“I will help however I can, of course. My office is over here.” She gestured toward a cubicle in one corner.
The space was cramped, but also oddly barren. It took Nina a moment to realize what was missing: Tova’s work. The desk was devoid of papers, and there was a faint discoloration on its surface that suggested a laptop had been in long-term residence. “Did they take your research as well?”
The older woman nodded miserably. “I had backups of everything at home, fortunately, but yes—it was a horrible shock. First the runestone and Arvid’s murder, and then I found all my work had gone … I thought I had lost everything.”
“That means they don’t know exactly what they’re looking for, though,” Eddie said thoughtfully. “If they need your work as well, then whatever they’re after, they’re not as close to it as they’d like.”
“But what could they be after?” Nina wondered. “What’s so special about this runestone?”
Tova opened a large satchel, taking a thick folder from it. “I printed out my research from the backups. I have photographs, translations of all the runes, any connections I found to mythology or historical fact, everything I could think of. Hopefully the answer is in here.” She gestured for her guests to sit.
Nina did so, Eddie pulling up a second chair beside her. “I suppose the best starting point would be the runes themselves. What do they say?”
Tova opened the folder and leafed through the pages within, handing several to Nina. “I have an English translation here. It may not be as accurate as the Swedish, but it will give you a good idea.”
The American quickly scanned through the text. “An account of the preparations for Ragnarök?” she said before long, looking up at Tova.
“That is why it would be better if you could read the Swedish version,” Tova replied. “There is more nuance. It is not exactly an account, more …” She frowned; despite her excellent command of English, the correct words eluded her. “It is not the right tense, you could say. Calling it an account implies that it is in the past tense, a description of something that has already happened. The text on the Valhalla stone is more like …” Another frown, before it came to her. “Like a prophecy.”
“A prophecy?” said Eddie. “About what?”
“Ragnarök,” Nina told him. “The end of the world.”
He moaned. “Not again!”
Tova gave him a confused look, then turned back to Nina. “That is right. In my belief, it tells the warriors what to do at Ragnarök.”
Nina was still reading, but wanted to hear Tova’s own interpretation. “Which is what?”
“To travel to Valhalla and gather the weapons they will need to kill Jörmungandr and Fenrir—the serpent and the wolf,” she elaborated. “Jörmungandr is the Midgard Serpent, a giant snake that encircles the earth beneath its surface, and Fenrir is a huge and monstrous wolf. When they return, it heralds Ragnarök. Although it is not quite right to say it is the end of the world,” she corrected Nina. “The translation is closer to ‘the twilight of the gods.’ It is more like the end of a cycle, as the world will renew in time, but there will be much destruction and death before that happens.”
Nina nodded and kept reading. The large runestone had been crammed with text; the translation took up several pages. Eddie, meanwhile, had questions of his own. “So the stone actually tells you how to find Valhalla? I guess that’s another place we can add to the thought-they-were-legends, turns-out-they’re-real list.”
“It’s not quite like getting directions from Google Maps,” said Nina, still perusing the text. “It seems more like riddles.”
“In a way,” Tova replied. “This runestone tells you to reach Valhalla by traveling up a river until you reach Bifröst—the rainbow bridge that in myth joined the earth with Asgard, the realm of the gods. Once you cross it, you are not far from Valhalla. The runes tell you the path to take. But they do not say which river to follow.”
By now, Nina had reached a relevant part of the translation. “There’s a second runestone?”
“Yes. The first gives a clue on how to find it, saying that a true warrior will understand it.” She leaned across the desk, pointing out a particular passage. “ ‘At the fellowship hall, the other part waits.’ I believe it refers to a site in Norway. I would imagine that the other runestone is much like the first, but tells you which river to follow—without telling you how to reach Valhalla.”
“It’s a security code,” Eddie realized. “You need both runestones to find the place—but even if you have one stone, unless you’re a proper Viking warrior you won’t know where the other one is.”
“So what happens once you get there?” Nina asked. “The text mentions a guide-stone …”
“A sun compass,” Tova told her. She took a photograph from the folder; it was a close-up of the circle of black stone set into the face of the granite monolith.
Nina regarded the picture. Faint lines were inscribed on the dark surface, lines arcing across it from one side to the other. The outer edge was also marked, angular chevrons evenly spaced around the circumference. Further runic symbols appeared in the spaces between the lines. “I’ve seen these before. The Vikings used them for navigation.”
Eddie peered at the image. “Looks a bit like a ship’s chart.”
“It’s similar—they used them to determine latitude. The Vikings didn’t have magnetic compasses, so they needed another way to navigate at sea.”
“Actually, that is still uncertain,” Tova remarked. “The compass set into the runestone is magnetic. It is a carved piece of magnetite; a lodestone. But we don’t know if it was used to magnetize needles to point north, or was simply considered special because it was magnetic. Nobody has found proof that the Vikings used magnetic compasses, though.”
Eddie nodded. “That hole in the middle looks like it’s for a stick or something, so you can use it like a sundial.”
“That’s basically right,” Nina told him. “The lines”—she indicated the various arcs—“represent different times of year to match the sun’s path in the sky, and you’d use the shadow to work out how far north you were. I think they were quite accurate.”
“A skilled user could work out their position to within one degree of latitude,” said Tova, with a hint of pride in her heritage.
Eddie was impressed. “Smart. There was more to the Vikings than pillaging and helmets with cow horns, then.”
“There is no evidence that they ever wore horned helmets in battle,” insisted the Swede, slightly testy. “That is as much of a myth as Odin and Thor.”
“Maybe more of a myth, if you’re right about the runestone giving directions to Valhalla,” said Nina. She looked back at the translation. “So the sun compass … ‘the two parts together brought, shall alone open the death-gate of Valhalla’? Do you know what that means?”
“I’m afraid not. But there is a reference to a gate to Valhalla in the Poetic Edda—another of Snorri Sturluson’s works,” she added for Eddie’s benefit. “Depending on the translation, it is referred to as a ‘holy gate,’ a ‘sacred gate’—or a ‘death-barrier.’ ”
Eddie sighed. “Based on our luck in the past, I know which one it’ll turn out to be. If you find the place, watch out for booby traps.”
Tova seemed alarmed at the prospect. “I had not thought of that!”
“We’ve got prior experience,” Nina told her mournfully. “Lots and lots of prior experience.” She stared at the pages, thinking over what she had learned. “Okay, then. I think it’s safe to say that the Valhalla Runestone was stolen because someone”—she avoided mentioning Berkeley’s name, mindful of Seretse’s advice—“wants to find Valhalla itself. Presumably they’re looking for the second runestone as well.”
“Unless they’ve already got it,” Eddie said.
“Let’s hope not. But the question is: Why do they want to find Valhalla so badly that they’re willing to kill for it?”
“I do not know,” said Tova, shaking her head.
“The poem Grímnismál, in the Poetic Edda, describes Valhalla as ‘golden’ and roofed with shields. In some interpretations of the poem they are made of gold, so perhaps the robbers think they will find treasure there.”
“They’d have to be pretty bloody sure it was more than just a myth to murder somebody for it,” said the Englishman.
“Yeah,” Nina agreed. “Is there anything more in the runes that might be useful?” She looked back through the translated text, searching for clues.
Tova took the Swedish version of the ancient writing from the folder. “The runes tell you how to find Valhalla—or half of the route, at least—and then say you need the sun compass to get through the gate. There is little description of what is inside, though. All it says is that the warriors shall find everything they need to reach the battlefield where they will face the serpent and the wolf at Ragnarök. ‘The serpent’s venom lies thick deep below, black eitr that can kill even a god …’ ”
She continued, but Nina’s attention shifted to her husband as he reacted to Tova’s words, straightening in his seat. “Eddie? What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said, suddenly curt.
“But you just sat up like you’d realized there’s a bomb under the table.” She looked back at Tova. “What was that about poison?”
“The Midgard Serpent’s venom is called eitr,” Tova told her, surprised by the couple’s shift of focus. “It—”
“It’s what killed Thor,” Eddie cut in. “It’s supposedly the source of all life in Viking legend, but it’s also lethal if it touches you. Thor killed the snake, but he got poisoned by it and died straight after.”
“That is right,” said Tova. “According to myth, the first giant, Ymir, was birthed from eitr, and all other life came from him. But Eddie is also right that it is a deadly poison. Thor only took nine steps after killing the serpent before he fell.”
Nina looked askance at her husband. “How did you know about that?”
“Learned about Viking legends at school,” he replied. But his tone was still taciturn, and she recognized a subtle shift in his attitude that warned her he would not elaborate further without her risking escalating the discussion into an argument.
Right now, she had larger concerns. “You said the second runestone is in Norway?” she asked Tova.
“I believe so,” the historian replied. “But I am afraid it will be impossible to reach. The site is at the bottom of a lake—it was flooded when a dam was built in the 1930s.”
“Well, that’s the end of that, then,” said Eddie, sounding oddly relieved.
“Slow down, Mr. Defeatist,” Nina teased. “The IHA’s got the resources to take a look if we need to.”
Tova was a little taken aback. “You would explore the lake to find the other runestone? What is the IHA’s interest in this?”
“It’s what we do. If Valhalla is more than just a legend, then it’s our job to protect it from looters.”
“Hmm. That is the IHA’s official purpose, but …” She gave Nina a calculating look. “I have heard stories that the IHA has something to do with global security.” The American tried to keep her expression neutral. “Is that why you are here? Will finding Valhalla be dangerous somehow?”
“It didn’t even occur to me that somebody might be trying to find Valhalla until you just told me,” Nina answered, truthfully. “All I can tell you right now is that we possibly have a lead on who that somebody is. Would you be willing to help us?”
“Yes, of course. I want to find out who did this, and why—but I have to admit that … I also want to find Valhalla.” A slightly sheepish grin. “With a name like Skilfinger—there is a ‘Skilfingr,’ without an e, mentioned in the Prose Edda—I suppose I have a connection to the mythology.”
“Looks like it’s more than just a myth,” Eddie said quietly.
Nina still wanted to quiz him further on his reaction to the mention of eitr, but decided it could wait. Instead, she told Tova: “That’s great. We’ll go back to the hotel and I’ll contact New York to make the arrangements, then we can start work. Hopefully we’ll find the truth.”
“I hope so too,” the Swede replied. “Are you taking a taxi?”
Nina stood and put on her coat. “Absolutely. I don’t want to walk in this weather!”
“Wuss,” said Eddie, shaking off his distracted air as he rose.
Tova picked up her own coat. “I will call one, then walk you to it. Since you do not like the cold, I do not want to leave you standing out in it for too long!”
She made a short phone call, then the trio made their way back through the museum. “So, if you were able to organize a dig, I guess you’re an archaeologist as well as a historian,” Nina said.
“I go both ways,” Tova replied, prompting a snort of barely contained laughter from Eddie followed by an irked glare from his wife. “In an ideal world I would do both, but there was never enough time. Especially once I had children.”
“You’ve got kids?” Eddie asked.
“Two boys. Well, men now—they are both grown up. It was hard to keep working once they arrived, but I managed thanks to my wonderful husband, God rest him. The past has been my passion since I was a child, so even though I love my sons, giving it up would have been like giving up a part of myself. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do,” said Nina, suddenly wistful.
“But you managed to keep your career and still have kids at the same time,” Eddie said, with a pointed look at Nina. “So it is possible.”
“Oh yes. If something is very important to you, you will always find a way to do it—even if there are other things that are important too! If there is one thing I have learned about life, it is that.”
“Hear that, love?” He prodded Nina’s side. “Sounds like good advice to me.”
“It’s something to think about, certainly,” she replied, giving him a warm smile.
They reached the main entrance. Tova peered through the glass doors. “I think that is your taxi,” she announced, seeing a dark blue Mercedes pulling up at the edge of the plaza.
“Thanks,” Nina replied. They stepped outside. “Oh, damn! Jeez, it’s freezing.” She hunched more deeply into her coat.
“You should visit when it is really cold,” said Tova, amused. “You are not bothered by it, Eddie?”
“Got a magic jacket,” he replied with a grin. Ahead, a black Audi made an abrupt stop behind the taxi. Two men in dark coats and baseball caps got out of the back, a third emerging from the front passenger door. “Helps when I—”
For the second time that afternoon, Nina saw a sudden shift in his attitude. “Eddie? What …”
He had already taken up a defensive posture, right hand instinctively reaching into his jacket for a gun that wasn’t there before he arrested the movement. “Nina, Tova—run!”
But it was too late.
The approaching men also reached into their coats—but unlike Eddie, they had weapons concealed inside. Three pistols came up. One man shouted in Swedish. Nina didn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear: Don’t move! Two of the men kept their guns aimed at Eddie and Nina while the third grabbed the startled Tova, burying the muzzle of his weapon in her side.
A bystander saw the commotion—and the guns. She shrieked, alerting other people nearby. The taxi driver’s eyes bugged wide in shock as he saw what was happening, then he stomped his foot to the floor and set his vehicle fishtailing away as quickly as it could go.
“Oi!” Eddie yelled as the third man hauled Tova toward the waiting Audi S4. “Let her go!”
“Shut fuck up, and get back!” one of the others snarled, jabbing his gun at the Yorkshireman. His companion did the same to Nina, making her flinch away.
Tova screamed, her heels scraping through the snow as her captor dragged her across the plaza. The Audi’s engine revved, its driver signaling for his comrades to hurry up. The man holding Nina at gunpoint said something—Russian, she thought—to his com
panion and ran to help the third kidnapper manhandle their prisoner into the back of the car.
“No fucking move!” the remaining man ordered, swinging his gun back and forth between the couple. He backed up, risking a glance at the car once he was sure the gap was wide enough to prevent Eddie from charging him. “You move, I kill you!”
“Just let her go, and nobody has to get hurt,” said Nina, more afraid for Tova than herself. If the Russians wanted her and Eddie dead they would have killed them already, but there was no way to know what they had in store for their victim.
“Shut up, get fucking back,” was his only reply. Behind him, the other two men had forced the struggling historian into the car. Gun still raised, the last of the three jogged backward and clambered into the remaining seat. Before he had even fully closed the door the Audi peeled away, snow spraying up from its tires.
Eddie ran after it, but knew he would never catch up. The S4 had four-wheel drive, easily finding purchase on the plowed road. He searched for another car he could flag down to give chase …
The only approaching vehicle was not what he had in mind. “You’re fucking joking,” he said under his breath, checking the other side of the boulevard for something, anything better. But he was out of luck.
No choice. He ran into the street, waving furiously for the driver to stop.
Nina had taken out her iPhone to alert the police, but saw that others on the plaza were already making emergency calls. Instead, she ran after her husband. To her dismay, she realized that he intended to pursue the kidnappers—and her alarm only worsened when she saw what he was about to commandeer. “Eddie, what’re you doing?”
“I’m going after them!” he shouted back as he pulled the startled driver, a young man in thick-framed glasses and multiple layers of trendy clothing, from his vehicle. “Hope you speak English,” Eddie told him, “ ’cause I need your car.”
“That’s not a car,” Nina protested as she reached him. “That’s a golf cart!”
It was actually a Renault Twizy, a minuscule electric buggy with a futuristically styled—and open-sided—pod-like body. It had only two seats, the driver’s position and a small passenger space directly behind it. “It’s all we’ve got,” insisted Eddie. The driver made a flustered objection; the Englishman pushed him away. “Sorry, Bjorn. Just call the police. Polis, polizei? Whatever they are in Swedish, call ’em!”
The Valhalla Prophecy Page 7
