Free Runestone by Don Coldsmith Page A

it, too. He must ask him, when occasion offered.
    Nils had made a point of suggesting that Odin be utilized as a guide for the
Norsemaiden
. This would legitimatize his presence and furnish protection for the Skraeling. Still, he was not completely certain of the man’s motives. Odin had said that he wished to go home. Was there more? The possibility existed that when they reached Odin’s people…well, the Norsemen would be of no further use to him. They would be easy prey for the savages. That possibility now seemed less likely with each passing day. Odin was quietly cooperative, apparently trying to make himself inconspicuous. Gradually, Nils became less concerned about any deception on the part of the Skraeling. The man must be what he appeared, Nils concluded. An intelligent savage whose life had been hard, and who wished to return to his homeland.
    With mixed feelings, he thought sometimes of Ingrid, her blue eyes, angelic features, and soft body. Usually it was at night, when he pulled his robe up around his ears against the night’s chill. How that body could warm a man’s bed, he would think. He wondered sometimes if she ever thought about him, and knew that he would come for her. He tried to forget her reputation, and the fact that when she left her husband to go with Nils, there would be unpleasant talk. Well, let them talk, damn them all. He would make his own decisions. He had promised to help the unfortunate girl and was determined to do so. He would then drift off to sleep to dream of the warm kisses that held so much promise.
    It was early on the third morning above the Talking Waters that they first sighted evidence of human habitation. There had been a suggestion of smoke in the distance to the south on the first day. However, it thinned and disappeared so rapidly that Nils decided he had seen only the mists rising from the damp of the forest as the sun warmed the day.
    They proceeded slowly, seldom using the sail. The country was much as they had seen before, beautiful, wild, and with no sign of human life. Nils mentioned this to Odin. The Skraeling looked directly at him for a moment, the one dark eye staring, questioning.
    “But they are watching,” he said quietly.
    He pulled his cloak around him and turned away, to join Svenson at the rail.
    “Wait,” Nils started to call out. Then he checked the impulse. He would not go calling after the Skraeling in an undignified manner. Anyway, Odin would tell him what he wished to, and when. Nils rankled a bit at the situation, but decided there was nothing he could do.
    It remained this way, an uneasy standoff between the two, with Nils still feeling that the Skraeling knew more than he was telling. It doubly bothered him that Odin, too, seemed concerned. Today, he decided, he would have it out, and find what the Skraeling knew. If they were being watched, by whom?
    He was on the point of facing Odin with his demands when there was a cry from a lookout in the bow. Nils looked where the man was pointing. There, in a grassy meadow above the beach, stood three mounds, rounded and smooth, all alike and in a row. At first Nils thought this an unusual rock formation, but quickly realized that they were manmade. Huts of some sort? No, they seemed too small. He turned to Odin, who was staring hard.
    “Odin, what—?” he began, but the Skraeling interrupted.
    “Boats.”
    “Boats?”
    “Yes. Made of skins.”
    He offered no further explanation.
    Helge now ordered the ship to swing in to shore, and quickly selected a dozen men for a landing party.
    Nils was scanning the terrain for other signs of life, but all seemed quiet. He studied the boats again as the ship drew nearer. They appeared quite similar in shape and size, rounded, and flat on the bottom, and a dull gray-brown in color.
    It proved possible to bring the ship close enough to shore to use a plank. The heavily armed men trotted down the plank after Helge, and spread out to approach the boats. Even at