Given a choice between the pleasant life you knew centuries ago or
the possibility of all you want in an uncertain new world, which would you choose?
Two men torn through time find themselves in the modern but alien world.
Old enemies, one hunting the other,one discovering love, both fighting private battles to survive.
Book 3 of The Knights in Time Series
Ready for battle, Medieval English knight, Stephen Palmer, charges into the French enemy’s cavalry line. Heeding a warning given months before, he hesitates as he comes face-to-face with the knight in the warning. Struck down in the year 1356, he finds himself landing in the year 2013.
Grievously wounded, he’s taken to a nearby hospital. Confused by the new world surrounding him, he attempts to convince the staff he’s from another time, only to find they think him mad.
Rescued by friends, who, to his surprise, have also come through time, he must find a way to function in this odd modern England. He is quickly enchanted by the kind Esme Crippen, the young woman hired to tutor him. She too is enchanted by him. Tempted to deepen the relationship, she hesitates thinking him adorable, but mad.
He must discover the means for getting her to believe the truth, all the while, unknown to him, he didn’t come forward in time alone. The enemy knight has also traveled to 2013.
French noble, Roger Marchand, doesn’t question why the English knight who charged him hesitated. That fraction of a pause gave him the advantage needed and he brought his sword down upon the Englishman’s helmet hard, unhorsing the knight. He moved to finish the Englishman off when the world changed in a rush of sensations as he is ripped through time.
Seeking a reason for the terrible event, he enters a nearby chapel. There, thinking God has chosen him for a quest to turn French defeat that day in 1356 to victory, he sets out to find the English knight. The man he is convinced holds the key to time. If he returns to the day of the battle, he can warn his king of mistakes that snatched victory from them.
Stephen woke from the dreamless sleep groggy. Since the Frenchmen took him from the field, he’d lost all sense of time. Bits and pieces of events faded in and out of memory. He recalled at one point he’d tried to fight and they’d stuck him with a small spiked weapon. It hadn’t hurt, no more than a prick from a lady’s sewing needle. Then, he was floating and had the sense of angels lifting him.
Not angels but his captors.
The delicious scent brought him awake. He might’ve slept hours or days, he didn’t know. All he knew was the food smelled like fine fare and his stomach felt stuck to his backbone, he was so hungry. Those last weeks before the battle the army had run short of provisions. The knights had foraged for food along with their horses. The night before the battle he’d dined on overripe berries and dandelion soup. Soup indeed. Nothing but a handful of dandelion greens thrown into a kettle of boiling water.
“Is the food for me?” he’d asked, stomach rumbling.
A new man, one whose voice he’d never heard answered, “Yes.”
He attempted to rise but tethers kept him prone. His wrists and ankles were tied to the bed with padded cuffs instead of chains. A small but curious kindness.
“How am I to eat it tethered as I am? Smell alone will not get it to my stomach.”