The Eighth Lost Tale of Mercia: Canute the Viking Read Online Free Page B

shake the strange morning from his memory, but
throughout the day, similar circumstances pestered him. After the
meal he supervised a group of Jomsvikings in their practice of
battle advances, and though they continued to obey his instruction,
they seemed to take longer than usual, and a gleam of rebellion
pervaded their eyes.
    As soon as he could, Canute sought out Tosti
again. He needed to confront Tosti about how the men treated him
today, but also ... he simply wanted to see him again, and
preferably alone.
    He could not find Tosti anywhere. He looked
until he had no choice but to start asking around, ignoring the
knowing smirks on his inferiors’ faces as well as he could.
    “He went hunting with a few others,” someone
told him at last.
    Canute felt both disappointed and angry, as
if Tosti avoided him on purpose. And perhaps he did.
    By the time the day was over and everyone
regrouped in the main hall for the night meal, Canute’s mood had
spoiled completely. A simmering temper, even more foul than usual,
had replaced the good spirits he woke up with. His head ached from
clenching his teeth and chewing violently on his food; he became
glad that no one would talk to him, for he felt that one more sly
word would send him toppling over the edge.
    Then Tosti returned.
    He did not sit down to eat, even though he
entered the hall with a group of his friends, who did. Instead he
caught Canute’s eye from afar and cocked his head towards the exit.
Canute, who was already half-standing, threw down his scraps and
followed him out. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that
almost the entire hall was watching him. None of that seemed to
matter so much as seeing Tosti again.
    Outside he slid to a stop, looking every
which way for the hasty fellow. He saw a trail in the grass and
hurled himself around the corner, hands curling into angry fists
before he caught sight of his prey.
    “Canute, listen—”
    Canute grabbed his shoulders and thrust him
against the wooden planks of the hall. He wouldn’t let Tosti run
away this time. Tosti grunted but lifted his hands in
surrender.
    “ What did you tell them?” cried
Canute, sounding more hurt than angry, which was not what he’d
intended.
    “I told them ... what happened.”
    A trembled weakened Canute’s grasp. His gaze
drew to Tosti’s plump lips, even though he should have been looking
Tosti in the eye, measuring his sincerity. “Why?”
    “Don’t know. I wanted to hear what they ...
thought of it, I guess.”
    Canute’s hands slipped from Tosti’s
shoulders, his grip becoming a light caress. He stepped closer, as
if to entrap Tosti with his own body. His voice lowered further.
“All that matters is that they respect you. Beyond that, you
shouldn’t care what they think.”
    “Don’t you? ”
    Canute wanted to say “Of course not.” He
wanted to scoff and kiss Tosti again, to embrace him, to press
against him completely. Instead, he felt the presence of the
Jomsvikings nearby like the heat of a fire. He turned his head
slightly, and stiffened at the sight of dozens of them, lingering
near the exit of the main hall and shamelessly watching the two men
together.
    Involuntarily, Canute drew away. And as soon
as he did, he flushed with shame. He had just demonstrated the
truth to Tosti, without ever saying a word.
    When he looked to Tosti again, however, he
found the young Jomsviking’s face soft with empathy. “Canute.” He
grabbed Canute’s shoulder with a firm hand. “I want to show you
something.”
    “Show me what?”
    “Something … something that made me feel
better. See … I was a Christian, yesterday. I didn’t want to do
something forbidden. But I found something today … a sign from our gods.”
    Canute frowned. He did not care for
surprises. “What is it?”
    “You’ll see.”
    The Viking prince looked uncertainly at their
growing crowd.
    “Let them see, too,” said Tosti. “You will be
glad they did.”
    This made him even more