“Did you find any?” Halldór asked apprehensively.
“No, not new ones—but take a look at this.”
The doctor pulled the sheet off the lower half of the corpse, revealing snow-white legs and a prominent, hairy belly. He adjusted the light so that it shone between the legs, then, using both hands, lifted up the lower half of the torso.
Halldór moved closer for a better look. Below the belly there was dense pubic hair, as one would expect, but apart from that there was nothing there, nothing at all. There were big, ugly scars on the skin, but no genitals.
Halldór recoiled, and Fridrik let the body fall back into place.
“My god,” Halldór gasped.
“Yeah, it’s pretty ugly,” Fridrik replied. “The genitalia have been cut off, and not very neatly either.” He pulled the sheet back over the bottom half of the body.
“How the hell did that happen?”
“Not easy to say, though it’s clear that it was many years ago. The wound was closed up immediately with coarse blanket stitching, but it looks as if much later a skillful surgeon restored the urethra as best he could.”
“He was, simply…castrated,” Halldór said.
“Yes, and more.”
“Wouldn’t that have affected his bodily functions?” Halldór asked.
“Yes, and I imagine it encouraged the deposit of body fat, but he must have been under medical supervision and received injections of male hormones.”
Halldór went round to the other end of the table and lifted the sheet. There was more peace in Matthías’s expression than one would expect, considering the manner of his death.
“It seems clear that there are one or two things we didn’t know about this man,” Halldór said wanly. He remembered how Matthías had knelt by his nephew Jacob’s body in Birkihlíd, and automatically made a sign of the cross over the face of the corpse before pulling the sheet over it again.
Diary XVIII
July 7, 1941. The Icelandic government called the press to a meeting today, where the following announcement was distributed: “The Icelandic government and the President of the United States have reached agreement that the United States shall undertake military protection of Iceland for the duration of the war between the major powers; an American force has already arrived in Iceland. An extraordinary session of the Althing has been called for this coming Wednesday, the 9th of this month, at one o’clock p.m., when the government will issue a full statement on the matter, together with an explanation why it was not possible to convene the Althing any earlier…
July 8, 1941. Kristján arrived back in town having completed his surveying work in Hvalfjördur. He says that about 30 American warships sailed into the fjord yesterday…
July 9, 1941. The Althing convened and approved American military protection with a 39 to 3 majority…
August 16, 1941. We learned yesterday of Mr. Churchill’s impending visit to Reykjavik today. Elizabeth was very excited and we went down to the harbor at nine o’clock and waited there. At eleven his ship docked at the Gróf pier; on the quayside there was a unit of soldiers and a band of Scottish musicians. A large crowd had gathered, and as Mr. Churchill disembarked he received enthusiastic cheering by the Icelanders. He walked up the pier, gave a friendly greeting, and raised two fingers in the V for victory sign…
When Hrefna arrived at the office just after eleven o’clock, Jóhann called her into the lab and told her of Matthías’s demise.
“I’d rather you heard it from me than Egill. I’m not sure that he realizes the seriousness of the situation yet. That guy is completely lacking in judgment.”
Hrefna was grateful. “I’d probably have hit him over the head,” she said.
They sat together sipping coffee for the next hour. Neither felt like doing any work.
When Halldór arrived, he summoned Hrefna to his office and explained in private what he had found out that morning. She listened without interrupting, her thoughts on poor Matthías.
“I’m not going to share what I have told you with the others,” he explained. “It’s enough that you know about it for now. I do need to ask you to go see Klemenz and talk to him, though. There are still some issues that we need explanations for.”
“I’ll do that,” Hrefna replied, “but I want to take this opportunity to give you my letter of resignation.” She placed an envelope on Halldór’s desk.
“Is this something to do with Matthías’s death?” Halldór asked, taken aback.