‘There is something up there,’ Kagan said, pointing. Eddie moved the beam to find the remains of a large bird near the top of the dirt pile.
‘It is an eagle,’ said Tova, dismayed. ‘It must have come in through a hole looking for food, and been trapped.’
Nina felt brief sympathy for the majestic predator, but it was not the only thing caught in the tunnels. ‘We’ll have to go back. Come on.’
They quickly retraced their steps. Eddie glanced towards the entrance. The mercenaries had wisely decided not to try to force open the doors again, but he knew that Hoyt’s next attempt would involve explosives. ‘We’ll need to snap off some of those roots so we can get through,’ he said as they continued. ‘Kagan, give me a hand. Berkeley, you can make yourself useful too.’
‘Why should I help you?’ the American whined.
‘’Cause I’ll beat the shit out of you if you don’t.’
Berkeley blanched. ‘Since you put it like that…’
Tova took Eddie’s torch as the three men reached the roots. Berkeley broke off a few smaller branches, while Eddie and Kagan concentrated on one of the larger limbs. They both had to strain, but with a splintering crack it broke away. The gap it left was not wide, but Eddie was able to squeeze through to yank at the thinner obstructions beyond. He tossed the broken roots aside and hunched lower. More dried talons scratched at him as he forced his way past, but he was soon through. ‘There’s another corner,’ he announced, illuminating the passage beyond as Nina started to follow. A short walk to the left turn, and: ‘This way’s clear.’
‘Can you see anything?’ she called.
‘Looks like more rooms and tunnels off to the side. This place’d better not be some sort of maze.’
Tova sounded uncomfortable, and not solely because she was pushing through the roots behind Nina. ‘Some of the descriptions of Valhalla say it is surrounded by a labyrinth.’
‘Hopefully not the euhemeristic ones,’ said Nina, joining her husband. Tova emerged, followed by Berkeley and finally Kagan. The Russian was about to continue down the passage, but Nina held up a hand. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ Distant shouts came from the entrance; from their tone not pain or warnings, but orders.
‘Then we’d better shift,’ said Eddie, setting off. ‘Tova, where’s the route to the eitr pits most likely to be?’
‘At the centre,’ she said. ‘If Valhalla was built like a traditional Viking hall, its ceiling would be highest there. The main hall has a ceremonial function; that is where it will be.’
‘So it’ll be on our left,’ said Nina. The left wall of the long tunnel appeared unbroken, in contrast to the several exits on the right. At its far end was another T-junction. ‘And we know how big the barrow is, so… it’s got to be round that next corner.’
They hurried down the passage. Nina was first to reach the turn, going left. ‘This must be it!’ she cried.
‘Yes, it has to be,’ Tova gasped in agreement. Berkeley was equally impressed.
About forty feet away, another tunnel heading east intersected the one they had entered. Facing it in the left wall was a set of large double doors, framed by elaborately carved oaken pillars. Other doorways on the opposite side of the passage led into more small rooms, but the group ignored them as they made their way to the majestic entrance.
Eddie looked down the broad eastern passage. ‘They closed that off deliberately,’ he said, playing his torch beam over a sturdy barricade blocking the tunnel. More roots had wormed through the ceiling beams, loose earth piled at the barrier’s foot.
‘That would have been the main entrance,’ said Tova. ‘They must have closed it up when they buried the hall, so the only way in was through the death-barrier.’
‘And the only way to get through that without being killed was with the compasses,’ added Nina, holding up the two discs. ‘They wanted to make sure that only people they considered worthy — true Viking warriors on their way to Ragnarök — could get in.’
‘So does that make us Vikings?’ Eddie asked with a grin as they reached the doors. ‘I mean, you have got red hair…’
Nina smiled back, then examined the carvings. ‘These are beautiful,’ she said, admiring the workmanship. Intertwining patterns of leaves, branches and what appeared to be snakes — or a snake, singular, she realised as she followed the seemingly endless curves of the stylised reptile’s body — ran up the pillars. Above the doors, the lintel was decorated with representations of horsemen, longships — and at the very centre, a face. A bearded man, features partially concealed behind his helmet’s faceguard.
Tova saw it too. ‘Is that… could that be Odin?’
‘I think it could be,’ Nina replied. The stern visage, a deep scar running down over one closed eye, glowered down at them as if challenging them to enter the room beyond.
Berkeley had momentarily forgotten his status as a prisoner. ‘There’s much more detail than I would have expected,’ he opined. ‘And the helmet seems like a more elaborate version of the Ringerike find, so yes, undoubtedly someone of very high status. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr Skilfinger?’
‘Yes, yes, I…’ Tova began, before trailing off and giving him an odd look. Nina also shot him a disapproving glare.
‘Okay, so it’s a nice antique,’ Eddie said impatiently. ‘But is it likely to be booby-trapped?’
‘I would not think so,’ said Tova. ‘The death-barrier was the trap — anyone who passed it would be assumed to be a warrior, and so worthy to enter.’
All the same, the Englishman shooed the others back and lifted the corroded iron latch at arm’s length. But there was no rattle of deadly mechanisms from the other side. He cautiously opened the door. His torch revealed shapes in the darkness beyond, faint glints of metal reflecting back, but nothing moved. ‘Odin sesame…’ he said, pushing harder.
The oak door swung wider, revealing the chamber beyond.
The great hall of Valhalla.
Nina and Eddie panned their lights around the room as they entered, the others close behind. As Tova had suggested, the vaulted ceiling was high, a good forty feet above the floor at its peak. But unlike the passages outside, there was more to the roof than simple dark wooden beams. ‘Wow!’ Nina said, awed, as her flashlight beam was reflected back at her with a much warmer tint. ‘Look at that.’
‘Amazing!’ Berkeley said, staring in wonder. The entire ceiling was covered by overlapping golden plates, the effect resembling a snake’s scales. Each plate was at least four feet in length and nearly as wide.
‘It is as the poem Grímnismál described it,’ Tova told them, wide-eyed in wonderment. ‘A roof made of golden shields — and look! The rafters are like the shafts of spears.’ Unlike the squared-off, axe-cut beams in the tunnels, these had been carved into more rounded cross-sections.
Eddie lowered his torch to illuminate tables and benches, the source of the metal gleams draped over them. ‘Looks like chainmail,’ he said, going to the nearest table.
Tova joined him. ‘They are called byrnies — shirts of chain armour. Also just like Grímnismál!’
Kagan moved deeper into the room, but almost stumbled over something. Nina shone her light down at his feet. ‘Good thing you didn’t kick it too hard, or you might have needed a tetanus shot.’ The obstruction was a large double-bladed axe, the head speckled with rust.