King Harold was inspecting his troops on the eve of the Battle of Hastings, chatting with them a bit, trying to raise their morale, that sort of thing.

He went to the swordsmen first, choosing a soldier at random from amongst the ranks. "Do you feel ready for the battle tomorrow?" he asked.

"Oh yes, sire," the swordsman responded eagerly.

"Handy with that thing are you?" Harold asked, indicating the man's sword.

"Reasonably so, sire," the man replied. "Watch." He bent down, picked up a handful of grass, flung it in the air, and waved his sword about. When the grass fell down again, it had been cut into a neat line of soldier figures.

"Good work, man," said Harold, impressed, "and good luck in the battle."

"Thank you, sire," said the soldier.

King Harold proceeded to inspect the pikemen. "Are you looking forward to the battle?" he asked one of their number.

"Yes, sire," the man replied.

"Good with your pike, are you?" the King asked.

"Not bad," the pikeman said. "See that flock of birds?" Harold nodded, and the pike flashed in the soldiers hand. It went sailing through the air, right through the centre of the flock, and when it came down five birds were skewered on it.

"Well done," said Harold, "and good luck in the battle tomorrow."

He then went to the archers, who stood proudly with their longbows, looking intimidating even to someone on their side. "Are you ready for tomorrow's battle?" King Harold asked one bowman.

The man squinted at him a bit, then said, "Good Lord, it's the King! Um, yes I'm ready."

"What can you do with that bow, then?" Harold asked him.

"What? Oh, this thing? I dunno. Someone gave me it yesterday and told me to stay with these people here."

"Well... do you see that barn over there, about twenty yards away?"

The archer peered in the direction of Harold's pointing finger. "Oh yes, I see it," he said at last.

"Do you think you could hit that?"

"I think so." He lined himself up with the barn, grunting with the effort of drawing the bow, and loosed the arrow. It sailed past the barn, five feet too high and ten feet to the left.

"Did I hit it?" he asked.

"Er, yes," said Harold, clapping him on the back. "Well done, and good luck."

Then the King turned to the captain of archery and said in an undertone, "Watch out for that man tomorrow, will you? He'll have somebody's eye out with that thing."