The Orkney Scroll (30 page)

What is to happen to the cauldron is still up in the air. Under the law of Treasure Trove in Scotland, objects like the cauldron have to be reported, and authorities will decide on their disposition. Simon Spence tells me it is an extraordinary find. In it scientists found traces of a hallucinogenic substance, which may explain what happened to Bjarni in the tomb. Spence believes it was used in rituals in ancient times, one in which sacrificial victims were beheaded. The severed head that speaks was an important symbol in ancient mythology, according to Simon.

As far as Bjarni’s saga itself is concerned, though, it raises more questions than it answers. The cauldron, which scientists believe does indeed come from Northern Europe, predates Bjarni by at least a thousand years. The tomb in which Percy found it—and soil analysis does place the cauldron in that tomb—is three thousand years older than that. Does that mean that when Bjarni’s saga was first written down a fragment of a much earlier tale insinuated itself into the story? Did Bjarni come upon an isolated cult that was still practicing rituals from a much earlier time? Did he simply find, or perhaps more likely, steal the cauldron and make up the story about his capture in the forest to explain his extended absence to his traveling companions? We will never know.

Despite that, Spence is coming around to believing much of Bjarni’s tale, even if no one will ever prove it, in no small measure because of a runic inscription found in the tomb of the orcs that essentially says “Bjarni Haraldsson was here.” It’s possible that someone in relatively recent times saw the runic inscription and perhaps even the cauldron and invented a story to go with them, rather than the other way around, so Bjarni’s story remains one that you can believe or not as you choose.

The cauldron is priceless, of course, not that Emily Budge or Sigurd will ever see any money from it. Neither of them seems terribly upset about this, bless their hearts. They just want to see that it is placed somewhere it will be appreciated. They have agreed that if it is donated, the donor recognition will be to both Sigurd and Thor Haraldsson and Magnus Budge. It is very beautiful, now that conservators have had at it. Much of the silver gilt is still there, and there are embossed panels that show a scene in a forest with stags and a disembodied head that looks as if it is about to speak. Bjarni’s story gains more credence with me every day.

Maya Alexander was not charged in her husband’s death. We all testified that it was self-defense and that she had indeed saved us all. She is back in New York, Maya Hausman now, having gone back to her maiden name, something I’d have done in a flash, too, if I had found myself in her situation. She’s looking for a job, given her late husband’s assets are all frozen. It was not my powers of persuasion that convinced her to believe me and not her husband that fateful day. It was not even Willow lying in the mud unconscious. Instead, it was one of those moments when everything one has been trying to pretend doesn’t exist just cannot be ignored any longer. In Maya’s mind, her friend Bev and Robert were the perfect couple, and it is possible that Maya was always secretly in love with her best friend’s husband. Bev tried to confide in her, but Maya either could not, or would not, hear what Bev had to say. On that fateful day in the rain, suddenly everything Maya feared was exposed, the message was crystal clear. And, as Robert put it, she knew what she had to do. It was perhaps not what he had in mind. She says one of her real regrets, other than not realizing what was happening to her friend, and what kind of poor excuse for a human being Robert was, is that she will never feel able to go back to Orkney. The place, she says, has gotten under her skin.

I can understand that. Despite all that had happened in Orkney, I kept thinking of its rolling countryside, the soft touch of the air, the clouds coming down to kiss the green slopes, the shining water of St. Margaret’s Hope, where children play, and even the wild fury of the wind and the sea. Most of all I think of the kindness of strangers. Percy said he was looking for salvation there. I doubt salvation was his. He said I went to Orkney to seek vindication, and I think I can say with some justification that I found it. But more than that, I gained a profound sense of history as a continuous stream, as a living presence in our lives. I’m happy to have breathed the same air, felt the same rain, and watched the same sunsets as Percy, Sigurd, Thor, and yes, Bjarni the Wanderer. If there is treasure to be found in Orkney, I believe that is where it lies.