It was the first of July 867 a.d. and Haroldson The Unready was trying to find his long ship. He was trying to think about where it could have gone. He would get shouted at by Cnut The Great if he didn’t find it. On the horizon, he could make out his ship. Someone had untied it. So that is why I am always last, he thought. How could he get it? Cnut, who was 38, could fight better than a Norman, Roman and Saxon. He was coming over. Haroldson knew what was coming. “Where’s your ship!” roared Cnut.
“I don’t know sir.” cowered Harroldson.