Europe, 1028
They dragged the whimpering and b****y youth through the double doors of the Great Hall and threw him at the feet of King Olaf.
“We found this wretch, boasting of the money he"d earned,” one of the burly huscarles towering over the grovelling youth said.
Olaf growled, shifting in his throne. He eased his great bulk forward and, taking a mouthful of ale from his flagon, cackled. “Another bribe from the wily Canute, no doubt.”
“He showers his money on any who might voice doubts concerning your highness"s legitimacy, sire.”
“Aye, well, he"s a mealy-mouthed bastard who has designs on my throne. But he"ll not have it.” Olaf pushed himself to his feet, took a step and stumbled. The huscarles rushed to his side, catching him by the arms. He swayed backwards, ripping himself free
