The details came out in low, contemplative tones, the voice of someone giving careful instructions on how to get from here to there. Jason scribbled until the graphite was a nub.
“They’re not ‘Nordic,’ as you first mentioned,” she was saying. “They hail from all over. France. Portugal. Ireland, even. The leader is actually a Frenchman.”
She went on. “For whatever reason, they cease their pillaging and plundering elsewhere during summers and retreat to Iceland. The glacier caves conceal their ships and allow them to train and make repairs. They are usually idle in the summers, only raiding foreign vessels to replenish provisions and stave off boredom.”
She made expressive gestures as she spoke, her tight green gloves slicing and spinning the air in the shape of her story.
“They are tolerated by the locals, but only because one of the farming families, the Skallagrímurs, harbors them.”
He repeated the family name phonetically. “Will you spell it?”
She chuckled and rattled off the spelling. “I believe that’s correct. A niece in the family married one of the pirate leaders. This union afforded an alliance which serves both sides.”
He asked her to explain what could be mutually beneficial among pirates and Icelandic farmers. Her answer, just as the others, was well considered, full of detail, and made perfect sense. She was like a book he’d plucked at random from a shelf. He could have learnedanything or nothing at all; instead, she was a trove of information.
“The pirates police the coasts to keep the farms’ common laborers from fishing,” Isobel was saying.
“Prevent them from fishing?” asked Jason. “It’s an island.”
“Quite so,” she said, “but if the commoners could make their livings as fishermen, they would not be available or willing to work the fields. So the pirates suppress any upstart fishermen. And the farmers keep the Danish Navy off the pirates. It has been my observation that, no matter where you go, the people in charge will invoke any means necessary toremainin charge.”
“Hmm,” Jason mused. He left his bench and settled beside her. He took more notes.
He would confirm this—about the pirates and this Skallagrímur family. He would confirm all of it. He’d also have to confirmheridentity and history. She was his favorite type of informant, but too much was at stake for her toguessat these details. If she would not tell him how she’d acquired this expertise, he’d poke around until he learned it himself. The uncle who pulled so many strings to get her home, perhaps.
He looked up. “So, if the job of the pirates is to control local fishing, why capture English merchants and hold them hostage? They are hardly local fishermen.”
Isobel shrugged. “This, I cannot say. Ransom money? Have they made any demands?”
“They have actually,” said Jason. “But it’s not a lot. It wouldn’t be enough, to say, retire from pirating and buy a house in the fjords.”
Isobel chuckled. “Perhaps your cousin and his friends did not offend the pirates, but the pirates’ sponsors, the Skallagrímurs?”
“Just to be clear, my cousin has simply gone along. He’s not clever enough to succeed as a smuggler. He was duped into joining this ill-advised endeavor. Poor Reggie, this is not the first time.”
“So it’s not the members of your family you resent, simply the title? Or is it the sheep?”
“I beg your pardon?” he said, looking up from his notes.
Isobel looked startled. “Forgive me, of course we weren’t speaking of—”
“No, I am happy to discuss my family,” he amended. “And my sheep, the dodgy little bastards.”
“It was intrusive of me to—”
“I am fond of my family. I’ve three sisters and a mother who are very dear to me. Various aunts and uncles. Cousins, naturally. Reggie is the son of mymother’sbrother—so the nonducal side, but we were brought up in close relation with the maternal branch of the family. I spent summers at the seaside in Lincolnshire.
“Reggie is one of those men who means well but does not... er, think things through. My father and two brothers lost patience for him years ago, but I’ve a history of rescuing him from scrapes. A soft spot, you might say.”
“This is the first time you’ve rescued him from pirate captivity, I assume?” she asked.
“Indeed. If I wasn’t so fond of him, I’d alert the Royal Navy and let them sort it out. But he is a gentle soul... well-meaning... I cannot allow him to be the source of an international incident. Not to mention whatever misery he’s enduring at the hands of the pirates. Their correspondence with my uncle is threatening but I don’t think they are cutting off body parts and feeding them to sharks. Yet.”
“That sounds accurate,” Isobel said, thinking for a moment. “Honestly, the pirates could have simply been bored. They are, after all, pirates. It’s a dying art, and someone must uphold the traditions.”
Jason snorted and tapped the notebook against his knee. He was just about to ask her about the size and speed of the pirates’ ship when they heard footsteps on the path in front of them.
Jason went still and held up a hand.“Shhh.”
