“I’ll go get him,” said Hogni. “Sigurbjorn’s old boat is down there on the shore. You can give me a hand pushing her into the sea.”
Question thirty-five: The price of the king’s axe. Sixth letter. The king held an axe that was inlaid in gold and had a shaft that was enveloped in silver with a large silver band embedded with a precious stone. Halli kept staring at the axe. The king noticed this immediately and asked Halli if he liked it. He answered that he did.
“Have you ever seen a finer axe?”
“I don’t think so,” said Halli.
“Would you submit yourself to sodomy for this axe?” asked the king.
“No,” said Halli, “but I can understand why you want to sell it for the same price that you paid for it.”
“So it shall be, Halli,” said the king. “Take it and make the best use of it; it was given to me as a gift and therefore I shall give it you.” Halli thanked the king.
The answer is “sodomy,” and the sixth letter is y.
CHAPTER 52
Hogni, Gudjon, and Thormodur Krakur found the little boat lying overturned on a patch of grass above the shore to the south of the church. Carefully turning it over, they discovered two oars underneath it. Grabbing the boat, the men then gently eased it into the sea and pushed it. Hogni climbed on board with the oars and ensured that the boat was not leaking. Then he rowed vigorously across the strait, while his companions remained on the shore.
A shamefaced young man stood on a rock at sea level as Hogni approached. Kjartan stepped onto the boat when Hogni reached him, and they immediately turned back.
“Thank you for fetching me. I’m so lucky you spotted me out here,” said Kjartan.
“You probably would have survived,” Hogni answered, unable to suppress a smile. “The tide will be going down again pretty soon, so you could have walked back the same way you came.”
“You’re probably right. I was a bit taken aback when I realized how high the tide had grown in the strait. The strip was almost dry when I walked out there. I just wanted to take a look at the birdlife. Then, when I was going to turn back, I saw the tide was coming in and I didn’t have the guts to waddle across. I didn’t know how deep it was.”
“You did the right thing to wait,” Hogni answered. “There’s quicksand around here and some steep drops on the way.”
“I just hope no one was starting to worry about me.”
“The police were asking for you. They’ll certainly be relieved to see you again.”
Question thirty-six: Killed by a serpent. First letter. King Olaf Tryggvason went with his men to Raud the Strong’s farm and broke in. Raud was seized and tied up, and his men were killed or arrested. The king offered to have Raud baptized, but Raud answered that he would never believe in Christ and uttered many blasphemies. Raud was then tied to an iron bar and a round pin of wood was shoved between his teeth to force his mouth open. The king then ordered a snake to be placed in Raud’s mouth, but the snake refused to enter it. A red-hot iron was then used to force the serpent in. The snake slid into Raud’s mouth and down his throat to his heart and then gnawed its way out his left side. Raud then died. The answer is “Raud,” and the first letter is r.
CHAPTER 53
D istrict Officer Grimur and Inspector Thorolfur were alone in the school when Kjartan arrived, breathless after rushing there. Hogni came in right behind him.
“I’m sorry,” said Kjartan. “I seem to have gotten lost.”
Grimur appeared to be relieved to see him again in one piece, but Thorolfur had a sullen air.
“Hogni’s promised to call off the search,” Kjartan continued.
“Where’ve you been all day?” Thorolfur asked.
“When I left here,” Kjartan answered, “I got my bag and walked across the island to visit Johanna, the doctor. She invited me to take a bath in her house. After that I lay down for a bit and I must have fallen fast asleep, because when I woke up she was gone. I found it a bit uncomfortable lying there in a deserted house with the corpse of an old man, so I went out for a walk on the southern shore just to look at the birds and think. I walked quite far out from the island and didn’t think of the rising tide.”
Thorolfur shook his head with a skeptical air. “What was it that you needed so badly to think about?” he asked.
“I needed to catch my bearings a bit.”
“Have you gone astray?”
“No, but a lot has happened over the past days, and I’m not used to dealing with this kind of stress. I normally try to avoid situations I can’t mentally handle. It takes very little to knock me out of kilter, and then I get depressed.”
Thorolfur waited a moment before asking, “Is there anything special you’d like to tell me before I put my first questions to you?”
“Anything special?”
“Yeah. Something that you feel could clarify this case?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Very well. We’ve been informed that you knew the late Bryngeir and, moreover, that you served a prison sentence for manslaughter.”
Kjartan looked apologetically at Grimur before answering. “Yes. Both of those assertions are correct. I knew Bryngeir, and I did time in prison. But I still maintain that the killing was an accident.”
“Bryngeir was connected to this manslaughter case,” said Thorolfur.
“Yes.”
“Tell me about that.”
“Do you want to hear the whole story from the beginning?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve heard many long stories today, so one more won’t make a difference.”
Kjartan loosened his collar. “Very well then. The story starts when I was in my final year at high school and I joined a club called the Jomsviking Society.”
“Jomsviking Society? Who are they?” Thorolfur asked.
“The Jomsvikings were a pack of young swashbucklers from the ancient town of Jomsborg at the end of the tenth century. Their story ended when they were defeated in a battle against Earl Hakon in Norway.”
“Tell me about this club.”
“There were about thirty boys in it, who were either finishing high school or in their first or second year at university. A bunch of lively, intelligent young men, most of them from well-off families. I was an exception, since I had very little money and was withdrawn.”
“What was the purpose of this club?”
“Officially, it was meant to be a reading or cultural club, but at the same time it was a semi-secret society. It had been running for several decades. New members were selected from pupils in their final years, and normally people left the club when they were well into their university studies. There was, therefore, a constant turnover of fresh blood in the club. When I joined they held meetings once a month, often in little halls or on the premises of a company that the father of one of the members managed. For the fun of it, we’d have readings of racy limericks that members had dug up or composed themselves. Sometimes up-and-coming authors were asked to read
