Hogni went off to collect Thormodur Krakur, who, as was to be expected, arrived for the questioning in his Sunday suit, and with his walking stick and medal of honor pinned to his chest. His clothes were still damp after the night, although he had made a worthy attempt at drying them over the stove that morning. He had brought along his copies of the printed version of the Flatey Book, at Grimur’s request, and clutched them firmly in his arms.
Thorolfur contemplated the deacon at length from head to toe before starting the interrogation.
“Did you meet the deceased Bryngeir on Sunday?” he asked.
“Bryngeir came to my cowshed at around dinnertime on Sunday,” Thormodur Krakur haughtily replied. “He offered me a sip of rum, and I gave him a cup of milk and some dried fish instead. I sometimes have some stockfish hanging in the corner of the barn to nibble at between meals, and it came in handy that evening. Then we sat there and chatted a little.”
“What did you chat about?”
“We spoke about dreams and the extrasensory powers of some thinking beings. The late Bryngeir was knowledgeable on the subject, and it then transpired that he was very apt at deciphering unusual dreams. He’d also studied spiritism at night school with some famous medium in Reykjavik. Unfortunately, one doesn’t often meet evolved souls of this kind on the island. He was slightly psychic when he was sober. That’s why he drank so much, he told me. Some people can’t handle the power and try to suppress their talents. They need help. But he was willing and capable of reading dreams. He was able to solve the calf dream I’d been grappling with for so long. The dream is as follows: I sense I’m inside this church and then…”
“Thanks, that’s enough,” Thorolfur interrupted. “Where did he go after he left you?”
“He said he was going to find some way of getting to Stykkisholmur but that he was going to see the doctor first.”
“Was Bryngeir ill in some way?”
“No, it wasn’t a medical visit. I told him the old man’s body was in the house. He told me was going to offer his condolences to Johanna. I asked him to show some respect when he got there.”
“Did you expect him not to?”
“Naturally, he was a bit tipsy, but easy enough to handle, although in between he could be quite mischievous.”
“Did he ever mention the Dane?”
“No, not to me.”
“Do you know how he was going to get to Stykkisholmur?”
“Well, he was going to talk to the islanders who have boats or the small boat fishermen, but I doubt anyone would have been foolish enough to take him that night. The weather was getting worse.”
“Did he talk about where he would stay on Flatey if he didn’t get to Stykkisholmur?”
“No. I couldn’t put him up at my place because I don’t have an extra bed in the house, but I told him he could sleep in my barn if he wanted to. I just asked him to be careful with fire.”
“Do you think he stayed in the barn?”
“His things were still there when I walked into the barn yesterday morning.”
“What time did he leave your place?”
Thormodur Krakur thought a moment. “Let me see…I took the milk over to Reverend Hannes at around eight and went home for dinner. Then I went back up to the shed at around ten to give water to the cows and prepare for the night. He was gone by then.”
“Didn’t you see him again?”
“No, not alive.”
Question twenty-eight: Augurs a lucky journey. First letter. King Magnus and Earl Erling’s fleet anchored near Brottueyri, outside Skipacrook, and the men landed there. As the earl leaped on shore, he fell on his knees. Thrusting both hands into the ground, he said, “A fall augurs a lucky journey.” The answer is “fall,” and the first letter is f.