“Wow,” Kennedy drawled. “How old does that make old Upsalla?”
“Exactly.”
The taxi hadn’t moved. The driver now turned half around. “Mounds?”
“’S’cuse me?” Kennedy sounded aggrieved.
“See the mounds? The Royal mounds?” The halting English didn’t help.
“Yes.” Ben nodded. “The Royal burial mounds. It’s in the right area.”
They ended up taking a mini tour of Upsalla. Playing tourist, Drake couldn’t really contend with the circuitous route. And on the bright side, the Saab was comfy, and the city impressive. Upsalla was a university city these days, and the roads were crammed with bikes. At one point their chatty, but hard to decipher, driver explained that a bicycle wouldn’t stop for you on the road. It would plough you down without thought.
“Accidents.” He waved his hands at flowers adorning the pavements. “Many accidents.”
Old buildings passed by on either side. Eventually the city relented, and some countryside started to creep into the landscape.
“Okay, so Gamla Upsalla is now a small village, but was a big thing back in the early ADs,” Ben said from memory. “Important Kings were buried there. And Odin lived there for a time.”
“It’s where he hung himself,” Drake recalled the legend.
“Yes. He sacrificed himself on the World Tree whilst his Seeress looked on, and listened to every secret he’d ever kept. She must have meant a lot to him.” He frowned, thinking: “They must have been incredibly close.”
“It all sounds like a Christian confessional,” Drake ventured.
“But Odin didn’t die here?” Kennedy asked.
“No. He died at Ragnarok, along with his sons — Thor and Freyr.”
The taxi swung around a wide parking area before stopping. To the right, a well-worn dirt path led off through sparse trees. “To the mounds,” their driver said.
They thanked him, and exited the Saab into bright sunlight and a crisp breeze. Drake’s idea was to reconnoitre the immediate area and the village itself to see if anything jumped out of the woodwork. After all, with so many international arseholes applying their well-stroked egos to what could only be described as a global free-for-all, something should stand out.
Beyond the trees the landscape became an expanse of open field, interrupted only by dozens of small hillocks and three large mounds that lay dead ahead. Beyond this, in the distance, they spied a pale-coloured roof and another building to its right, which marked the start of the village.
Kennedy paused. “No trees anywhere, guys.”
Ben was engrossed in his notebook. “They’re not gonna hang a sign out now are they?”
“You have an idea?” Drake watched the wide open fields for any signs of activity.
“I remember reading there were up to three thousand burial mounds here once. Today, there’s a few hundred. Do you know what that means?”
“They didn’t build ‘em very well?” Kennedy smiled. Drake noted with relief that she seemed fully focused on the job at hand.
“Lots of underground activity in ancient days. And then these three ‘royal’ mounds. In the nineteenth century they were named after three legendary Kings of the House of Yngling — Aun, Adil and Egil — one of Scandinavia’s most renowned royal families. But—” he paused, enjoying himself, “it also claims that the earliest mythology and folklore had the mounds already there — and that they were ancient tributes to the earliest — original — three Kings — or Gods, as we would know them now. That’s Freyr, Thor and Odin.”
“Random input here,” Kennedy said. “But have you noticed how many references to biblical stories we keep getting from all these ancient stories.”
“They’re Sagas.” Ben corrected her. “Poems. Academic scribblings. Something that might be important — attached to the mounds are dozens of references to the Swedish word falla, and manga fallor — not sure what that means. And, Kennedy, didn’t I read somewhere that Christ’s story was very similar to one involving Zeus?”
Drake nodded. “And the Egyptian God, Horus, was another forerunner. Both were Gods that supposedly never existed.” Drake nodded towards the three royal mounds standing prominent against the flat landscape. “Freyr, Thor and Odin, eh? So who’s who then, Blakey? Eh?”
“Not a clue, mate.”
“Worry not, munchkin. We can torture the information out of those villagers if need be.”
They proceeded past the burial mounds, playing the part of three weary tourists for the benefit of watching eyes. The sun beat down hard on their heads and Drake saw Kennedy break her sunglasses out.
He shook his head. Americans.
Then Ben’s phone rang. Kennedy shook her head, already bemused by the frequency of family contact. Drake just grinned.
“Karin,” Ben said happily. “How’s my big sister?”
Kennedy tapped Drake on the shoulder. “Lead singer in a band?” she inquired.
Drake shrugged. “Heart of gold, that’s all. He’d put himself out to do anything for you without complaint. How many friends or colleagues have you got like that?”
The village of Gamla Upsalla was picturesque and clean, a few streets of land-locked, high-roofed buildings, all hundreds of years old, well-preserved and sparsely populated. The occasional villager regarded them with curiosity.
Drake headed for the church. “Local vicars are always helpful.”
As they approached the porch, an old man wearing ecclesiastic robes all but ran them down. He paused in surprise.
“Hej. Kan jag hjalpa dig?”
“Not sure about that, mate.” Drake gave his best smile. “But which one of them mounds over there belongs to Odin?”
“English?” The priest spoke the world well, but struggled to understand. “Vad? What? Odin?”
Ben stepped forward and drew the vicar’s attention to the royal mounds. “Odin?”
“See.” The old man nodded. “Yes. Umm. Storsta…” He struggled to find the word. “Big.”
“The biggest?” Ben held his hands wide apart.
Drake smiled at him, impressed.
“Figures.” Kennedy started to turn away, but Ben had one last question.
“Falla?” He mouthed wonderingly at the vicar, and exaggerated a shrug. “Or manga fallor?”
It took a while, but the answer when it came, chilled Drake to the bone.
“Traps… many traps.”
NINE
Drake followed Ben and Kennedy towards the largest of the royal mounds, making a play of adjusting the straps on his backpack so that he could calmly survey the area. The only cover was about a mile beyond the smallest barrow, and for a second he thought he saw movement there. Quick movement. But further scrutiny revealed nothing more.
They paused at the foot of Odin’s barrow. Ben took a breath. “Last one to the top’s gonna get some shit on my Facebook page!” he cried out, setting off in a hurry. Drake followed more serenely, and smiled at Kennedy walking just that little bit faster than him.
Underneath, he started to grow more and more agitated. This did not sit well with him. They were hopelessly exposed. Any number of high-powered rifles could be tracking them, crosshairs steady, just awaiting the order. The wind whistled loudly and snapped at his ears, increasing his sense of exposure.