‘I don’t have any feelings, really — I don’t give it much thought.’
‘So it doesn’t make you angry?’
‘No. It has nothing to do with me. I can’t understand why you’re bringing it up. Of course... of course it’s an odd state of affairs and I know lots of people are unhappy about it, but I don’t give it a moment’s thought. It really doesn’t interest me. So, as I said, I really don’t understand the point of the question.’
‘Did you meet Rósamunda on one of your birdwatching trips?’
‘I’ve told you over and over again — I never met her.’
‘Not long before she died, she told someone that she’d been attacked and raped,’ said Thorson. ‘Her attacker told her to blame it on the huldufólk. Can you imagine why he would have ordered her to give such an outlandish explanation?’
‘No.’
‘You’ve gone out of your way to study tales of the hidden people. Why on earth do you suppose this man would have brought them up?’
‘I haven’t a clue. I didn’t know the girl. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You didn’t know her?’
‘No.’
‘Did you rape her?’
‘No. I... you...’
‘Did you put pressure on her to get rid of the baby?’
Jónatan was speechless.
‘Did you assault her, then order her to invent some tale about being attacked by the elves or she’d be sorry?’
‘No!’
‘You used the same method three years ago on Hrund, didn’t you?’
‘No.’
‘You forced yourself on her, then told her to blame it on the huldufólk.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Can you tell us where Hrund is?’ asked Flóvent.
‘Where she is?’
‘Yes.’
‘How am I supposed to know that? I never touched her.’
‘Did you have any contact with her after she claimed she’d been attacked?’
‘No. I’ve told you, I barely knew her. I only ran into her a few times at the petrol station.’
‘You knew Rósamunda from the dressmaker’s, of course.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘You took your trousers there to be mended.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t know anyone there. Lots of people take their trousers to be mended there. I’m not the only one.’
‘You could have struck up an acquaintance with her like you did with Hrund, without anyone else knowing. You trusted the girls to keep quiet.’
‘The only one I met was Hrund — we’d chat from time to time, as I’ve told you repeatedly. But I wasn’t acquainted with this Rósamunda at all. Why can’t you get that into your heads? This is all a serious misunderstanding, and while you’re sorting it out, I’d be grateful if you’d let me go home.’
‘It would be a great comfort to her family if you could tell us where you think Hrund’s body is,’ said Flóvent.
‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? I never touched her. Ever. Look, I’ve got to get out of here. I’m not feeling well. You can’t keep me here. I’m finding this whole business terribly upsetting and utterly incomprehensible. It’s incomprehensible that you would even think I’d be capable of harming another person. Killing someone. It’s... I just don’t understand how such an idea could enter your head.’
‘Perhaps you should wait for the lawyer,’ said Flóvent. ‘A lawyer would help you understand what will happen next.’
‘I don’t want a lawyer. I just want you to stop this. I want to go home. I’m missing my lectures. This is absurd. It’s complete madness.’
Flóvent now took out the pages he had found in Jónatan’s room and placed them on the table in front of him. Thorson was already familiar with their contents. Jónatan stared at the pages, his face suddenly blank.
‘Are these yours?’ asked Flóvent.
Jónatan didn’t answer.
‘Is this your handwriting?’
‘Yes,’ said Jónatan. ‘It’s my handwriting. Where did you get them?’
‘From your room,’ said Flóvent. ‘Then you know what these pages contain?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Jónatan. ‘I’m collecting material for my thesis. You mean you actually took these from my room?’
‘This account is taken from old court records, isn’t it?’ said Flóvent.
‘Yes.’
‘I looked up the case. You’ve copied it down almost word for word.’
‘Of course I have. It’s a source.’
‘Would you care to tell us what the trial was about?’
‘You ought to know if you’ve read it,’ said Jónatan.
‘It’s a rape case,’ said Flóvent.
‘Yes.’
‘Involving a young girl and a farm labourer.’
‘Yes.’
‘The circumstances of the case were highly unusual, to say the least. And strangely relevant to our present investigation.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Would you like me to refresh your memory?’ asked Flóvent.
‘Do what you like. What you do is your affair. I want you to let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m innocent.’
Flóvent studied Jónatan in silence for a moment, then began to summarise the student’s notes. The court case dated from the early nineteenth century and involved a young woman, a servant on a farm in the south-west of Iceland, who had grown up with stories of the elves; she had even learnt to identify the local rocks and knolls reputed to be their dwelling places. Once she was dispatched on an errand to another farm some distance away, and as she was coming home towards evening she met a labourer from a neighbouring farm. Their paths crossed near a mound where the hidden people were said to dwell. She was already acquainted with the labourer, who had tried to court her in the past, so when he began to make advances, trying to fondle her and saying he wanted to lie with her, she steadfastly rejected him. When she tried to continue on her way, however, the man seized hold of her, intending to have her in spite of her refusal. A violent struggle ensued. She received several wounds to her face and body and her clothes were torn off before eventually he succeeded in forcing himself on her. The labourer then threatened that she’d be sorry if she reported him — saying he could easily kill her — and when she asked how she was to explain the state she was in, he glanced up at the mound and said that she could blame it on the huldufólk. Afterwards the girl went home and did as the man told her. Some believed her while others did not, among them her own mother, who eventually got the truth out of her. In the end the young woman pressed charges against the labourer, who confessed to the crime and duly received his punishment.
‘Have I got the story right?’ asked Flóvent when he had finished.
‘That’s just one aspect of my research,’ said Jónatan. ‘The various forms folk beliefs can take. It’s the record of a case I found particularly intriguing.’
‘So it didn’t give you any ideas?’
‘Good God, no. I don’t understand... I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. This is ludicrous.’
‘So you didn’t tell Hrund to blame it on the huldufólk like the assailant in the historical case?’
‘No,’ said Jónatan. ‘I did nothing of the sort.’
‘And you didn’t repeat the whole thing with Rósamunda?’
‘No, this is utter nonsense.’
‘Are you telling me that the idea didn’t come from this case?’ asked Flóvent, waving the pages at him.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Jónatan. ‘You’re confusing me. I just want to go home.’
‘This is exactly the same kind of incident as the ones we’re investigating,’ said Flóvent, ‘and we find an account of it in your room. Coincidence? Is that what you’re claiming?’