difficulty was drying it and then keeping it dry. A row of haycocks behind her testified to their efforts so far.
She saw a figure on a horse picking its way along the Berserkjagata through the lava field. Hallgrimur. He was eighteen and although not tall, he was broadening out. Some of the younger girls in the region even found him attractive, much to Hildur’s disgust. She was surprised to see him pause as he passed her younger brother. Usually the two of them ignored each other.
‘Hello, Benni!’
Benedikt paused and straightened up. ‘Hello, Halli.’
‘What are you bothering to get the hay in for? I thought you’d sold the place?’
‘The new owner will need to feed his sheep this winter just like we do.’
‘Huh. He’s from Laxardalur, isn’t he? Can’t he bring his own hay?’
Benedikt shrugged at the stupidity of the remark and made as if to go back to work.
‘I hear your mother has bought the clothes store in town?’ Hallgrimur said.
‘That’s right.’
‘So you will be selling ladies’ underwear?’
‘I’m going to school in Reykjavik. The Menntaskoli.’
‘That’s a bit of a waste of time, isn’t it? But I suppose your mother won’t need you at home any more once she sells the farm.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Well,’ Hallgrimur said. ‘When you get to Reykjavik, remember what I told you.’ He glanced at Hildur, who looked away. ‘In the church, when we were kids. Do you remember?’
‘I remember,’ said Benedikt. ‘I remember very well.’
‘And you will keep your word?’
‘I always keep my word.’
‘Good,’ said Hallgrimur. He kicked his horse on.
‘Oh, Halli,’ said Benedikt.
Hallgrimur paused. ‘Yes?’
‘Do you remember what
Hallgrimur frowned. ‘No. No, I don’t.’
Benedikt smiled and went back to his scything.
Hallgrimur hesitated and then rode off. Hildur approached her brother. ‘What was all that about?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘Was it something to do with Dad?’
‘Really, Hildur, you don’t want to know.’
Hildur did want to know, but she knew there was no point in pushing her brother. He was stubborn in his own way.
‘I’m glad that boy won’t be our neighbour any more,’ she said.
‘So am I,’ said Benedikt. ‘So am I.’
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Magnus put the cup of coffee down on the nightstand inches from Ingileif’s head and climbed into bed beside her. As he sipped from his own mug, he studied her back. Her fair hair was spread over the pillow and her shoulders were moving up and down in a tiny shallow rhythm. She had a cluster of faded freckles above one shoulder blade that formed the shape of a crescent – he had never noticed them before. He felt an urge to lean over and run his hand down her spine, but he didn’t want to disturb her.
He smiled. He was lucky to wake up next to someone like her.
As though she could feel his eyes upon her, Ingileif stiffened, grunted and rolled over, blinking.
‘What time is it?’ she said.
‘Just after nine.’
‘That’s a bit early for a Sunday, isn’t it?’
‘I need to get going soon. I’ve got to go back up to Grundarfjordur.’
Ingileif sat up, her back against the pillow, and sipped her coffee. ‘Again?’
‘Now we know Harpa saw Oskar in London over the summer it’s all the more important to check up on her boyfriend. If he’s there. I’ll call the police up there to make sure he’s at home before I set off.’
‘Can I come? We could go for a walk afterwards. I could see Bjarnarhofn, if only from a distance. Or we could go talk to Unnur about Benedikt Johannesson. If you want to, of course.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Magnus.
‘Oh, come on. You supported me last spring when I was trying to come to terms with what I learned about my father’s death. I’d like to do the same for you.’
The idea of going anywhere near Bjarnarhofn again didn’t thrill Magnus. Ingileif may be right, perhaps it would be more bearable if she accompanied him.
‘You have to promise to leave me alone to interview Bjorn.’
‘I promise.’
Magnus smiled. ‘All right. Let me check with the Grundarfjordur police and then we’ll go.’
The sun was shining out of a pale blue sky as they drove north. Ingileif put a Beethoven symphony on the car’s CD system, great music for driving through the Icelandic countryside, she said. She was right. Magnus had little knowledge of classical music, but Ingileif was a good guide.
Pall, the constable in Grundarfjordur, had confirmed that although there were no lights on in the house, Bjorn’s motorbike was in his driveway as was his pickup truck. Magnus asked the constable to keep a discreet watch on the house until he got there. If Bjorn left home, Magnus wanted to know where he was going.
As they descended the north side of the mountain pass down towards Breidafjordur, Magnus pointed out the Berserkjahraun and Bjarnarhofn.
‘Is that a little church there, down by the sea?’ Ingileif asked.
‘Yes. It’s tiny,’ Magnus said. ‘Not much more than a hut.’
‘It’s cute. And why is it called Bjarnarhofn?’
‘It’s named for Bjorn the Easterner,’ Magnus said. ‘The son of Ketill Flat Nose, and the first settler in the area.’
‘I remember,’ said Ingileif. ‘But it’s a long time since I’ve read the
Ingileif had studied Icelandic Literature at university, and knew the sagas almost as well as Magnus. ‘And this is where the Swedish berserkers cut their path?’
‘Yes. You can still see the cairn where they were buried.’
‘Cool. Let’s stop there on the way back.’
‘Maybe,’ said Magnus.
Ingileif detected the note of caution in his voice. ‘Does your grandfather still live at the farm?’
‘He does. My uncle Kolbeinn farms the place now, but my cousin said that Grandpa still lives there with Grandma.’
‘And you don’t want to bump into him?’
‘No. I don’t.’
They drove on to Grundarfjordur. Magnus pulled over on the shore of the sheltered fjord a kilometre outside town and called Constable Pall. The sun glimmered off the quiet grey waters of the sheltered fjord.
Pall answered on the first ring. Apparently Bjorn had driven his pickup truck down to the harbour, and was working on a boat down there. Magnus drove through town and pulled up outside the police station, which was only a few metres away from the harbour. Pall was waiting for him, in uniform.
Magnus introduced Ingileif. ‘I’ll just go for a walk around town,’ she said. ‘Give me a call when you’ve finished.’
Magnus was glad to have the constable with him. He was still in a legal limbo-land, since he hadn’t yet graduated from the police college, and he wanted Pall to take notes. If Bjorn gave them any useful evidence, he didn’t want it questioned by a defence lawyer.
Pall was very happy to oblige.
There were a few boats of various sizes in the harbour. For a small town it had some serious fishing industry –
