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

look at
him at all.
    “Tosti?” he said. His voice sounded strained
and cracked in his own ears, and he forced a swallow down his
throat.
    Tosti’s eyes darted to Canute’s, only for a
second, then his face flushed and he looked away again. “No room
here, Canute.”
    “I see.” Canute gritted his teeth, but chose
to quell his anger. Tosti felt uncomfortable, and that was
understandable enough. “This isn’t my place among you, anyway,” he
recovered.
    But as he turned and walked away, he heard
the boys behind him laughing again. He paused and considered
turning to face them, but decided against it, gripping his plate
fiercely and continuing to his habitual spot on the bench.
    His normal coterie sat in its usual place.
Their eyes flicked to him, then back to their plates. Soon no one
was looking at him at all.
    Canute lingered on his feet, struggling not
to fume. Once again, he wondered if he imagined the strangeness of
their behavior. Normally at a meal, he got his food, sat down, and
ate without paying much attention to anyone. He would simply listen
in on their conversations, interrupt when he had something to say,
and answer any raised questions. Perhaps he was the one
acting strangely.
    Instinctively this possibility disturbed him,
but he chose instead to embrace it. “Good morning everyone,” he
said.
    They all shifted uncertainly in their seats.
A few muttered “Good morning” back to him. Then an even heavier
silence resumed. Refusing to be perturbed, Canute sat down and fell
onto his meal with a smile.
    A long while passed and he got lost in his
thoughts, nearly forgetting the looming presence of his comrades.
But eventually one dared address him.
    “Canute. Psst. Hey.”
    Snapped out of his reverie, Canute responded
with a glare, then tried to soften his own expression. “Yes, what
is it?”
    “I asked if you had a good time yesterday
with Tosti.”
    “Yes. “ Canute studied the faces around him,
which were suddenly much too attentive. He pulled off some fish
meat with his teeth and chewed roughly. “Yes I did.”
    The men exchanged glances with one another.
Some seemed to be repressing smirks.
    “Is there something else you’d like to ask?”
Canute spat out a splintered bone.
    “Yeah.” The young man took a moment to gather
up his courage, while the other aspiring Jomsvikings encouraged him
with their eager stares. “Who’s the girl? You or him?”
    Canute froze. Laughter roared around him, but
not so loudly as the blood in his ears. He hadn’t expected this,
and he did not like it at all. The first problem was how everyone
knew in the first place. They would only know if Tosti had told
them himself. And why would he do that? Canute doubted it would be
due to pride, based on the behavior he’d already exhibited. The
second problem was that everyone did know, and if word got
around, Sweyn or Thorkell—or both—would be very displeased. Sweyn
would consider it sinful. The Christian God did not allow men to be
with other men. Thorkell simply … wouldn’t like it. But there was
yet a third problem, and that was the response of these men to the
rumor. Some Jomsvikings took pride in taking other men. Others
found it womanly. But these men clearly found the rumors laughably
embarrassing, and even worse, they’d grown cocky enough to flaunt
such feelings in front of him.
    The laughter grew louder, and Canute
struggled to contain his temper. Thorkell always told him to keep a
cool head. The longer Thorkell was away, the more difficult that
practice became. But he endured, and in fact he lowered his voice,
so that when he spoke everyone grew quiet in order to hear him.
    “I’ll buy you a dress,” he whispered, “and
show you.”
    The insubordinate Dane gaped and flushed.
Some of the men guffawed; a few chuckled uncertainly. But the
others only looked upset.
    Canute stuffed the last of his food down his
mouth, though he had lost his appetite, and left as quickly as he
could. He tried to