Bryngeir and Benny had watched the casket being lowered onto the mail boat. Bryngeir didn’t want to draw any closer, but he got Benny to identify the men on the pier for him.
“The district officer, the teacher, the deacon, and the priest,” said Benny. “The youngest guy is the magistrate’s assistant,” he added.
“Who owns these boats?” Bryngeir asked, pointing at the small boats moored at the pier.
“Some fishermen from other villages who were going to fish for the factory. But they haven’t been able to catch anything, so they’re moving to another village closer to better fishing grounds. Valdi from Ystakot owns the black one. He was the guy who found the dead man in Ketilsey,” Benny answered.
“What boats were here last fall when the Dane came here?”
“Here by the pier, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“There were no fishing boats here last fall.”
“Were there no boats at all then?”
“Maybe Valdi’s boat, at the most. He stores it away in the heart of winter. I can’t remember when he did that last year.”
“Aren’t there more boats on the island?”
“Yeah, but they’re all stored in the cove in the fall. It’s easier to keep an eye on them from the village that way, if the weather worsens.”
The mail boat was now backing out of the pier, and the funeral cortege was dispersing. Bryngeir dragged Benny around the corner, and they rushed back to the eastern side of the fish factory. There were a few wooden barrels, which they hid behind as the others walked by. Benny was puzzled by this odd behavior but got a bit of a kick from hanging out with such a worldly-wise guy and actually found this touch of spying pretty exciting.
From their hiding place, they watched the five men walking on up the road past the doctor’s house. Thormodur Krakur walked in front, towing the handcart, followed by the priest and finally Grimur, Kjartan, and Hogni.
“What would you do if you needed to get to Stykkisholmur but couldn’t wait for the mail boat?” Bryngeir asked Benny.
“I’d ask Dad to lend me his boat,” Benny answered, omitting to say there was no way he would be lent the boat to take it to Stykkisholmur. It was too long a crossing, and he didn’t know the sailing route on the southern side of the fjord.
“What about outsiders? How would they get to the mainland? What would I do if I needed to get to the mainland this evening?”
Benny thought a moment. He found it difficult to imagine why anyone would be in such a hurry.
“Well, of course, you could always get Dad to take you over to Brjansl?kur. Or Sigurbjorn in Svalbardi, or maybe Asmundur, the storekeeper. From there you can walk up to the road where the Isafjordur bus passes. You can also sail to the mainland in Vatnsfjordur if the tide is high. That’s a shorter walk.”
Bryngeir grew impatient. “But south to Stykkisholmur, lad?”
“Yeah, maybe you could get someone to take you there if the weather isn’t too bad. It’s just a bit far to go on an open boat in the dark.”
Bryngeir walked past the fish factory and onto the deserted pier. He stared at the boats that were moored there.
“But the guy who owns the black boat?” he asked. “Could he take me to Stykkisholmur?”
“No, not very likely,” said Benny. “Valdi never has money to buy enough fuel. He also gets to travel free on the mail boat because he always grabs the rope when they’re pulling into the pier.”
“Let’s pay him a visit in his croft. Show me the way.”
Benny walked ahead of him off the pier and up the path toward Ystakot. They spotted little Nonni on the shore, and he spotted them.
“Dad, Dad,” Nonni yelled back toward Ystakot. “Two big men are coming, Benny from Radagerdi and the boozer.”
Valdi had stepped out into the yard by the time Bryngeir and Benny arrived. Bryngeir eyed Valdi in silence. Benny kept his distance.
“What do you want?” Valdi finally asked.
“Can you take me to Stykkisholmur this evening?” Bryngeir asked.
“Why didn’t you take the mail boat?” Valdi asked.
“I was too late and missed it.”
Jon Ferdinand stepped into the yard as Valdi was thinking.
“I can’t see anything, I can’t see anything!” the old man shrieked.
“Open your eyes and then you’ll see, you fool!” said Valdi.
“Yeah, now I see the light, Valdi dear. You’re so good to me,” said Jon Ferdinand joyfully.
“You’re so full of crap, Dad. You’re a disgrace to us,” Valdi snapped angrily, and turned to Bryngeir. “You can get a farmer from one of the inner isles to take you over to the mainland after mass tomorrow. They’re all bound to come over for Whitsunday,” he said.
“But I need to get to Stykkisholmur tonight. How much do I have to pay you?”
Valdi shook his head. “I can’t leave the house. I’ve got to take care of my boy and my dad. He’s completely lost it.”
“What if I pay you three thousand kronur?”
“Three thousand kronur?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a lot of money.” Valdi calculated in his head. “That’s almost five finished seal pup furs.”
“Yes, that’s quite a sum, but I’m in a hurry.” Bryngeir pulled a wallet out of the pocket of his trousers.
Valdi stuffed his pipe and lit it. “Then I’ll have to take my dad with us,” he finally said, “and I’ve also got to buy fuel first. You’ve got to pay up front.”
Bryngeir turned to Benny with a grin. “You see, it’s just a question of the right price.” Then, addressing Valdi, he said, “Hey listen, I think Stykkisholmur can wait.”
Valdi winced. “Were you just bluffing with me?”
Bryngeir laughed. “I was just trying to establish the price of a ticket, my friend.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Valdi barked in a rage and stepped menacingly toward Bryngeir, who grinningly backed off but then tripped on a tussock and fell on his ass.
Benny stepped between them. “I’ll take him with me,” he said to Valdi, “and make sure he doesn’t come back again.” He then helped Bryngeir to his feet and led him away. When they had walked a few yards away from the croft, Benny said, “You better not make Valdi angry. He gets totally out of control. Once in the olden days he almost strangled a stranger in a fight. The man only saved himself by sticking a finger in Valdi’s eye. That’s why he’s blind in one eye.”
Bryngeir didn’t seem to be too happy about his awkward retreat. “Then he can lose his other eye if he has to,” he said, vexed.
Question twelve: Who cut King Sverrir’s ear? Third letter. A man lay seriously wounded close by. His name was Brynjolfur, the son of Kalf of the Faroes. He hoisted himself to his knees and struck the king with his sword, aiming at his neck. The king deflected the blow with the rim of his steel helmet, which the edge of the sword struck, but his ear was grazed, and his neck was seriously wounded. In the same instant, swords and halberds fell so heavily on Brynjolfur that he could barely sink to the ground. The answer is “Brynjolfur,” and the third letter is y.