Jørgen Renstrup asked me if I would like to travel with him to Tirol and Salzkammergut in Austria this summer for some hiking in the mountains. He had heard my accounts of my travels in Iceland, and is also a keenhiker. This will be a good opportunity to exercise my knowledge of German…
May 15, 1912. It is being reported in the city that King Frederik VIII died suddenly yesterday while traveling in Hamburg…
June 28, 1912. Jørgen Renstrup and I are setting off on a three-week journey to Austria. We shall have a sleeper cabin on the train…
H refna had led the old woman gently out of the house via the back door, past some uniformed officers searching the garden with rakes.
“What are these men doing?” Sveinborg had asked.
“They are checking to see if there’s anything lying in the garden that might help us solve this case,” Hrefna explained.
“The garden is very messy just now. Jacob Junior has tried to keep it tidy, but the wind blows garbage into it all the time. I really don’t know where it comes from,” she remarked.
It will probably get cleared properly this time, Hrefna had thought, but said nothing.
They were silent on the drive to Ránargata. The apartment was small but cozy: a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. The furniture was old and didn’t match, but everything was very clean. The only bed was a sofa bed, with its mattress folded away. Embroidered cushions lay on top, and above it was a large wall hanging decorated with matching embroidery.
Sveinborg immediately began to make coffee; she seemed to feel better when she was doing something. Hrefna sat down on a bench by the small kitchen table and took out her notebook and pen.
“Has Jacob lived alone for long?”
“Mrs. Kieler, Jacob Junior’s mother, lived in the house, of course, while she was alive,” the old woman replied. “It was first and foremost her home. She died two years ago, bless her soul.”
“Are there any other relatives?”
“There is Kirsten, of course, Jacob’s sister. She lives up north, married to a headmaster. They have a daughter, Elísabet, named for old Mrs. Kieler. She is presently at the university here, studying law. She is lovely, but a little bit unsettled, as the young often are. Kirsten wanted Elísabet to live in Birkihlíd with Jacob Junior when she came south to go to school, but that came to nothing. She does pop in to see me now and again for afternoon coffee.”
Hrefna jotted the names down.
“Why did she end up not living in the house? There must have been plenty of space.”
Sveinborg shifted uneasily. “It wasn’t easy to live with Jacob Junior. He was, of course, very kind to me, but it wasn’t easy for a modern young girl to put up with him.”
“How did that manifest?”
“Oh…” Sveinborg hesitated. “It’s just that he was rather domineering.”
Hrefna understood that the old woman didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so she changed course. “Are there any other relatives?”
“There’s Matthías, of course,” Sveinborg continued. “Matthías Kieler, a cellist. At the moment he is visiting Iceland for a few months. He’s renting an apartment not far from Birkihlíd, and lives there with his manservant.”
“His manservant?”
“Yes, well, Klemenz has his own apartment, I think, in Austria, where they live. They are only here on a visit. The family is settling old inheritance matters.”
Sveinborg had misunderstood Hrefna’s surprise.
“It’s a bit unusual for people to have servants,” Hrefna clarified. “Is he in full employment as Matthías’s manservant…this Klemenz?”
“Yes, of course,” Sveinborg replied. It seemed perfectly natural to her that people should employ servants. “Klemenz has been with Matthías for many years, ever since he went to live in Germany. Matthías is a well-known musician, you see, who has worked abroad ever since he completed his studies. As he never married, he has always needed a servant.
May 15, 1912. It is being reported in the city that King Frederik VIII died suddenly yesterday while traveling in Hamburg…
June 28, 1912. Jørgen Renstrup and I are setting off on a three-week journey to Austria. We shall have a sleeper cabin on the train…
H refna had led the old woman gently out of the house via the back door, past some uniformed officers searching the garden with rakes.
“What are these men doing?” Sveinborg had asked.
“They are checking to see if there’s anything lying in the garden that might help us solve this case,” Hrefna explained.
“The garden is very messy just now. Jacob Junior has tried to keep it tidy, but the wind blows garbage into it all the time. I really don’t know where it comes from,” she remarked.
It will probably get cleared properly this time, Hrefna had thought, but said nothing.
They were silent on the drive to Ránargata. The apartment was small but cozy: a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. The furniture was old and didn’t match, but everything was very clean. The only bed was a sofa bed, with its mattress folded away. Embroidered cushions lay on top, and above it was a large wall hanging decorated with matching embroidery.
Sveinborg immediately began to make coffee; she seemed to feel better when she was doing something. Hrefna sat down on a bench by the small kitchen table and took out her notebook and pen.
“Has Jacob lived alone for long?”
“Mrs. Kieler, Jacob Junior’s mother, lived in the house, of course, while she was alive,” the old woman replied. “It was first and foremost her home. She died two years ago, bless her soul.”
“Are there any other relatives?”
“There is Kirsten, of course, Jacob’s sister. She lives up north, married to a headmaster. They have a daughter, Elísabet, named for old Mrs. Kieler. She is presently at the university here, studying law. She is lovely, but a little bit unsettled, as the young often are. Kirsten wanted Elísabet to live in Birkihlíd with Jacob Junior when she came south to go to school, but that came to nothing. She does pop in to see me now and again for afternoon coffee.”
Hrefna jotted the names down.
“Why did she end up not living in the house? There must have been plenty of space.”
Sveinborg shifted uneasily. “It wasn’t easy to live with Jacob Junior. He was, of course, very kind to me, but it wasn’t easy for a modern young girl to put up with him.”
“How did that manifest?”
“Oh…” Sveinborg hesitated. “It’s just that he was rather domineering.”
Hrefna understood that the old woman didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so she changed course. “Are there any other relatives?”
“There’s Matthías, of course,” Sveinborg continued. “Matthías Kieler, a cellist. At the moment he is visiting Iceland for a few months. He’s renting an apartment not far from Birkihlíd, and lives there with his manservant.”
“His manservant?”
“Yes, well, Klemenz has his own apartment, I think, in Austria, where they live. They are only here on a visit. The family is settling old inheritance matters.”
Sveinborg had misunderstood Hrefna’s surprise.
“It’s a bit unusual for people to have servants,” Hrefna clarified. “Is he in full employment as Matthías’s manservant…this Klemenz?”
“Yes, of course,” Sveinborg replied. It seemed perfectly natural to her that people should employ servants. “Klemenz has been with Matthías for many years, ever since he went to live in Germany. Matthías is a well-known musician, you see, who has worked abroad ever since he completed his studies. As he never married, he has always needed a servant.
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