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completely frustrated, still breathing heavily, and with the dull ache of unfulfilled desire in his groin. An even worse ache was that of doubt. Had she been only toying with him? Was it a game with her, to see how far she could go with her torment and then give nothing? He was angry, disappointed.
    As his anger cooled, he began to rationalize. He wanted badly to justify the girl’s behavior. She was desperate, he assumed, or she would never have approached a stranger with this sort of proposition. And, since she had only one thing to offer, it must be held in reserve until she was certain of the bargain. Seen in this light, her behavior was at least understandable, if not totally acceptable to him. His sympathy for her plight began to return. He hoped he could prove worthy of her trust.
    The ache of frustrated desire still remained, and he thought for some time of her promise. “Later.” How much later, and under what circumstances, he wondered. There were many unanswered questions here. He thought again of the warmth of her kiss, the feel of her body against his, and the seductive thrill of her breath in his ear.
    Restless, he rose and went back to the area near the fires, where the thinning crowd still laughed and sang, and wine still flowed. He did not see the girl, and the revelry was not thesame. Even the wine had lost its savor. Disappointed, he turned away.
    Back in his blankets, he was almost asleep when an odd thought struck him. He did not even know her name, the name of the blue-eyed goddess who had offered to share his bed.

4

    “W hat about the Skraelings?” Helge asked. Ericson and Karlsefni nodded and exchanged serious glances.
    “Yes, they can be a problem,” admitted the colonist. “We have been attacked.”
    Thorwald Ericson was more direct.
    “You have to fight them!” he stated positively. “Show them a taste of steel! Any Norseman is worth a dozen of these barbarians.”
    “But there are different kinds of Skraelings, different tribes,” protested Karlsefni. “Some are timid, and they run and hide. Some fight. Fierce fighters. You can’t lump them all together, Thorwald.”
    “They all bleed and die,” Thorwald retorted. “They must be taught that.”
    Karlsefni appeared to have doubts about this approach. He diplomatically changed the subject.
    “Where will you go from here?” he asked Ericson.
    “South, I think, along the coast. And you, Helge?”
    “We had not decided,” Landsverk answered. “What do you think, Nils?”
    Nils was looking at a rough map on the table.
    “Is this a bay or gulf?” he asked, pointing with a finger.
    “Yes,” Karlsefni told him. “The headland across the channel runs southwest. We do not know how far. It may be a large island, but it goes on for as far as we have explored. Odin says it leads to freshwater.”
    “Odin?” asked Nils, puzzled.
    Karlsefni chuckled.
    “Yes, an old Skraeling. He came crawling in last year, half-starved. It seems the other Skraelings were after him. Different tribe, or something. He’s helpful. Has a fair use of our tongue.”
    “He speaks Norse?”
    “Yes, some. Probably understands more.”
    “Why is he called Odin?” Helge wanted to know.
    “Oh. Someone called him that because he has only one eye. Like the god Odin, you know? The name stuck.”
    “But what is this about freshwater?” Thorwald asked.
    “Oh, that. Yes, Odin says this gulf leads to freshwater. A big river, apparently.”
    “You see?” exclaimed Thorwald. “A new continent!”
    “Have you been to this river, Thorwald?” Helge asked.
    “No. I’ve sailed down the west coast of this land, where we are now. But I think that’s the continent, over there. I’m going to see.”
    “Then you’ll go south?”
    “Yes. And then, west. You might want to look at this river the Skraeling tells about.”
    “Perhaps we will,” Helge pondered. “What do you think, Nils?”
    “It would help finish this map,” Nils agreed, pointing to vast