A cloud of gloom hung over the district officer’s dining table that night. Grimur, Hogni, and Ingibjorg sat in the kitchen eating fried kittiwake eggs, puffin breast, and sugar-browned potatoes. There was plenty of food to go around because Ingibjorg had expected both policemen and Kjartan to join them for dinner. But they were on board the coast guard ship and would be there all evening. Probably overnight, too. Bjorn Snorri Thorvald’s funeral was scheduled for eleven the next morning, after which the coast guard ship was supposed to depart in the afternoon. Johanna and Kjartan were to go with them for further questioning. The detectives were now convinced that they were responsible for Bryngeir’s death and that Johanna had also played some role in Professor Lund’s fate.
“There’s no way that Kjartan and Johanna had anything to do with this nonsense,” Ingibjorg said decisively. “I know people, and I can see it in their eyes when they’re speaking the truth.”
Grimur looked bewildered. “It is very strange, though. All the islanders have been able to account for their movements that night. And they were the only two people who were up. Not that I bring myself to believe that there’s anything bad about Johanna. And Kjartan seems like such a decent guy, too, even if he had that stroke of bad luck in his youth.”
Hogni’s mouth was full of food. He liked it.
“Mmm, maybe they found him dead and just did those things to mock him,” he said.
“No, no, no,” said Ingibjorg. “Not my Johanna.”
They finished the meal and drank coffee afterwards. The sky had cleared, and the evening sun now appeared in the west. Grimur felt somehow restless. “Come on a walk with me,” he finally said to Hogni. “I find it easier to think in the evening air. We can collect the cattle for the night while we’re at it.”
The men stepped outside and walked over the eastern slope. Thormodur Krakur was carrying water to his shed. He didn’t answer when they said good evening to them and just vanished behind the shed door with his buckets of water.
“Everyone seems to be in a somber mood this evening,” said Grimur. He looked around. “This is where Bryngeir was last seen alive,” he said, puzzled. “And it’s from here that he was going to walk across the island to visit Johanna. What route could he have taken?”
“Well,” Hogni answered, “he must have taken the road and followed it down. I walked that way with Inspector Lukas today. He was timing it and measuring the distance. It’s six hundred strides.”
One of Thormodur Krakur’s cows bellowed loudly from within the shed.
“Yes, that’s a short walk,” Grimur said. “But what did the man do when he realized Doctor Johanna wasn’t in her house?”
Hogni thought about it. “Krakur says he was trying to get someone to take him to Stykkisholmur.”
“But none of the boat owners could remember him asking to be taken over that night.”
Hogni thought again. “Maybe he went out to Ystakot and asked Valdi. He’d done it once before,” he said.
Grimur started walking. “But don’t forget the poor man drowned before he was carved,” he said. “In unsalted water. There isn’t a single drop of water in the rocks around Ystakot.”
“No, except in the barrel in Valdi’s yard.”
“Do you think Valdi might have dragged the rascal by the scruff of the neck and drowned him in the barrel of water like a kitten?”
“Nah.” Hogni was baffled. “But Valdi can be hot tempered.”
“And why should he have dragged the body to the churchyard?”
“I don’t know,” Hogni answered, feeling uneasy about taking on the role of the accuser in this reasoning.
“Let’s walk across the island and see what the Ystakot clan have to say for themselves this evening,” said Grimur. They walked down the road below the church in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. No lights shone in the doctor’s house, but when they reached the pier they saw the coast guard ship was lit up.
“Those Reykjavik people obviously don’t go to bed early,” said Grimur, but then he suddenly halted when he saw that the Ystakot boat wasn’t anchored in its place at the pier.
“Damn, they’re out at sea,” he said. “We can’t talk to them then.”
Hogni looked at the coast guard ship. “Should we step on board and talk to the police about Valdi?” he asked hesitantly.
Grimur thought it over. “No. It’s just pure conjecture on our part, and we have no proof. I want to talk to Valdi myself when he gets back.”
Hogni seemed relieved. “Then we should just go to bed,” he said.
They walked the same way back and fell into an even deeper silence. At the crossroads, Hogni said good night and walked on home to the school.
Question thirty-eight: How did Erlingur Hakonarson die? Sixth letter. Erlingur was a promising seven-year-old boy when his father Earl Hakon was fighting off an invasion from the Jomsvikings in Norway. The earl was faring very badly in the battle and eventually invoked Thorgerd Hordabrud, vowing to make a human sacrifice, offering Erlingur for this purpose. This brought about a great transformation because clouds erupted and the Jomsvikings had to struggle against a violent hailstorm that broke out over the ships. The hailstones weighed two ounces each and pelted the Jomsvikings’ faces so fiercely that they almost blinded them. They had pulled off some of their clothes during the day because of the heat, but now it grew much colder. They then realized that Thorgerd was on the earl’s side, and arrows shot out from all her fingers. Every single arrow killed someone. The answer is “sacrifice.” The sixth letter is f.