The Viking Seal

CHAPTER 9 - Dark Tales

Gretta and Stone boggled at the rows and rows of leaning shelves packed with books. Cute little signs, hand decorated with flowers and cartoon animals, designated the different areas. In the middle of the building was a space set aside for a large, sagging wooden table upon which dozens of cardboard tubes were piled. The smell of old ink and paper was overwhelming.

"This is the map section," Wallace announced proudly. "We have one of the oldest collections of the area. Geological, aerial, nautical, computer generated and hand drawn; we've got 'em all right here."

"That's very impressive," Gretta said. "About Mister Undset . . ."

"Right here, all set aside the moment I got off the phone." He hoisted a small carton onto the table and flipped open the flaps. "This is everything we have on Undset."

"May we take some time here to go through it?"

"You take all the time you need. Ethel and I will call you when the tea's ready."

"Uh, we will want to take it with us when we go."

"That's fine, I already made the financial arrangements with your organization." He showed a row of large teeth, adjusted his glasses and disappeared down the aisle.

"Will you look at this! Can you imagine keeping any kind of inventory?" Stone pivoted on the spot, taking in the absolutely impossible assembly of paperwork. The ceiling above was dusty dark with strings of abandoned webs hanging like thin Spanish moss.

"They must. How else could he find this stuff?"

Gretta shook her head and stared around at the packed shelves with every conceivable type of book binding and piles of paper showing through a film of dust. Stone was lifting items out of the carton and she reluctantly directed her attention to its contents.

"Some of this is in Norwegian."

"Why am I not surprised. Actually, Melanie has a bit of knowledge in those languages. Her family was originally Dutch."

"You think she can read this?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows? Doesn't matter anyway, the lab guys will translate it. Here, look at this." He unrolled a wad of single sheets, setting the carton on one edge to hold them while he flattened them out with his hand. "These look like drawings of sea routes."

"But they're not old."

"Still, they had to be based on something fairly old, look at the names of the land masses."

"You're right, we're talking around nine hundred or one thousand AD, Stone."

"I know. That's the date attributed to L'Anse-aux-Meadows on the northeast coast of Newfoundland, supposedly their first settlement in North America. Cheesy- uh, the professor mentioned it at the briefing. It was the Norwegians in the sixties that discovered the remains of a Viking colony."

"I thought whatshisname, Ericson discovered Newfoundland."

"Vinland. He named it Vinland because of all the grapes he found. But they still don't know if it's the same place."

"What makes you such an authority all of a sudden?"

"It was a long flight from Egypt. I borrowed some books from Mel's dad at the university."

Gretta pulled a small, battered book from the carton. The binding had given up its purpose long ago, and the ragged pages stuck out at random angles. She opened it carefully and set it on the table. The text was in what she believed to be a Scandinavian language; at any rate, she couldn't read it.

In the center of the book was another, sharply creased piece of paper with brown-tinged, flaky edges. She took out a spring-loaded pocketknife, causing Stone to blink in surprise, and carefully separated the folds, opening the sheet up to a piece the size of a letterhead page. Part of it wouldn't separate and the page tore easily, the two pieces remaining stuck together.

"Damn!"

"You got more than I thought you would; this stuff is like dried skin."

The image was faint and faded but in one corner she could make out a small symbol that resembled a shield and on the remaining part of the page was a map.

"Hey, Stone, check this out." She moved aside to let him examine the page. "Doesn't that look something like the copy you made of the fragment you brought?"

He quickly pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and opened it up beside the page. "I'm not sure. It looks like a route map of some kind, but the lines are so faded. We'd have to work on it in a lab. It's close enough to make it interesting. But what's the book?"

She turned a few more pages and discovered what looked like lists of names alongside dates. "Look at all these weird symbols." Gretta drew her finger down the page.

"They're runic markings. That's something I learned from Melanie's dad, he was very big on hieroglyphics and I'll bet these are the Scandinavian equivalents. It's like an old alphabet."

****

The bell over the front door chimed, and Gretta and Stone could hear Ethel greet some more customers in her oddly weary voice. Wallace mumbled something about tea and then they heard the words: 'back there in the middle of the shop'.

"Quick, put the stuff back in the box." Stone moved around the table and poked his head out around the edge of a shelf. He caught a glimpse of a large man strolling slowly past a display of fairly new paperbacks and he was about to signal an all clear when the unmistakable figure of Moira Fowler crossed the aisle and disappeared into another section. He crept back, finger to his lips. "It's Moira. She's exactly like the picture in the professor's file."

Gretta pulled a face and took a tighter grip on the box. "I can't believe they'd try something in here. Listen! Someone's coming," she hissed and slipped back around the table.

"Aah, I see you've finished your examination. Is it what you hoped for?" Wallace wobbled around the corner with a tray of cups and saucers and a small teapot.

"Yes we have. It's really been most helpful, Wallace. I'm sorry we won't have time to enjoy your hospitality, my friend and I are in a bit of a hurry."

"But the tea." His demeanour became one of hurt and disappointment.

"I know, it's terribly rude since you've gone to the trouble but we really do have to go." They risked another look down the aisle and then asked Wallace if they could leave by his rear door.

"I don't understand . . ."

"Please, Wallace. It's important." Gretta squeezed his arm and showed him a pleading smile.

"Well I suppose." He set the tray on the table and wiped his hands on the side of his cardigan. "Just follow this aisle right out to the back. You'll be going through our living quarters so please don't be too judgmental." His face screwed up apologetically. "And make sure you close it tight behind you." He gave a half-hearted wave in return to Gretta's and watched them scoot through the columns of bookshelves toting their material.

"Your little tea party interrupted?" Wallace turned to see the striking woman blocking the doorway of his map room. "What happened to your guests?"