It was such an easy bet to win - just shoot the apple of his son's head and win land, wealth and the sevices of one of the Tyrnat's concubines for the rest of his life. Lose and he would serve the Tyrant in his palace for the rest of his life.
Of course he took the bet - he was the best archer in the land - steady of nerve, eye and hand. So what had gone wrong?
William had heard of the Tyrant's magical powers, obviously, but there was a pledge not to use them until the bet was won or lost. William also knew of the strange sense of humour the Tyrant possesed, but the thought of losing had never crossed his mind, he was the best shot in the land, after all (until today), he reminded himself. He was at a loss to understand the failure.
'Oh, bad luck there', he heard the Tyrant say,'now come and sit on my lap "Wilemina" and let us discuss your new duties. Or would you fancy a double-or-nothing bet with your sons service the wager'?
