sakarias, the poet and historian, is the man you need to talk to about that.”
Question five: King Magnus’s men. Second letter. King Sverrir Sigurdsson reigned in Norway from 1177 to 1202, and his men were the valiant Birkibeins. It had previously been considered shameful to be called a Birkibein, but following the fall of Earl Erling it was deemed an honor. There were then constant conflicts between King Magnus and his men. It happened that an old beggar woman died and left behind her a cowled garment, or a hekla, as it was called. A large quantity of silver was found stitched up inside it. When King Magnus’s men heard about this, they took and burned the garment, sharing the silver between them. This became known to the Birkibeins, who from that point onwards called them the Heklaufs, and the second letter is e.
CHAPTER 22
T he Flatey library stands at the top of the island, just a few yards beyond the church. Kjartan contemplated the building when he reached the gate of the low fence. It was a tiny little building, even smaller than it looked from down below in the village. Once he had let himself in with the key, he discovered a single narrow room lined with bookshelves. Grimur had told Kjartan that the lion’s share of the library’s collection-old parchment manuscripts, diaries, and files-had long ago been transferred south to Reykjavik where they were preserved in the national library. What remained was old popular literature that was borrowed and read by the parishioners. Kjartan glanced at the spines of various books and dipped into some of them. Titles included The Treasure by Selma Lagerlof, The Ship Sails by Nordal Grieg, and Anna of Heidarkot by Elinborg Larusdottir. Not exactly the most contemporary of selections.
There was no mystery as to where the Munksgaard edition of the Flatey Book was kept. Wedged between two windows against the northern wall, there was a low table covered with a pane of glass, and in a drawer underneath it there was a large open book. Kjartan looked at the pages through the glass. These were black-and- white photographs of the original pages of the manuscript in the same scale. The lettering was clear and distinguishable, but Kjartan was unable to read it. He opened the drawer and turned the pages. At the front he found some old handwritten sheets that he could read. On the top of the first page the words Aenigma Flateyensis had been written, and below that there was a poem:
A black darkness looms over the land, but the sailing carries on the distant trail to death’s cold shores.
The most valiant asks: Why?
A potent spell dictates our journey,
And we are rowing for our lives,
Futile to seek any answers,
In battle we must place our trust.
Heavy gray clouds of eerie pelting hail,
Demanding the magic words,
The world under a skull storing thoughts for the winter.
The bottom two lines were in a different handwriting than the other lines of the poem and were followed by these words: This may be how the poet wanted it to end.
Below it there was a bizarre drawing that had been executed with a rough pencil. Probably the magic rune that Hallbjorg had referred to, Kjartan thought to himself.
On the next sheet there were some kind of questions, forty in total, written in beautiful and perfectly legible handwriting:
1. It will come near when it is God’s wish. 1 ^st letter.
2. Most impudent. 1 ^st letter.
3. The bad choice he made for me. 2 ^nd letter.
Kjartan dug into his pocket and fished out the answers Professor Lund had given to the priest and compared the questions.
1. Dangerous shot-D
2. Sarcastic Halli-S
3. Mother-O
Kjartan felt no closer. The questions seemed odd, and the answers said nothing to him. The fortieth and last question read as follows: Who spoke the wisest? Following that there were three rows of letters.
O S L E O Y I A R N R Y L
E M H O N E A E N W T L B
A U R M L E Q W T R O N E
Kjartan took out the note that Johanna had found in Gaston Lund’s pocket and which the priest had recognized. He examined the rows of letters written on its back and compared them with the three rows of letters written on the question sheet.
Professor Gaston Lund had clearly entered this library after he had said good-bye to the priest, and jotted down the key. And that was something he was forbidden to do and that would bring a curse on him, according to local belief. And he surely had been greatly cursed. The thought of it gave Kjartan a slight shudder. He refused to believe in curses of this kind, but there was no denying that it was very sinister nonetheless.
A note below the three rows explained that the thirty-nine correct answers should follow the same order as the thirty-nine letters in the answer to the fortieth question, and that this was how the poem should end.
Kjartan shoved the sheets back into the book. He stared at length at the note that had been found on the body, and then he decided that it was best to store that inside the manuscript as well. It was probably best to go along with the belief that the clues should be kept in the library and nowhere else. He wouldn’t feel comfortable walking around with it in his pocket, now that he realized what it was. He left the book as he had found it. Then, after locking the drawer, he pensively stepped out into the sunshine.
What was it that had compelled Gaston Lund to come to the library and write down that key before going to the ship? Had he been so desperate to solve the riddle that he deliberately broke the strict ancient rules of the
