It was making him feel sick. Ugh! He felt terrible. He burped loudly and tasted rose hip again. He shut his eyes for a second. A weird noise invaded his ears; it reminded him of the peal a glass makes when you rub your wet finger around its rim. The sound quickly reached an almost unbearable pitch, and then there was nothing but clammy darkness. Nat felt a horrible sucking sensation in his stomach, as though he was being vacuumed out of the world, and then he felt nothing.

CHAPTER 11
THE KING’S WOLVEN

When it was light again, Nat slowly opened his eyes.

At first, his vision was blurred and the light was almost too bright to bear. He was uncomfortably hot and thirsty. He tried licking his lips to moisten them, but his tongue felt blistered and useless. Still dimly aware of the swaying motion, he plucked up the courage to look down.

He was no longer sitting on a chair in the safety of Iona’s gracious medieval hall: He was sitting astride a great big black horse!

Nat looked around him in confusion as his vision cleared. He was surrounded by other horses ridden by men who at first glance appeared to be wearing touristy British flag T-shirts and ski masks. What on earth was going on?

And no wonder he was so hot. Underneath his own England T-shirt was a weird metallic type of vest. His pants were made of the same stuff and his sword was chafing against his leg…. Sword? Then it hit him: By some powerful force of magic or hypnotic state, he had been transported back through time!

What Nat had mistaken for men in England T-shirts were living, breathing medieval Knights Templar, just like those in Sir William de Gourney’s chronicle. Nat glanced nervously to his left. The rider closest to him had been wounded. He was slumped forward on the neck of his warhorse, barely able to hold on. To Nat’s right, his neighbor wore a grim expression and a circlet of gold on his head. His horse was a stunning white charger and his shield a brilliant red with a gold design. It was the shield that helped Nat realize whose company he shared. For embossed on the gold and the red of St. George’s cross were three lions. Three lions!