that the Wends fled. Egill asked his servant to fetch him a drink. The servant answered, “There has been so much commotion on the ship today. The barrels are all broken and the drink has flowed down to the keel.”
Egill said, “But I must have a drink.”
The servant answered, “Please don’t, sire. Most of it is blood and bodily fluids.”
Egill stood up and removed the helmet from his head and dipped it into the keel and had three large drinks. After this Egill came to be known as Blood Egill. The answer is “Blood Egill,” and the first letter is b.
He said, “Here the guest just wrote ‘Egill,’ and the first letter is e.”
CHAPTER 30
The couple in Radagerdi sat playing chess in the kitchen when they heard Benny coming in late at night. It was warm and cozy by the stove, and the scent of coffee wafted in the air.
“Is there anything to eat?” he asked.
“There are boiled puffin breasts in the larder,” his mother Hildur answered.
“Were you hanging out with that guy from Reykjavik?” Gudjon, the farmer, asked when Benny reappeared with the puffin breast, which he had sliced and was feeding to himself with a penknife.
“Yeah, I’d had enough. He wouldn’t share any of his rum. He drank it all himself.”
“You’re too young to be boozing with a grown-up man, Benny dear,” said his mother.
“I’m not too young just to have a taste. There’s never any fun around here,” Benny said before disappearing from the kitchen. They heard him going up to the loft and turning on his transistor radio.
“I think that boy’s going to move away from us if we continue living here,” said Hildur. “He would have left ages ago if he didn’t have that crush on little Hafdis in Svalbardi.”
Gudjon nodded and moved the bishop two squares on the chessboard.
They were silent a moment as they focused on the game. Finally Gudjon said, “Hogni, the teacher, mentioned that he’s interested in buying the house if we move. He’s tired of living in the school.”
Hildur answered him, after giving it some thought: “If we sell the house, we could settle our debt with the co-op and maybe cover our trip to Stykkisholmur, but not a lot more than that. Check!”
“Check? Hmm, we’d also get something for our land. Sigurbjorn could do with more grassland. He has some money in the savings bank to pay for that. If we could rent land on the mainland, we could take the cattle and sheep with us. Otherwise, we could slaughter the livestock to pay off the co-op debt.”
Gudjon hid his king behind his rook.
“But what if we don’t get any land?” said Hildur.
Gudjon smiled reassuringly. “You’re pretty good at filleting fish, and I can do some manual labor. And I can always take the boat out to sea and fish if I can fix the engine.”
“It won’t be easy to go away and leave all our friends behind,” said Hildur, moving her knight.
“We can come here in the spring and work for the other farmers. But we can’t hang around here in the winter without a bigger farm.”
“Do you really think Hogni can buy the house?”
“Yes, yes. He can also take out a loan,” said Gudjon, moving his bishop.
“We can think about it over the summer and decide in the fall,” said the housewife, and then she concentrated on the game.
“Yes, but I think we should go for it,” said Gudjon. He found it difficult to focus on the chess and conduct a conversation at the same time. He looked at the board in confusion and finally played his knight.
Hildur promptly slid her rook down the board: “Checkmate!”
Question fourteen: They chose the spots to fall on. Seventh letter. The Baglar were being besieged by King Sverrir at the rock of Tunsberg. The Baglar saw banners from two armies. One came from Frod’s Ridge, the other from the town. They fought when they met; some fell and others fled. The Baglar then urged Hreidar to abandon the rock and assist their men. Hreidar answered, “Let’s see what they do first and if the Birkibeins are chased to the trench.” And then he added, “There is something odd about the way they are fleeing. It seems to me that they’re playing a trick on us. Do you notice how they choose dry spots to fall on or else fall on their shields? And do you see any sign of blood on their weapons or garments? No! Neither do I,” he said. “This must be one of Sverrir’s ruses.” The answer is “Birkibeins,” and the seventh letter is e.
CHAPTER 31
Sunday, June 5, 1960
The state radio made sure all Icelanders realized Whitsunday was on its way. Psalms bellowed out of Ingibjorg’s radio, filling the district officer’s home. The radio choir was singing Icelandic Whitsunday psalms.
It was still bright and slightly cloudy over Breidafjordur, and the wind had subsided and seemed to be turning. The farmers scrutinized the sky above and forecast good weather for the day and then rain in the evening. That wasn’t such a bad thing, since the fields needed a sprinkle. The wells were also running low. But it would be good if the dry weather could hold up during the day while the church guests were walking about.
A festive atmosphere had spread across the village by the time Kjartan descended from the loft at around ten and peered outside. Grimur had put on his dark Sunday best, and he looked washed and shaven. His mop of hair was combed back, and he had brushed his bushy beard. Ingibjorg was wearing a pretty bodice and had sprayed herself with perfume. Pastries were served with the morning coffee.
The national flag had been hoisted on the high flagpole in front of the church and flapped gently in the warm breeze. Here and there people could be seen strolling about, but no one was working. Days of rest were sacred, especially Whitsundays.
Through the kitchen window, Grimur watched motorboats loaded with church guests from the inner isles approaching the strait between Hafnarey and Flatey.
“It used to be a more impressive sight back in the days when the island boats came to mass under lily-white sails. I think the good Lord probably preferred that,” he said wistfully in between the names of the boats he was rattling off, as well as the names of those who were probably on board. Every now and then he lifted an old pair of binoculars to his eyes to confirm the identity of a person he had already guessed.
“Yes, yes, I knew it, that’s the Skaley boat,” he said smugly.
The travelers made the crossings in the boats in their everyday clothes, but carried church clothes with them in suitcases, as well as picnics in chests and flasks of coffee. People stepped ashore on Eyjolfur’s pier and vanished into the houses of friends and relatives only to reappear in the village again a short time later, dressed in their festive clothes. Some knocked stealthily on Asmundur the storekeeper’s window, and he ushered them into the store through the back door on the eastern side of the building. The store was naturally closed on holy mass days, but he could always make an exception for people in dire need. The co-op, on the other hand, was firmly locked since it was next door to the vicarage and the priest himself was a member of the company’s board.
Hogni, the organist, rounded up all the choir members once all the boats had arrived and walked ahead of the group up to the church. They were supposed to rehearse before the mass.
At one thirty, the deacon, Thormodur Krakur, left his home in his Sunday best and crossed the village towing his cart with his wife, Gudridur, sitting flat out on top of it. When they reached the vicarage, the priest and his wife appeared ready for the mass, and the four of them went to the church.
Ingibjorg was a member of the church choir and had vanished with the organist as soon as she had finished washing up after lunch. Grimur and Kjartan sat in the living room, drinking coffee in silence. Grimur was perusing through the weekly supply of newspapers that had arrived on the mail boat the day before, while Kjartan tackled a puzzle in a Danish weekly and thought of Gaston Lund. He was trying to form a picture of him from the few fragments of information they had gathered.
“Tell me something,” he said to attract Grimur’s attention. “Does anyone know who the father of Gudrun in
