Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

Thora thanked the woman and she and Matthew walked off to their rooms. As they turned the corner in the corridor, the woman called after them: "I see here that he borrowed a flashlight from reception."

Thora turned back. "A flashlight?" she asked. "Does it say what for?"

"No," the woman replied. "It was just noted to make sure he returned it when he checked out. Which he did."

"Can you see whether this was in the middle of the night?" Thora asked. Maybe Harald wanted to look for something he dropped in the driveway.

"No, the day shift lent him the light," the woman replied. "Excuse my curiosity, but isn't that the name of the foreign student who was murdered at the university?"

Thora said it was and thanked her again for her help. She and Matthew proceeded to their rooms, which turned out to be side by side.

"Should we rest for half an hour or so?" Thora asked when she looked inside the nicely furnished room. The big bed was tempting and aroused an urge within her to stretch out for a whilethe quilts were big and thick and the linen looked ironed. It was not a sight Thora saw every day. Her own bed normally greeted her at night in the same state of chaos she left it in when she rushed off to work in the mornings.

"Sure, we're not in any hurry," Matthew repliedclearly with the same idea. "Just knock when you're ready. And remember, you're always welcome to drop in on me." He winked and closed the door before Thora could respond.

After putting down her belongings and peeping into the bathroom and at the minibar, Thora flopped back onto the bed. She lay with her arms in a crucifixion position and relished the moment. It didn't last long, howevera ring tone came from her handbag. With a groan she sat up and took out her phone.

"Hi, Mom," said her daughter Soley cheerfully.

"Hello, sweetie," said Thora, glad to hear her voice. "What are you up to?"

"Oh," she said, slightly less cheerfully. "We're on our way to the stables." Then she whispered so softly that Thora had trouble making out the words, especially since her daughter seemed to have pressed her mouth right up against the phone to avoid being heard. Her voice came out muffled. "I don't want to go at all. Those horses are nasty."

"Hey!" said Thora, trying to pep up her daughter. "They're not nasty; horses are really kind actually. It'll be fun for youisn't the weather nice?"

"Gylfi doesn't want to either," Soley whispered. "He says horses are old-fashioned and outdated."

"Tell me something fun: what did you do today?" asked Thora, well aware that she was not the best advocate for horses.

Her daughter brightened up. "We had ice cream and watched cartoons. It was real fun. Hey, Gylfi wants to talk to you."

Before Thora managed to say good-bye to Soley, her son was already on the phone. "Hi," he said glumly.

"Hello, sweetheart," replied Thora. "How are things?"

"Useless." Gylfi did not even try to whisperif anything, Thora thought he raised his voice.

"Oh, is it the horses?" she asked.

"Yes and no. Just everything." After a short pause he added: "I need to have a little talk with you when I get back tomorrow."

"By all means, darling," Thora replied, not knowing whether to feel happy that he was opening up at last or afraid about what he would say. "I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow night." When the call was over she made another attempt to take a napin vain. In the end she got up and took a hot shower.

While she was drying herself with the thick, snow-white towels, Thora noticed a guide to the local tourist attractions. She browsed for places that might have appealed to Harald. There was plenty to choose from but few possible links with the case. Three places did catch Thora's attention, however. The see of Skalholt received a two-page spread and had a clear connection with Harald through his interest in the bishops Jon Arason and Brynjolfur Sveinsson. Two other sights were possible candidates, as well: Mount Hekla and some caves from the days of Irish monks at Aegissida on the outskirts of Hella. What surprised her most was that she was fairly sure she had never heard of them before. Thora wondered whether the name Hella was from the same root as hellir, the Icelandic word for "cave." She folded down the corners of the pages describing these three places. Then she dressed, taking care to put on warm clothesand plenty of themeven though they weren't exactly attractive. If they were going to stroll around some caves, it would help to be dressed for the task. In her mind's eye she saw Matthew clambering over boulders in his dancing shoes. Out of sheer spite she decided not to tell him about the caves until they had left the hotel. Besides, it was going to be dark out soon, and Thora figured he'd be more likely to give in if she sprang the idea on him last minute. She put her hair in a ponytail, slipped on her coat, and left the room.

No sooner had her knuckles left the door than Matthew opened it. Thora smirked when she saw his clothes. "That's a nice suit," she said in a jolly tone. "And nice shoes." Judging from the well-polished leather, his shoes must have cost a pretty penny, and Thora stifled a momentary pang of conscience about not warning him. He was bound to own plenty of other pairs.

"It isn't a suit," Matthew said tetchily. "It's a sports jacket and trousers. There's a difference. Not that you're likely to realize."

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Kate Moss," teased Thora, now quite at ease with her conscience, and the pending mistreatment of his footwear.

Without answering, Matthew closed the door behind him and jiggled the keys to the Jeep in his hand. "Well, where to?"

Thora took her phone from her coat pocket to look at the time. "I suppose it's best to start at Skalholt. It's almost four and we'll see from there."

"Fine, Madam Guide," Matthew said, scrutinizing her getup. "You know there's a restaurant at the hotel, don't you? We don't actually have to go out to hunt for our dinner."

"Ha-ha," Thora said. "I'd rather be warm and cozy than worry about looking cool. Though you might end up cool in more than one sense of the word, dressed like that in this weather."

When they reached Skalholt it was beginning to get dark. The church was open and they hurried inside and began looking for someone to talk to. Soon they found a young man who greeted them and asked if he could help. They explained they were hoping to meet someone who might have spoken to their friend some time before. They described Harald's appearance.

"Hey," the young man said when Thora was halfway through an account of the studs along Harald's right eyebrow. "Aren't you talking about that student who was murdered? I met him!"

"You wouldn't happen to remember his reason for coming here?" asked Thora, smiling encouragingly.

"Let's seeif I remember correctly he wanted to talk about Jon Arason and his execution. Yes, and Brynjolfur Sveinsson." He looked at them and hastened to add: "There's nothing unusual about thata lot of our visitors have heard their stories and want to find out more. They're tragic but do have a macabre attraction. People are particularly interested in the fact that it took seven blows of the axe to behead Jon Arason. His head was literally split from his body."

"Was he just wondering about these bishops in general terms?" Thora asked. "Or was he interested in anything special connected with them?"

The young man turned to Matthew and switched to English. "I don't know how familiar you are with the story of Jon Arason."

Realizing this remark was intended for him, Matthew answered: "I know as much about him as I do about his mother. In other words: nothing."

"Oh, I see." The man sounded almost shocked. "To cut a long story short, Jon Arason was the last Catholic bishop of Iceland. He was bishop of Holar from 1524 and controlled Skalholt for a while as well. He was beheaded here in Skalholt in 1550, thirteen years after King Christian III of Denmark abolished Catholicism in Iceland and other parts of his realm. Jon Arason tried to prevent the Reformation and led a revolt against the new Lutheran faith, but he failed and ended up with his head on the block. The execution was a separate story because two weeks before, Jon had been granted immunity until the next parliament convened to discuss his case and that of his two sons. They were executed too."