Lindisfarne Castle
Landvik, Jarn and Levi hurried along the cobbled path and went to enter the gate leading up to the castle entrance. A young man ran from the wooden shed they had passed.
“Excuse me! You need a ticket.”
Landvik paused, sucked a breath in through his nose, and turned to the young man.
Jarn leaned close. “Best to keep as calm as possible, sir. The trouble back there will catch up soon enough.”
Landvik allowed himself one curt nod. The young pragmatist was an asset in this instance. “You’re right. Thank you.” He turned a smile to the ticket officer. “My apologies. How much?”
A few moments later they were on their way up the long, uneven cobbled steps.
“I feel like I’ve just been robbed,” Landvik said.
Jarn laughed. “That’s these kinds of attractions for you. They gouge the populace to keep them open.”
A few small groups of tourists were braving the inclement weather and Landvik moved impatiently around them. The rain had eased again, back to a gusting drizzle more like a thick mist than anything that could really be called a downpour. But he was already soaked, his skin wet and icy. A soft shiver kept rippling through him and all he wanted was to be somewhere warm and dry. All this running around after Rose Black and her incessantly annoying boyfriend was beginning to shred his nerves. But a little more patience and they’d have them. This was a dead end, and it had the feeling of an impending conclusion.
They climbed the steps to the lower battery and paused to get their bearings. A tourist tapped Landvik on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, could you take a photo for us please?” He pointed to a woman and three children standing against the battlements, the gusting rain and ocean behind them like a Turner seascape.
“No, I could not!” Landvik said and turned away.
He heard the man mutter, “Well, how rude!” then he was striding into the main entrance hall.
“You think Rose has been holding out on us?” Levi asked. “Like, she knew all along it was here?”
“No idea, but it must be here. Why would they run here otherwise?”
“Perhaps they were just running.”
Landvik paused, shook his head. “No. Something has drawn all of us here. Fates are at work this day. We are meant to be in this place, at this time. I’m sure the hammer is hidden here somewhere.”
“But I checked the history,” Jarn said, his voice nervous. No doubt he knew he was on thin ice contradicting Landvik’s conviction. “The first recorded structure here on this rock was built in the sixteenth century.”
Landvik turned to him, one eyebrow raised.
Jarn paused, and then continued. “This rock, it’s called Beblowe Crag. The first recorded structure here is Beblowe Fort, not built until 1548. That’s nearly a thousand years after Ragnar Lodbrok’s time.”
“You think nothing was here before?” Landvik asked. He gestured forward. “That way. Look for Miss Black and her friends.”
They moved on. “Well, history says...” Jarn began.
“History is written by the winners and by politicians. This island was raided by the Vikings in 793. They had a presence here and they would have established various places of habitation and worship. They absolutely would not have ignored a rock like this, a possible gateway to Valhalla.”
Tourists blocked one room and Landvik turned the other way, stalking along a narrow passage.
“So if the hammer was hidden here, then the castle was built on top of it, you think the hammer was moved?” Jarn asked. “Taken away? Hidden in the new construction?”
Landvik shook his head. “I’ve been researching thoroughly. This is my life’s work. I’m certain the hammer has never been discovered. It must be hidden beneath the castle, perhaps in the remnants of the old fort that stood here.” He paused, thoughtful, then shook his head. “It’s somewhere here.”
“How can you know for certain, sir?” Jarn asked. “That the hammer has never been found, I mean. No one knows what it looks like, right?”
“If it had been found, the world would know,” Landvik said. “That’s surely true, because there’s none like it. Now move. We must find them quickly!”