asked when he failed to turn up to deliver his lecture at the manuscript symposium and to teach at the university. An extensive search was then launched in Norway. There had been a ferry accident near Bergen at the beginning of September, and people were starting to wonder whether he might have been among the victims. The fact that the professor had been found dead on a deserted in Iceland made headlines in Copenhagen.
On the state radio news there had been a long report on the case, and the district magistrate from Patreksfjördur was quoted as saying that there was an investigation underway.
“…In 1647 Bishop Brynjólfur visited the West Fjörds and celebrated mass in the church of Flatey on the twelfth Sunday after trinity, which was the fifteenth of September. Brynjólfur then offered to buy the Flatey Book, first for money and then for land, but his offer was rejected. But when Jón Finnsson then followed the bishop to the ship, he handed him the good manuscript. One can assume that the bishop intended to print the book in Latin translation for learned men, but he did not have the king’s authorization to run a printing press in Skálholt because the bishop of Hólar had exclusive printing rights in Iceland.
“The Danish king Fridrik III reigned between 1648 and 1670. He had a keen interest in ancient knowledge and in 1656 wrote to Bishop Brynjólfur, instructing him to send him any antiquities, old stories, and documents that could be found in Iceland to increase His Majesty’s collection in the Royal Library. The bishop then communicated the king’s request to the Court of Legislature of the Althing, and in the same year he dispatched the Flatey Book abroad and it has been in the Royal Library ever since. Fridrik III acquired the Flatey Book as the king of Iceland, and one therefore needs to regard it as belonging to the Icelandic state. These are the reasons why Icelanders are currently requesting the book to be returned to Iceland, and this concludes this history of the Flatey Book.”
CHAPTER 16
H ögni continued working on the seal pups when Grímur and Kjartan went off to the telephone exchange. All of the fur had been pinned to the gable of the hut, but there was still a lot of meat left on the carcasses and the fat was meant to be melted into oil.
Little Nonni came walking down the shore with a dented milk canister in his hand and timidly greeted the teacher.
“Have you read that Indian story I lent you yet, Nonni my friend?” Högni asked.
“Yeah, twice.”
“Twice? That was unnecessary. We can go to the library together and see if we can find another fun book that you haven’t read yet.”
“I’m reading The Flying Dutchman . Dad got a loan of it.”
“That’s not a nice book.”
“I know. It’s really spooky.”
“Yes. It’s got a lot of ghosts in it. I wouldn’t lend that book to small children.”
“I only read it during the day and at night keep it where the potatoes are stored. That way I don’t get too scared.”
“I see. Have you planted the potatoes yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, almost all of them.”
“Have you caught any seal pups this spring?”
“No, none. Dad and Grandpa went out to check the net by Ketilsey this morning, but didn’t catch anything. It’s my fault, Dad says.”
“Why is it your fault?”
“I shat on the island and the seals smell the smell, Dad says. But I’m sure it’s more the dead man who’s to blame. The smell off him was a lot worse.”
Högni found an old washing bucket and chucked some pieces of seal meat into it.
“There you go, lad. Take that home to your dad. Bring the bucket back tomorrow. Then we can go to the library and find something fun to read. Remember that books are your best friend,” he said, smiling.
Nonni took the bucket and placed it under his arm. Then, fully focused, he started walking toward home without saying thank you or good-bye.
“ Can you help me to understand the questions and
On the state radio news there had been a long report on the case, and the district magistrate from Patreksfjördur was quoted as saying that there was an investigation underway.
“…In 1647 Bishop Brynjólfur visited the West Fjörds and celebrated mass in the church of Flatey on the twelfth Sunday after trinity, which was the fifteenth of September. Brynjólfur then offered to buy the Flatey Book, first for money and then for land, but his offer was rejected. But when Jón Finnsson then followed the bishop to the ship, he handed him the good manuscript. One can assume that the bishop intended to print the book in Latin translation for learned men, but he did not have the king’s authorization to run a printing press in Skálholt because the bishop of Hólar had exclusive printing rights in Iceland.
“The Danish king Fridrik III reigned between 1648 and 1670. He had a keen interest in ancient knowledge and in 1656 wrote to Bishop Brynjólfur, instructing him to send him any antiquities, old stories, and documents that could be found in Iceland to increase His Majesty’s collection in the Royal Library. The bishop then communicated the king’s request to the Court of Legislature of the Althing, and in the same year he dispatched the Flatey Book abroad and it has been in the Royal Library ever since. Fridrik III acquired the Flatey Book as the king of Iceland, and one therefore needs to regard it as belonging to the Icelandic state. These are the reasons why Icelanders are currently requesting the book to be returned to Iceland, and this concludes this history of the Flatey Book.”
CHAPTER 16
H ögni continued working on the seal pups when Grímur and Kjartan went off to the telephone exchange. All of the fur had been pinned to the gable of the hut, but there was still a lot of meat left on the carcasses and the fat was meant to be melted into oil.
Little Nonni came walking down the shore with a dented milk canister in his hand and timidly greeted the teacher.
“Have you read that Indian story I lent you yet, Nonni my friend?” Högni asked.
“Yeah, twice.”
“Twice? That was unnecessary. We can go to the library together and see if we can find another fun book that you haven’t read yet.”
“I’m reading The Flying Dutchman . Dad got a loan of it.”
“That’s not a nice book.”
“I know. It’s really spooky.”
“Yes. It’s got a lot of ghosts in it. I wouldn’t lend that book to small children.”
“I only read it during the day and at night keep it where the potatoes are stored. That way I don’t get too scared.”
“I see. Have you planted the potatoes yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, almost all of them.”
“Have you caught any seal pups this spring?”
“No, none. Dad and Grandpa went out to check the net by Ketilsey this morning, but didn’t catch anything. It’s my fault, Dad says.”
“Why is it your fault?”
“I shat on the island and the seals smell the smell, Dad says. But I’m sure it’s more the dead man who’s to blame. The smell off him was a lot worse.”
Högni found an old washing bucket and chucked some pieces of seal meat into it.
“There you go, lad. Take that home to your dad. Bring the bucket back tomorrow. Then we can go to the library and find something fun to read. Remember that books are your best friend,” he said, smiling.
Nonni took the bucket and placed it under his arm. Then, fully focused, he started walking toward home without saying thank you or good-bye.
“ Can you help me to understand the questions and
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