The Orkney Scroll (22 page)

“I understand your feelings, Oddi,” Bjarni said. “And were I in your position I believe I would do the same. But I have a wife and sons in Orkney that I would like to see again. I’m told there are men of the North farther east, and it is my plan to find them. Perhaps I’ll find a ship making its way back, or a party going overland at least part of the way. So I’ll be off and wish you and Goisvintha good fortune.”

“If you’re back this way,” said Oddi. “I’ll be very pleased to see you.” And that, as they say, was that. Now laden with supplies and gifts from their generous host, Bjarni and Svein alone of the sixty or so who had sailed from Orkney, journeyed on.

Bjarni intended to go home, he really did, but he didn’t get the name the Wanderer for nothing. As planned, he and Svein met up with a group of Northmen in what is now southern France. But these men were not for going back to Orkney or Norway. They told tales of fabulous riches, silks, wine, spices, and jewels to be found in a place called
Mikligardr,
or Great City, more wonderful still than Cordoba. Frakokk and his sons forgotten, Bjarni threw in his lot with the others, and headed for Mikligardr, known also as Constantinople, the heart of the Byzantine Empire.

It took almost a year to get there, with all of the trading and raiding to be done, but having reached Mikligardr, Bjarni was quite taken by the glories of the Byzantine Empire and decided to join the Varangian Guard.
Varangian
is an Old Norse word meaning “sharers of an oath,” and the Varangians were Vikings, most of them from Russia, although other Vikings joined, too. While Vikings had once been a threat to Constantinople, as they were everywhere they went, by Bjarni’s time that had changed. The Varangian guards were troops loyal to the emperor, guarding the palace and the armories. They were mercenaries, of course, and the pay was exceedingly good, too, with plenty of opportunity to acquire loot on the side, and so Bjarni signed up. Bjarni, it seems, was accepted by the others, being a good man with the two-handed Viking axe.

The guard was paid but once a year, and Bjarni and Svein stayed around to collect thrice. With the pay, and his other Viking activities, Bjarni accumulated quite a fortune. He also acquired some relics. A pagan to the end, despite the fact he served the Christian emperor, he nonetheless adopted the habit of his friends in the Varangian guard, and acquired a piece of the True Cross, which he kept in a purse at his side. Still, while other guards wore a small cross around their necks, Bjarni wore the hammer of Thor. Bjarni, one might say, was hedging his bets.

Svein the Wiry wanted to go home now, and so, in many ways, did Bjarni. The problem was, they had no way of knowing whether or not Einar was still in control of Orkney. Svein suggested a spell might work and had an idea. He’d heard-tell of Vikings going to Jerusalem and swimming across the river Jordan in order to make a spell, so that’s what the two men did. This was several decades before the First Crusade, you understand, of 1099, and the Fatmids, who were reasonably tolerant toward other faiths had begun to reestablish control. Bjarni, as he intended, swam across the Jordan, and upon reaching the other side, tied the brush on the river bank into a magic knot, reciting a spell as he did so. The spell was to ensure that his enemy Earl Einar would be dead by the time Bjarni got back to Orkney. That accomplished, Bjarni agreed to turn toward home.

At some point over the next eighteen hours, Maya’s lovely necklace disappeared. Police were called. There was evidence of a break-in. A couple of pairs of Robert’s cufflinks and a diamond bracelet of Maya’s also went missing at the same time. Lester, Simon, and I lost nothing, possibly because we didn’t have anything worth stealing.

I don’t think Maya suspected me of the crime, but I’m certain Robert was not as convinced of my innocence. The police, having reconstructed the event, believed that someone had been watching the house. Timing was carefully studied. We had all helped ourselves to whatever breakfast we wanted. Simon left the house first to go off to his consulting work. I went shortly after that, to follow Willow and Kenny again, although I would never admit that. Sightseeing is what I called it. Around eleven, Lester drove into Kirkwall to look for antiques, and Maya had also gone into Kirkwall to do some grocery shopping. Robert, the last to leave, had taken off just before noon to do whatever rich men do when they are ostensibly on vacation.

Maya was back before 1 PM, and from then on there was always someone in the house. It was not until later that the robbery was detected. Drever, who’d come and gone a few times during the day, discovered signs of a break-in at the back, but he’d pretty much tramped all over any evidence before he noticed it. He did, however, raise the alarm. Robert discovered his missing cufflinks, and then Maya realized the necklace was gone.

Allowing for a few minutes leeway in the time everyone came and went, there was an interval of less than an hour when the house was empty. Maya was convinced it was the people in the derelict house across the way. “It’s that man,” she whispered to me. “The one I told you about, the weird one. They have a perfect view of this house.”

The police, in the person of Detective Cusiter, who gave me a pained look when he saw me, didn’t think so. The elderly resident was in a wheelchair, and completely incapable of the crime, and he in turn swore the other man, the one that frightened Maya, had been with him all day. He said neither had seen anything untoward at the Alexander house. It seemed to me that I was the most likely suspect as far as Cusiter was concerned. He interviewed me for some time about where I had been. I had no alibi for that one hour period. “You do find yourself in the immediate proximity of criminal events on a regular basis,” was all he said when we were done.

Maya cried, of course. The rest of us went around looking somber and whispering to each other. “I have a weakness for cufflinks,” Simon Spence said. “I hope they don’t think I needed an extra pair or two and helped myself.”

“You may recall when we left dinner last night, I was trying on the necklace,” I said. “If anyone is a suspect, I’m it. I’m afraid I even have a key to the place.”

“We all do,” Lester said. “I’m an antique dealer. I could have stolen that necklace to sell. It’s worth something, you know. Actually I suppose you do know, Lara.”

“Yes.” Did I detect a note of suspicion in his voice on that last note? I didn’t mention that Maya thought it was worth considerably more than it was. Lester would have flipped if he knew there was a possibility that Robert paid a hundred grand for it. As a regular adviser on antiques to the Alexanders, Lester might have taken that personally. I would have. Then again, maybe he’d sold it to Robert at the inflated price, which wouldn’t speak well of him.

The person who seemed to have made up his mind about the identity of the thief was Drever the Intimidating, and the person he made pretty clear he thought was the culprit was a certain antique dealer from Toronto. Every time I turned around he was eying me with suspicion, and from that moment on, he dogged my every step.

In the middle of all this drama, Clive called. His tone was the one usually reserved for imparting juicy gossip and this time was no exception. I knew it was going to be good, too, because it had to be after midnight his time. “You aren’t going to believe this, Lara,” he began.

Right now I wasn’t inclined to believe anyone or anything, but I didn’t say so. “Try me, Clive,” was what I said.

“Blair Bazillionaire is out of jail!”

“You’re kidding. Did he make bail after all this time?”

“Not bail. He’s out, a free man. They’ve dropped the charges!” He paused, waiting for me to beg for details. I begged. “He has an alibi. Someone came forward at this late date and provided it. Guess why this person didn’t show up until now.”

“I don’t know. Married woman, maybe?”

“Bingo! You got it in one. Married woman comes forward, says the reason she didn’t speak until now was because she was afraid of her husband and didn’t think the charge was really going to stick, and anyway she was too embarrassed for reasons I will get to in a minute. Now she realizes she has to do what she has to do, no matter the cost, et cetera, et cetera. Rob says that’s why Blair has been ragging the puck, firing his lawyer, and starting anew. He was stalling for time and probably sending secret emissaries to this woman to convince her to confess. Now, bonus points for guessing the name of the woman in question.”

“I have no idea.”

“Oh, come on, Lara. Get into the spirit of this.”

“Camilla Parker Bowles?” I said.

Clive sniggered. “Try harder. I’ll give you a really big clue. Ready? She’s married to Blair’s new lawyer!”

I was momentarily confused. “You don’t mean Leanna Crane!”

“But I do. Don’t you just love it? Blair Bazillionaire was boinking Leanna the Lush, his lawyer’s wife. Dez played squash with the boys every Tuesday night, and Leanna had another type of sport she participated in at the same time. Trevor was, if you recall, killed on a Tuesday. I’m really glad the unhappy couple has paid their bill for all that work we did for them, because they’re going to be in divorce court forever. And I mean, forever! What was Blair thinking, retaining Dez? What did Leanna the Lush have to say when her husband came home to tell her about his new client? I tell you, rich people are not like the rest of us.”

“Oh,” I said. I could hardly believe my ears.

“Oh? Is that the best you can do? Can you not imagine the jokes in the hallowed halls of justice? The only people who aren’t enjoying this are people like Rob, who’s ticked that Blair got off. There isn’t a police officer in the western hemisphere who likes Blair, but even Rob had to laugh. Dez recused himself or whatever the correct legal term is. Anyway, he quit, not that it mattered anymore. It’s just too rich, I have to tell you. The whole town is abuzz. Now the police have issued a warrant for some guy called Dog or something, if it’s possible anybody could be named that. He’s wanted in connection with the death of Trevor Wylie, is the way the papers have put it.”

“I know who that is. His name is Douglas, something or other, Sykes, if I remember correctly, and he always walks around with his Doberman.”

“Hence, Dog,” Clive said. “I see. You do know interesting people. Rob says you’re to come home, by the way.”

“I will, as soon as they let me.”

“That reminds me, I’m supposed to get the name of the policeman who is working that case you’re involved in. He wants to have a chat with him, brother to brother, you know. See if he can get you out of there, promising that you would return, if necessary, if they really have no reason to hold you. They don’t have a good reason, do they?”

“Clive!”

“Okay, relax. What’s the guy’s name?”

“It’s Cusiter.” I had to spell it.

“What kind of a name is that?”

“Common in these parts apparently. He’s here now. There’s been a robbery.”

“Everywhere you go there’s something,” Clive said.

I could hardly argue with that, but I was feeling rather odd. Blair’s getting out of prison was the best news I’d had for a while, and up to that point, it would have been a spectacularly unsuccessful day. Much to my annoyance, Kenny and Willow once again seemed to have done exactly what they said they would, which is to say, take the day off. I followed them into Stromness where they took a midmorning ferry, a nice little boat named the
MV Graemsay,
which I discovered upon asking, went to the island of Hoy. They had hiking boots, carried backpacks, and stopped to buy crab sandwiches and water in a little shop near the pier. The ferry was very small, and there was no way I could be on it without their noticing, and the return ferry wasn’t until about five o’clock that afternoon. I decided I was just going to have to let them go. If I’d gone, I would have had an alibi, but I wasn’t equipped for a hike at that moment, so could hardly argue another coincidence. I’d wandered around Stromness for an hour or two, wondering what it was I could believe and what I couldn’t before heading back to St. Margaret’s Hope. I did see Drever, as a matter of fact. He drove up to the pier, apparently to meet a boat that came in. He unloaded some cargo from the back of his truck, watched it being loaded on the boat, and then took off. He and Simon that I was going out, and then drove along the relatively short distance to the old house.

It was more than a little intimidating. Dodging debris of various sorts, I went up to the door. It took me a second or two to get up the courage to ring the bell. When I did, dogs, presumably the ones Maya found frightening, started to bark loudly within. There was a pause before a rather imposing voice, through a speaker I hadn’t noticed, said, “Speak!”

I spoke. “Hello. I’m wondering if I might speak to you.”

“About what?”

“Um, well, about the man who died in the bunker you can almost see from here.”

“Go away!” the voice said. There was a click. I believe I had been cut off.

I rang again. There was no response. I stuck my finger on the bell and held it there. I could hear it ringing and ringing inside. The dogs were going crazy. I would have found that intensely irritating and I hoped the man or men inside would, too.

“What?” the voice finally said.

“Before he went mad, Bjarni the Wanderer hid the chalice in the tomb of the orcs,” I said rather loudly and right into the speaker. I could hear my voice through the door. There was a long pause. My finger was poised to hit the button again when a buzzer sounded, there was a click, and the door slowly swung open. I stepped into a dark hall.

It took my eyes a minute to adjust, and when they did, I took in an elderly man in a wheelchair staring at me. Beside him stood a man of about fifty or sixty, the man I’d seen helping with the wheelchair. I supposed this was “that man,” the weird one Maya so distrusted. He was holding on to two dogs still barking.

“Who are you?” the man in the wheelchair yelled above the din. The dogs started to calm down.

I told him. “Might I ask your name as well?”

“My name is Sigurd Haraldsson,” he said. “This is Thor, also Haraldsson. If you don’t know who I am, then why are you here?” Thor giggled.