A strange misty cloud had formed in the corner of the room behind them. They had no idea how this cloud suddenly materialised or where it came from, but it always appeared – it was the gateway into the past. This time they knew it would transport them back to the year 1066 and they moved closer to peer into its shadowy depths, wondering where exactly they’d end up when they stepped inside.
Jemima bent down to retrieve the all-important key and fastened the chain securely around her neck, before turning to pick up Max. But there was no sign of the large cat and Jemima was annoyed to see the door standing ajar.
‘Oh no, where’s he gone now?’ she said, tutting crossly. She knew how much Max hated setting off on these journeys, and she wasn’t too keen on stepping into the unknown either. Well, he was jolly well coming with them, like it or not. Flinging the door open, she was about to go in search of the runaway, when she spotted him trotting back along the landing towards her, dragging something in his mouth.
‘Put these on me,’ he puffed, dropping his burden at Jemima’s feet.
She picked up the small horned helmet and coat of chainmail which had been made especially for him by the blacksmith in Camelot.
‘Oh Max, we haven’t got time for this and I’m sure you won’t be needing them anyway.’
‘I’m not going then. Put them on me or I’m staying here.’ He sat down on the floor, a stubborn expression set firmly across his aristocratic features. ‘If there are going to be battles, I want to wear my armour.’
Jemima gave a deep sigh. ‘Oh, all right. Just stand still while I do the straps up.’
‘Do we really have to go?’ he whined, as she placed the mini-helmet on his head, making sure his ears were tucked comfortably inside the horns.
‘We’ve got no choice,’ she whispered. ‘We’re off on our travels again and we’re all going, you included. We’re a team, remember?’ She scooped him up into her arms with a grunt. Gosh, he was heavier than ever with this lot on!
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