House of Evidence(34)

Reverend Ingimar was interrupted by his wife, a pale, thin woman, bearing a tray of coffee. She had overheard this last sentence and said portentously, “The Kieler males do not perish from old age. The legend does not lie.”

The pastor glared at his wife but said nothing.

“What legend would that be?” Erlendur asked.

“There was once a loathsome and unchristian calumny told about the Kieler family,” replied the pastor. “It will not be repeated in this house, and I had hoped that it had been forgotten,” he added, directing these words toward his wife.

As soon as she had put out their cups and poured the coffee, his wife left the room, allowing the pastor to continue. “Merchant Jacob Kieler made his money in trade during the second half of the last century, and his son, Alfred, took over when his father died. He built Birkihlíd in 1910. He had two sons, Jacob the engineer and Matthías the musician.” The pastor consulted his notes. “There was a bit of an age gap between the brothers. Jacob Senior was born in 1890 and Matthías in 1904. Jacob went abroad to study in 1910, first to Denmark and then to Germany, where he took a course in railway engineering in Berlin. After completing his studies, he worked for a while in the United States. He was married in the summer of 1919, and he and his wife moved back to Iceland in 1920.”

The pastor paused again to check his papers.

“Jacob Senior worked on a variety of engineering projects over the years that followed. His main interest was, of course, railways, and he devoted a great deal of his time and his own resources to traveling round the country to survey routes for the railroad, and designing station facilities and bridges. But these projects never came to anything.”

Reverend Ingimar took a sip of his coffee, crunching a lump of sugar between his teeth before continuing. “Well, the war began and the British army occupied the country. Naturally Jacob Senior acquired an important role then. His knowledge of English and his education made him a vital link between the occupying forces and the locals, and construction works for the military were, to a great extent, under his supervision. He very much came into his own, and was highly regarded by everyone.”

The pastor was quiet for a while, and when he continued his tone of voice had changed. “It was in the summer of 1945 that the terrible tragedy occurred. I assume you have familiarized yourselves with the case, which naturally affected the family greatly. Mrs. Elizabeth had put down roots here, and she continued to live at Birkihlíd, but she felt the loss sorely. It was very hard for Jacob Junior to lose his father and witness his mother’s grief. He tried to be a good son in every way, and was her support and her rock until the day she died. Mrs. Elizabeth died two years ago, a venerable old lady. I conducted the funeral at the cathedral, and some of her relatives came over from England to attend; I had to deliver the address in English, of course…”

“What can you tell me about Jacob Junior?”

“Yes, Jacob Junior. Well, we met at high school. He was quiet and aloof, and did not have much in common with many of our classmates. I myself came from out of town, from Snæfellsnes, where my father was a pastor. I was a shy youth and unsophisticated, and so tried to pick a friend who was not particularly conspicuous. During my two last years at school, the Kielers allowed me to live in a room in the basement of Birkihlíd. For board, however, I used to go to an aunt of mine who lived in Vesturgata, a very nice woman who took in people for meals, mainly students. She and my father were cousins—”

Erlendur interrupted him. “What about Jacob Junior, what did he study?”

“Well…Mrs. Elizabeth always kept in good contact with her relatives in Leicester and frequently visited them in the summer. Jacob Junior always accompanied her, and when the time came for him to go to university, the Chatfield family helped him get into Cambridge, where he studied history and philosophy. During our high school years, I had thought he would study theology with me at the university here in Iceland, but that’s not the way it turned out. I became a theologian and the following year I was ordained to the north to—”

“What did Jacob Junior do after completing his studies?” Erlendur asked, interrupting him again.

“When he returned home he was appointed history teacher at our old school, but unfortunately teaching did not suit him and he left after the first term.”

“Isn’t it rather unusual,” Erlendur asked, “for teachers to leave in the middle of the school year?”

Reverend Ingimar was quiet for a while before continuing. “As I said, teaching did not suit him; he did not manage to connect with the students, and there were some disciplinary issues. He was extremely upset about this, and in the end had a bit of a nervous breakdown. He was in the hospital for a while, but his mother nursed him back to health and he recovered very well in the end. After completing his university degree, he had planned to write a doctoral thesis on the adoption of Christianity in Iceland and the adaptation of heathen philosophy to Christian society. I think he sought financial support from his mother’s family in order to focus on these studies, but was declined. They were practical folk who were not very impressed with his choice of study. Then he took a job at the bank, initially for the short term only, but he settled there.”