The Flatey Enigma by Viktor Arnar Ingólfsson Read Free Book Online

words are written at the beginning of the Flatey Book and were copied in that note. It’s actually quite peculiar that the only person who inscribed this book was the person who allowed it to leave the family.”
    Thormódur Krákur gesticulated to add emphasis to his story.
    “And the Flatey Book is now with the king in Copenhagen,” said Grímur. “So this was hardly copied from the original source.”
    “What could have been the purpose of copying that text down on a piece of paper?” Kjartan asked. “And what does folio 1005 mean?”
    The others looked at each other, but no one had an answer. Finally Grímur said, “Sometimes tourists who’ve read some of the Flatey Book come here and want to find out about the making and history of the manuscript.”
    “And who’s the person who can tell them about it?” Kjartan asked.
    “Various people here and there,” said Grímur. “Most of the islanders can recount some of the sagas if they’re asked. Sigurbjörn in Svalbard is pretty well read and often quotes the book, although Reverend Hannes speaks better Danish and talks to the foreigners.”
    As the men were chatting to each other, Jóhanna slipped out of her plastic coat and packed it back into her bag. Then she took Kjartan’s notes.
    “I’ll copy these and bring them back to you tomorrow,” she said before walking away without saying good-bye.
    Thormódur Krákur turned the key in the lock of the church door and then vigorously shook the handle to convince himself that the door was definitely locked.
    “No one goes in here without me, and no one goes out except in God’s name,” he said, drawing a cross in front of the door with his hand before sticking the key into his pocket. “Isn’t that enough for this evening then, District Officer?”
    “Yes. Thanks for all your help,” said Grímur.
    The deacon grabbed the cart and pushed it down the slope, allowing it to roll in front of him until he reached level ground, and then he turned it around again. He paused a moment and started to spin, first making three clockwise circles and then making three counterclockwise ones, blessing himself after each circle. Then, dragging the cart behind him, he headed home.
    “He doesn’t want any impure spirits to follow him home to his cottage tonight,” Högni said with a smile.
    “He’s a bit special and holds some unconventional beliefs,” Grímur explained to Kjartan.
    “He’s also a bit of a psychic,” Högni added.
    “In what way psychic?” Kjartan asked.
    Grímur answered: “Krákur can catch glimpses of the supernatural, although he’s useless when he’s really needed.” He smiled.
    “A normal medium wouldn’t have any problems communicating with that dead man in the box in there,” Högni added. “For example, there was a man from a farm in Kjálkafjördur who could never shut up at funerals. He was always talking to ghosts.”
    Kjartan forced an awkward smile. “I don’t expect the case to be solved that way,” he said. And then, just to change subject, he asked, “Does Thormódur Krákur live off his eiderdown work?”
    “Yes,” Grímur answered, “and the odd little job here and there. He has two cows and makes hay for them in the patch of field behind my land. He can sell the milk. He also works in the slaughterhouse in the autumn and has rights to collect eiderdown and eggs on some of the islets up here to the north. But he farms out those rights to others and gets eiderdown in return. He had a shock when he was young, and he’s been terrified of the sea ever since.” Grímur gazed at the church door. “Plus he’s incredibly superstitious,” he added.
    “What kind of shock?” Kjartan asked.
    “Krákur was reared by a farmer on the island,” Grímur answered, “and was considered to be a bit of a wild one and a boozer, so the farmer decided to teach him a lesson one day when they were out at sea and sent him up a crag to knock out a seal pup. But they didn’t wait