Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Ashes To Dust

‘Sheep and chickens?’ echoed Thóra. ‘You sent farm animals to the mainland by boat? What about the dogs and cats?’

She hadn’t thought about that. Naturally there had been other living things on the island besides people.

‘Dog ownership was forbidden at the time, but most of the cats were left behind. There was no chance to round them all up. Most of them died as the eruption went on, from the toxic fumes. The sheep, on the other hand, were sent immediately to the mainland on helicopters from the American base, while the chickens were transported by ship,’ replied Kjartan. He stopped suddenly. ‘Even though I watched my own house disappear beneath the lava, the hardest part of the eruption was when the cows from Kirkjubaer were led down to the harbour to be slaughtered. It was horrific. The farm was the first building to disappear, since the volcano was on that farmer’s land, and he was quite old and in no position to start farming again. There was no other option, but it was pitiful. Natural disasters affect animals terribly, and to make matters worse I think the cows sensed that this trip down to the harbour would be their last.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The farmer went to the mainland the next morning by plane. Everything that he owned fitted into a little box that he held in his lap the whole way.’

Thóra pushed the image out of her mind – Markus’s box was enough for her. ‘In other words, everyone abandoned the town?’ she asked.

‘Somewhere between two and three hundred men remained behind to try to salvage whatever they could. Everyone else – among them the women and children, of course – was sent to the mainland. It was God’s mercy that the fleet was in the harbour. It would not have gone so well if the boats had been out fishing, I can tell you that.’Kjartan looked out for a moment over the harbour before turning back to the two women. ‘People were piled up on board the boats and packed in everywhere they could fit. The seasickness was awful. It’s no fun to be tossed about on the waves, surrounded by the stink of fish, if you’re not used to it. Not to mention if you’re sleep-deprived and suffering from shock.’Bella obviously was listening, because out of the corner of her eye Thóra saw her grimace. ‘Were there any other boats in the harbour apart from the ones from the Westmann Islands?’ she asked. ‘Foreign vessels, for example?’

‘No, none,’ replied Kjartan immediately, glowering at her. ‘Out of the question.’

Thóra decided not to pursue this, although she had hoped that a foreign boat might have been moored there.‘Do you remember anything about Markus that night, or Alda, his girlfriend?’

‘No,’ replied Kjartan, without hesitation. He fell silent, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

‘Are you absolutely certain?’asked Thóra, surprised at the swiftness of his response. ‘He wasn’t there with his father, your friend?’

‘I must have seen his father, although I don’t specifically remember it,’ scowled Kjartan. ‘He worked on a rescue crew and was in the Islands during the days following the eruption, although I don’t recall whether I met him that night. I don’t remember the boy at all, nor Alda for that matter. There was a crowd of people there. They all had their arms piled high with whatever they had decided was most valuable at the moment they were forced to head to the harbour, the most incredible collection of things. In most cases what truly mattered was left behind; photo albums and other keepsakes were forgotten in the mad rush to save new standard lamps or other worldly goods that would soon become worthless.’

‘But are you sure you fully realize which Alda I’m talking about?’ persisted Thóra. She thought it peculiar that Kjartan hadn’t hesitated at all when she mentioned her name. Perhaps he’d heard Markus’s explanation for the severed head and had already remembered who she was. She hoped this wasn’t the case, because it would mean Markus had been very indiscreet.

‘There was only one Alda in the Islands at that time. She was the same age as Markus, and her father was one of our friends. His name was Thórgeir and he died recently. He was one of those who stayed behind to assist the rescue crews along with me and Markus’s father Magnus.’

‘Did you know Alda died this week?’asked Thóra.

‘Yes, I heard about that,’ he replied. ‘Her mother and sister still live in the Islands, and I know both of them. The whole thing is, in a word, tragic, and I don’t understand what causes people to take such desperate measures. Her mother is devastated, understandably.’ Kjartan glanced very quickly out over the harbour before continuing. He seemed to wish to change the subject, clearly finding it difficult to talk about sensitive issues, like so many men of his generation. ‘But I don’t remember either Alda or Markus being there that night. Try to imagine five thousand people milling about out here. It was utter bedlam, and there was no time to talk to shocked teenagers.’

‘Markus said that he’d been evacuated to the mainland on the same boat as Alda, and that they’d spoken on board,’ said Thóra. ‘Is it possible to verify this? In other words, are there records of who went on which boat to the mainland that night?’

Kjartan shrugged. ‘I simply don’t know. The Red Cross took down the names of those who landed and arranged for people to be sent to Reykjavik from Thórlakshofn. I think they also recorded which people were taken in by relatives and so on. Whether the records say which ships people travelled on I don’t know, and if they did who’s to say if such papers were even preserved?’

‘They’re probably in the National Archive,’ cried Bella, suddenly. She blushed slightly when Thóra and Kjartan looked at her in surprise. They had both forgotten her.‘That’s where I would put them, anyway,’ she added, before abruptly shutting up.

‘There’s also an archive here in town,’ said Kjartan. ‘On the first floor of the library. They might have those papers there.’

‘If not, then they’re probably in the National Archive, as you suggested, Bella,’ said Thóra, pleased with her secretary’s interest. This was a possible assignment for the girl while they were here, she thought. Bella could search for the documents in the town’s archive and dig through them until she found Markus and Alda’s names. If they didn’t show up in the search, Bella could continue in Reykjavik later. There was a lot at stake, because although such documents would not suffice in themselves to clear Markus of all suspicion, they would at least provide some support to his story. He had told Alda on the ship that the box had been left behind in the basement, and since Alda was no longer living, Markus was in dire need of anything, no matter how small, to help support his statement. Thóra turned to Kjartan. ‘The men who remained behind to do the rescue work,’ she said, ‘could they travel between the Islands freely, or was there some sort of system in place?’

Kjartan shook his head. ‘For the first two or three days there was no organization at all. People just worked like mad on their own initiative, salvaging what they could. And then it changed and started becoming more orderly. Although attempts were made to control the operations, it was actually nature that controlled everything according to its whims. It also wasn’t long before more rescue crews came from the mainland, but unfortunately I don’t have any precise numbers available on their size or how they were organized. I do recall that there were three or four hundred people here at the height of the rescue operation.’ Kjartan looked Thóra in the eye. ‘If you’re asking whether any of them could have gone into the house and put the bodies there, or killed those people in the basement, the answer is absolutely yes. It wouldn’t have been at all difficult. The houses that they’re digging up now weren’t immediately buried by ash – at least two weeks passed from the start of the eruption until the ash covered them. I wouldn’t have wanted to enter them myself at that point because they were so close to the vent, but someone may well have been desperate enough to take the risk. About four hundred houses were covered by lava and obviously those couldn’t be saved. That row of houses, on the other hand, was buried under ash, which doesn’t have the same destructive power as molten rock. If I’d been hiding bodies I would have put them in houses that clearly would have been covered by lava, but of course that would have taken an enormous amount of courage. Lava doesn’t flow that quickly, but there are few sights more terrifying. It doesn’t spare anything. And it wasn’t just the burning lava that would have held most people back, but also the toxic gases it produced.’