Free The Eighth Lost Tale of Mercia: Canute the Viking by Jayden Woods

 
     
    The Eighth Lost Tale of Mercia:
    Canute the Viking
    Jayden Woods
    Smashwords Edition
    Copyright 2010 Jayden Woods
    Edited by Malcolm Pierce
     
     
    *

     
    JOMSBORG
    1012 A.D.
     
     
    Canute’s palms sweated as he stood across
from his sparring partner. This was the most formidable opponent,
he suspected, that he had ever faced next to Thorkell the Tall
himself.
    They were of a similar age and height,
fifteen or sixteen years old, tall and wiry, though Tosti was a bit
broader in the shoulders and hips. His most incredible feature,
Canute deduced, was his incredible agility. Every part of his
body—all except his fierce silver eyes and unwavering smirk— seemed
to be constantly moving at every moment. His feet strolled across
the wet earth without leaving an indention in their wake. His
fingers fidgeted playfully along the handle of his wooden sword. He
tilted his head, back and forth, back and forth, as if to watch
Canute from every possible angle. The muscles of his bare torso
undulated in the diffused sunshine like rippling water. And all the
while, his long blond braids flowed along his chest and back, like
snakes writhing about his shoulders.
    Canute’s own fighting posture was the exact
opposite. He stood very, very still, his boots sinking into the
mud, one hand clenching his poised sword until splinters bit into
skin. Nothing moved along his pale chest but for glittering trails
of sweat. His blue eyes focused on Tosti through narrowed lids,
blinking only as his hair lashed against them, which made him
regret cutting it too short to pull back. But beyond this fleeting
thought all his concentration centered on Tosti. He tried not to
think about the group of young Jomsvikings watching them. He tried
not to think about the humiliation he would face should he lose
this skirmish.
    With very little warning at all, Tosti struck
with his wooden sword. Canute lifted his own to block, sinking his
weight deeper into his legs. He absorbed the blow and tried to
redirect its momentum back on Tosti. The wooden rods creaked as
they clashed, and splinters flew as Canute twisted, hoping to
offset Tosti’s grip. Tosti reacted quickly, shifting his stance
completely. He made another lunge with his weapon, and this one
swiped Canute across the side. He winced as the wood scraped his
skin, struggling not to move.
    “Get him, Tosti!” shouted one of the
onlookers, and a resounding cheer echoed him.
    Canute gritted his teeth, trying to ignore
this insult. How dare they? Though only fifteen years old, he was a
leader to these men in almost every conceivable way. His father was
Sweyn Forkbeard, King of Denmark and Norway. His grandfather was
the great Harald Bluetooth, founder of the Christian church of
Roskilde. His ancestor was Gorm the Old, the first king of Denmark.
His foster-father was Thorkell the Tall, the greatest and mightiest
Jomsviking next to his own brother, Jarl Sigvald. Canute’s own
brother, Harald, ruled as regent of Denmark while their father
harried the coasts of Engla-lond with Thorkell.
    But now was not the time to wonder how these
young men dared cheer against him. He would have to ponder that
later.
    Tosti continued to dash about the field,
hopping from one spot to the next as if he would win by dizzying
his opponent. Canute just glared, eyes flicking along with Tosti’s
movements, and waited for him to make a real advance. He took slow
and steady breaths, intent on gathering his energy while Tosti
wasted his.
    A bird flew through the sky, slicing the
glaring sunshine into pieces. Birds were often a sign from the
gods.
    Canute looked up.
    While Canute was distracted, Tosti struck
again—this time on Canute’s shoulder. Canute cried out, more from
rage than from pain, for the blow was not very hard. Tosti drew
back just as Canute tried to swipe back at him. This left him in a
vulnerable position.
    Tosti smacked Canute’s rump with the flat of
his wooden sword, as if with a paddle, then hopped