People believe all sorts of things that aren’t true. Like “Red”. Weren’t for his beard, I’ll tell you that.
Us, banished. Again. He didn’t want to tell me, either. That’s where the red came from. Him standing on the other side of the hide-door, shifting from foot to foot. “Thjodhild. I’ve got some bad news.”
“You can’t be murdering the neighbors. Have you murdered the neighbors again?”
Ever tried to cross the North Atlantic in a longship in September?
Not that I agree with the sentence, mind you. Fellow he killed was Eyiolf the Foul. Seems like he was doing the town a favor.
Anyway, Erik wanted to call it “Exileland”. Seriously. Hoping to build a colony in a brave new land by calling it a land of exiles. He never had no sense.
“What should we call it then, to bring back settlers?”
“Erik—you’re calling it Greenland.”
I couldn’t help having a little fun with the legend of Erik the Red by making his wife larger than life. Who knows what the real Thjodhild had to put up with, but I like thinking Erik wasn’t and Leif weren’t the only badasses of the family.