Chapter 11
By the time Bjarni and Svein landed in Orkney, they had been away for six or seven years. You would think Bjarni would be happy to learn that his magic spell had worked, that Earl Einar was dead, the young Earl, Thorfinn, now ruling Orkney. But the changes in the world at large were none compared to those in his own small ambit, at least as far as Bjarni was concerned. Frakokk, thinking him dead after all this time, had married again, a farmer from Rousay. Bjarni’s sons, now strapping youths, did not remember him, and his lands had been dispersed to others. Oddi was gone, of course, never to return to Orkney. A church had been built and all attended, and the men were not inclined to go raiding anymore. There were still Vikings who would fight, and who still went raiding in England, but 1066 was not that far off, when at the Battle of Stamford Bridge an army of Vikings under Harald Hardrada fell to the Anglo-Saxon king Harald Godwinson, who was defeated in turn at the Battle of Hastings by the Norman and a descendant of Vikings himself, William the Conqueror. The Viking Age was coming to a close.
Bjarni did what many of us would do under the circumstances. He drank himself into insensibility. The drink just made him belligerent, and he decided to trick and then kill his wife’s new husband, in order to win her and his lands back. He’d brought her silks from Constantinople and jewels from Baghdad, but she would have none of it. Bjarni tried to lure the farmer, whose name was Kali to a broch on South Ronaldsay where Thorfinn Skull-Splitter, Earl of Orkney, was said to be buried. He told Kali that he knew of treasure hidden in an ancient tomb nearby, the one known as the tomb of the orcs: gold and silver arm rings, cloak brooches, the finest of swords, and of course, there was the lure of the silver cauldron that many had seen and wondered at. That night, Bjarni armed with his Viking axe and knife, and with the silver cauldron with him for safekeeping, hid near the broch and waited for Kali to appear.
Unbenownst to Bjarni, some kin of Kali’s heard of the plot and warned the man. Kali was all for confronting Bjarni but Frakokk wouldn’t allow it, and so Kali stayed home with his eye on the door lest Bjarni, thwarted in his plan, come to get him. But Bjarni never did.
I had no trouble finding the Howe of Hoxa on my map, the place where Thorfinn Skull-Splitter is supposed to be buried. It was not that far from where I was, drying out in my little sitting room at the Alexanders. Sigurd’s grandfather had chosen the site for his castle well. If indeed there was a tomb of the orcs, then it should be nearby. Sigurd had been surprised by Kenny’s idea that the swirls on the bottom of the scroll represented a section of coastline. I thought of all the tombs into which I’d slithered with Percy and later. I could see how they would get lost in the landscape. The terrain was rolling hills, and after many thousands of years, the tombs would just be grassed over. They were still turning up. One had turned up on a dairy farm and not that long ago. There might still be a tomb of the orcs to be found.
So where was it? I looked toward the sea from my window, but the fog had rolled in, and if there were a shoreline there, you wouldn’t know it right at that moment. I left a note for Lester, and then headed out once again for The Wasteland. I wanted to be there good and early.
There was no answer to my ring at the house. There were also no barking dogs. The van was out front, so that pretty much meant they had to be home. Maybe Sigurd was having a rest. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to me, but he might if he knew why I was there. I slid a note I’d written in my room through the mail slot. It informed him that I had told the people who had the scroll to come to the house at five. I sincerely hoped Sigurd was there, and that he’d get the note very soon. It was twenty to five. There was no sign of Willow and Kenny.
I thought I could see a light in the barn through the gloom and wondered if Thor might be there. The wind was really howling as I made my way along a muddy path toward it. I pushed the door open and stepped in. The barking started the moment I touched the door handle. I stood still as Oddi and Svein circled for a moment, but they seemed to remember me, and quickly went back into the gloom. “Thor? Are you in here? It’s Lara. Remember me?” There was no sound, but I was almost certain he was hiding. I flipped a switch by the door.
Thor was nowhere to be seen. What there was to see, however, almost made me laugh out loud. It seemed to me that ever since I’d left home, when I was looking for furniture I found something about a tomb. Now I was looking for a tomb, and what had I found? Nothing less than the source of the furniture that had started this whole business! Before me was revealed a workshop, or perhaps more accurately an artist’s studio. Sketches and designs were pinned to the beams, and the wonderful smell of fresh wood permeated the space.
Looking around I realized that I, like Sir Perceval, Knight of the Round Table, had failed to ask the right question the first time I’d come. I had not asked about the writing cabinet in the photograph, so entranced had I been by Bjarni’s saga, the scroll, and the possibilities they presented. I did not ask whence the cabinet in the photograph came; I did not ask where it went. But standing here I now knew who had made it. Thor may not have had many advantages, as far as raw intelligence went, but he made some of the most beautiful furniture I have ever seen, each piece made by hand, every joint cut to fit perfectly, every surface so beautifully planed and sanded and polished it felt like silk to my touch. I had thought I had come to Orkney looking for a forger, but I had found instead a master craftsman, someone inadvertently, I was certain, drawn into the murky world of art and antiquities fraud. I had not asked if Sigurd Haraldsson knew Trevor Wylie.
Thor had been working on a beautiful piece of furniture. The specs and drawings were pinned above his workbench. He was making a Mackintosh writing cabinet. I guess he’d sold the one he’d made earlier, and he was going to make another for the house or perhaps to sell. If it weren’t for the fact that Trevor was murdered, it would have been funny.
“This is wonderful, Thor,” I said loudly, hoping he could hear me. “Yours is some of the most beautiful cabinetwork I have ever seen. You should be very proud of it.” It was possible I heard the tiniest creak in the loft. “I know Trevor Wylie liked it, too.”
Now I had another question. Where had Thor gotten the copy of the specs for the writing cabinet? The owner of the original, of course, but who would that be? An answer to all my questions was rapidly forming. I would have liked to talk to Thor, although I wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer my questions, and in any event, my heartfelt compliments met no response. “Thor,” I called out again. “I’m going up to the house to talk to your father. I have asked the people who have your family’s scroll to bring it back. They’ll be here in a few minutes. I’d really like to talk to you about your wonderful furniture later.” I looked at my watch. It was ten to five. There was still no response from Thor, although I remained convinced he was there, and when I went outside, there was no sign of Willow and Kenny either. My threat about reporting them to the police as the recipients of stolen goods had been just that, a threat. If they didn’t show up, I didn’t know what I was going to do.
I started toward the house, now thoroughly drenched and cold. I decided I was going to have to lean on the bell until Sigurd opened the door again. As I dashed through the rain, I looked down toward the shore, and in the fog thought I saw someone making their way along in front of the Alexanders’ place. I wondered if I’d been wrong about Thor being in the barn, and that instead he was out walking. Or could it be Willow or Kenny? Their motorcycle was nowhere to be seen. The figure vanished into the mist. I followed, cutting through the hedge that separated Sigurd’s place from the Alexanders‘. The shadowy figure was gone.