Doctor Who_ Byzantium! Part 33

Barbara, meanwhile, was pleased to see Dorcas and Tobias with the group of Christians who had accompanied the Doctor.

'We wish you every success in that which you seek,'

Dorcas told her as the Doctor said his goodbyes to James and Daniel.

Barbara merely repeated what Ian had told Dorcas and Tobias some days earlier: that the Christians would be free one day.

'If anyone else had stated such opinion as fact, I should have laughed in their face,' Dorcas said with a wry smile. 'But with you, I sense that what you say is preordained. It shall shall come to pa.s.s.' come to pa.s.s.'

They left their Christian friends and began the long walk to the desert road, and the next town on the Via Egnatia. 'All roads lead to Rome, they say,' the Doctor told his friends.

'That is probably not true, but this this one certainly does.' one certainly does.'

After they had walked for several miles, and the waving figures of James, Daniel, Dorcas and Tobias were distant specks against the horizon, Ian felt compelled to ask the Doctor a question. 'Do you think that we have left Byzantium a better or a worse place?' He paused and tried to put into words a feeling that he had been unable to shake. 'Is it just me, or didn't we solve anything?'

'Who knows?' asked the Doctor at last, as they headed out into the desert. 'Not every story has a happy ending you know...'

Chapter Thirty-Four.

... And Miles to Go Before We Sleep

And they went forth, and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. signs following.

Mark 16:20

'I had a really freaky dream last night,' Ian Chesterton said, as he poked the embers of the smouldering lire with his stick and made the sparks from it leap into the chilly night air. 'It was all mixed-up confusion, you know? I owned a Ford Anglia which is, in itself, ridiculous because I'd never buy Ford again after the last time. And I drove us all the way to Rome. But we crashed when we got there and I hurt my head. And we met a lion tamer. Then, afterwards, I went to a party in South Kensington with Keith Joseph and Sir Alec Douglas-Home and the Beatles. Alma Cogan was doing the twist on top of the piano with Brian Epstein. And then there was this annoying little pipsqueak, I used to go to school with, called Perryman or something, who asked me what I'd done with my life. He said he worked as a book reviewer on some provincial rag. Proud of it, he was. So, I said, "Well I get to travel in time, you pleb." Then I woke up in a cold sweat.'

There was a momentary silence around the fire. No one quite knew what to say next.

The sparks of flame thrown up from the tire briefly joined the light of the stars over the desert before their moment of dazzling brilliance was over and they perished and died.

'Our life in microcosm,' Barbara finally added, pithily. Ian wasn't certain if she was talking about the dream or the fire.

'The party sounds rather good,' said Vicki. 'I wish I'd been invited. Who's Alma Cogan by the way?'

As the Doctor's friends fell about laughing and the rest of the tribesmen with them scratched their heads and wondered what their strange new travelling companions were talking about, he remained silent, a grim and determined expression on his face. What the future held for them all, now was an unsolved mystery. Their destiny was no longer to be found in the stars, to be sought by the light of distant and magical suns. Rather, it lay along a dusty and ramrod-straight road, the Egnatian Way, guided by a single sun and moon. Earth's sun. Earth's moon. One led them far across the barren, sandy desert by day. The other kept a safe watch over them during the bone-chilling nights.

The TARDIS crew were three days into their journey.

Ahead of them lay another one thousand miles of potential treachery and danger, without even the certainty that the TARDIS would be there waiting for them when they finally arrived in Rome.

It was turning into quite an unpredictable adventure and it would get a good deal more strange and dangerous before it was finally over, the Doctor was certain of that.

'Regrets?' Barbara asked him, sensing that the answer would reveal much about this mysterious old man.

Because, if the truth were told, while both Ian and Barbara had travelled with the Doctor for what seemed like a lifetime, neither really knew him. They never knew how he was reacting inside to the things that they saw and the people that they met.

And, she thought, it's unlikely that we ever will.

'No, not really,' replied the Doctor. 'Oh, I'm certain that if we had never come here, we would have found somewhere equally complicated and dangerous to visit. Somewhere for Chesterton to get himself into a positive heap of trouble. Isn't that what being a nomad is all about? Ask these people,' the Doctor continued, sweeping an arm towards their new companions. 'I'm sure they will tell you a thing or two about what it is like to have no fixed or permanent abode. To travel only by the position of the stars and to be constantly searching for a place to call your "home".'

They sat around a camp fire in the Thracian twilight with the Bedouin who had allowed the former TARDIS crew to join them as they trekked across the vast open s.p.a.ces of the northern Mediterranean. Towards Rome.

Towards destiny.

The Bedouin were interesting people with an insular view of the world and a fierce loyalty to each other and to the concept of 'family'. They spoke seldom, and then only in short, monosyllabic bursts. But they shared their food and their tents with the Doctor and his companions and asked only that they share the stories of their lives with them.

History and destiny were important to these people, clearly.

Now it was Ian's turn: '... so, there I was, stuck in the praefectus praefectus's villa, surrounded by enemies. I couldn't relax tor a single moment. I was a p.a.w.n in a game.'

'Oh, I know the feeling, believe me,' Barbara told him. 'And what of Vicki?'

By the light of the fire, it was difficult to tell if the girl's face was really as red as it appeared to be. She didn't speak for a long time. Just as she hadn't said more than five words about her time in Byzantium, since they'd left the city.

'Vicki...?'

'I was thinking about those poor people,' she told her companions. 'All of them. It's a rotten life they've got, isn't it?

And what rewards do they get at the end of it?'

'That,' replied the Doctor, 'is a question to which none of us know the answer. More's the pity.'

Vicki stood up suddenly and, without a word, ran from the fireside and into the desert. Barbara moved to follow her but the Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder.

'Let the girl go, my dear. She's been through a lot. What she doesn't need right now is a lot of fussing and falling about. She'll return soon enough.'

'She might get lost,' Barbara said, worriedly.

'The light of the fire will guide her back. It will be seen for miles. Let her be, Barbara. I'm afraid she's discovered a painful lesson about life.'

'Which is?' asked Ian.

'That growing up is a hard and lonely business,' said the Doctor as though he was speaking from personal experience.

'What are you looking at?' he chided Ian. 'Think I don't know what it's like, hmm? I've forgotten more than you'll ever know.'

'I don't doubt it,' replied Ian.

The long shadows, of night crossed the Doctor as the fire flickered, stirred briefly by a gust of wind that rippled across the face of the desert. 'l never thought that I would see you all again,' he told his friends suddenly. 'I just wanted to tell you both, and young Vicki too when she conies back, that even if we are marooned in this era for good, then I'm pleased that we are at least together.'

Ian and Barbara didn't say anything.

There was nothing to say.

'My only regret,' Ian ventured, 'is that I didn't say goodbye to Gemellus and Thalius and the general. They were honourable men, even if their methods were questionable.'

'I think we may try to get some sleep now,' the Doctor continued, a gentle smile of relief on his face as, in the half-distance, he could see the figure of Vicki emerging from the desert and walking back towards them.

'It'll be all right, Doctor,' said Ian, brightly. 'You'll see.'

'We have a long journey ahead,' the Doctor continued.

'And, at the end of it, a carriage to the stars awaits us.'

Epilogue.

Two Thousand Light Years from Home

And these signs shall follow them that believe Mark 16:17 Mark 16:17

London, England: 1973

Ian could hear s.n.a.t.c.hes of Barbara's conversation with Julia as he stared at another gla.s.s case on the far side of the hall.

'You must look us up if you're ever in Redborough,' the woman was saying, handing Barbara a slip of paper with her address hastily scribbled on it.' We're right next to Robert Lee's bookshop. If you get lost, just ask Mr Ameobi in the newsagents where the Franklins live.'

Ian Chesterton gulped at the prospect and kept his attention firmly focused on the short stabbing sword in the case in front of him. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the gla.s.s and instantly regretted his choice of orange shirt and purple kipper tie, bought on the recommendation of Greg Sutton from John Collier of Bond Street. 'Johnny,' he called, as his son stopped his frantic chasing of an imaginary friend and ran to his father's side.

'Look,' Ian said, pointing to the sword. 'What do you think of that that, eh?'

'It's so cool,' said Johnny, his jaw dropping as the light glinted on the sword's sharp edge. 'Can I have one, Dad?'

'Maybe when you're older,' said Ian, absent-mindedly as something on the sword's hilt caught his attention.

Two letters, carved into the metal, almost worn away by the pa.s.sing of time.

IC.

Ian read the display caption aloud, for his own benefit as much as that of his son.

A GLADIUS GLADIUS, the highly effective short sword used by Roman legionnaires in combat. The very unusual carved inscription identifies the weapon as belonging to a soldier of the 99th Legion, who occupied Biythria and Thrace (including much of modern Turkey). It almost certainly dates from the end of the first century AD.

Ian placed his hand on the gla.s.s that separated the sword from the outside world, as though he were waving a greeting to an old friend.

'Come on,' he told his son. 'Let's get back to your mother before we both end up in the doghouse'

'End of the first century AD?' Ian mused. 'It's nice to know something that they don't, for once, isn't it?'

'How's that, Dad?' asked Johnny.

Ian smiled. 'It's actually thirty-five years older than that.'

Every Day I Write the Book...

I think it was Kingsley Amis who said, 'There's little point in writing if you can't annoy someone with it'. The author would, as ever, like to thank many friends and colleagues for their invaluable help, encouragement and inspiration: the always-reliable Ian Abrahams (whose impressive feminist critique of The King of Terror The King of Terror has, I hope, been addressed here), Jinny Algar, Greg Bakun, Ness Bishop (for a couple of brilliant chapter t.i.tle suggestions), Wendy and Paul Comeau, Neil Connor (who fixed my knackered floppy disc-drive), Chris Cornwell, Andy Cowper, Martin Day (honest and appreciated advice as always), Rob Francis, Robert Franks, Jeff Hart (who named all the stars), Tony and Jane Kenealy, Theresa Lambert, Mike Lee and the rest of the Minneapolis has, I hope, been addressed here), Jinny Algar, Greg Bakun, Ness Bishop (for a couple of brilliant chapter t.i.tle suggestions), Wendy and Paul Comeau, Neil Connor (who fixed my knackered floppy disc-drive), Chris Cornwell, Andy Cowper, Martin Day (honest and appreciated advice as always), Rob Francis, Robert Franks, Jeff Hart (who named all the stars), Tony and Jane Kenealy, Theresa Lambert, Mike Lee and the rest of the Minneapolis CONvergence CONvergence posse, Mr Kimblew of Cambridge, Davie and Lesley Mclntee, John McLaughlin, Ingrid Oliansky, Lars Pearson, Mark Phippen, Tammy Potash (just posse, Mr Kimblew of Cambridge, Davie and Lesley Mclntee, John McLaughlin, Ingrid Oliansky, Lars Pearson, Mark Phippen, Tammy Potash (just lurv lurv that name), my editor Justin Richards and Sarah Lavelle at the BBC, Camilla Rockwood, Paul Simpson,Victoria Sorel (at least I can that name), my editor Justin Richards and Sarah Lavelle at the BBC, Camilla Rockwood, Paul Simpson,Victoria Sorel (at least I can spell spell 'Tegan', sweetie!), Kathy Sullivan, Suzie Tiller (a diamond of a proof-reader), my brother Colin Topping ('O' 'Tegan', sweetie!), Kathy Sullivan, Suzie Tiller (a diamond of a proof-reader), my brother Colin Topping ('O'

level expert), Jason Tucker, everyone at Gallifrey One (and especially my wonderful 'voodoo sisters', Suze Campagna and Diana Dougherty) and The Neutral Z one The Neutral Z one and my family (whose occasional, half-interested questions on how the novel was progressing led, more often than not, to blood-curdling if historically accurate descriptions of torture and crucifixion). I would, however, like to a.s.sure readers that, despite the evidence of bits of my last two novels, I'm not and my family (whose occasional, half-interested questions on how the novel was progressing led, more often than not, to blood-curdling if historically accurate descriptions of torture and crucifixion). I would, however, like to a.s.sure readers that, despite the evidence of bits of my last two novels, I'm not that that interested in graphic and s.a.d.i.s.tic cruelty... interested in graphic and s.a.d.i.s.tic cruelty...

Not forgetting, of course, Paul and Steady Eddie.

Inspirational figures, both.

Research, inevitably, played a role in the writing of this novel.

I would particularly draw readers' attention to several source works that helped to provide copious period detail: A History A History of Bri tain of Bri tain (Simon Schama, London, 2000), (Simon Schama, London, 2000), An A id t o B ible An A id t o B ible Understanding Understanding (International Bible Students a.s.soc., New York, 1969), (International Bible Students a.s.soc., New York, 1969), Atlas of t he B ible an d Christianity Atlas of t he B ible an d Christianity (Tim Dowley (Tim Dowley [ed], London, 1999), Backgrounds of E arly Christianity Backgrounds of E arly Christianity (Everett Ferguson, Michigan, 1993), (Everett Ferguson, Michigan, 1993), Byzantium, t he Empire Byzantium, t he Empire of the New Rome of the New Rome (Cyril A. Mango, London, 1980), (Cyril A. Mango, London, 1980), Everyday Everyday Life i n B yzantium Life i n B yzantium (Tamara Talbot Rice, New York, 1967), (Tamara Talbot Rice, New York, 1967), G.o.ddesses, G.o.ddesses, Wives, Wh.o.r.es and Slaves: The Role of Women in Cla.s.sical Antiquity (Sarah B. Pomeroy, New York, 1975), Istanbul, the Imperial City (John Freely, London, I 998), Jesus and the Zealots (S.G. Brandon, Manchester, 1967), s.e.xual Life in Ancient Greece (Hans Licht, London, 1949), The Dionysiac Mysteries of the h.e.l.lenistic and Roman Age (M.P. Nilsson, Lund, 1957) and The Roman Imperial Army of the First and Second Centuries AD ((L Webster, London, 1969). Plus the invaluable Discovery and History Channels and the gratefully acknowledged inspiration of Time Team, Robert Graves, Dennis Potter and Messrs Chapman, Cleese, Gilliam, Jones, Idle and Palin. And Copey, whose 'Use Me' is the best-ever song about Christianity. Check it out, drudes. Wives, Wh.o.r.es and Slaves: The Role of Women in Cla.s.sical Antiquity (Sarah B. Pomeroy, New York, 1975), Istanbul, the Imperial City (John Freely, London, I 998), Jesus and the Zealots (S.G. Brandon, Manchester, 1967), s.e.xual Life in Ancient Greece (Hans Licht, London, 1949), The Dionysiac Mysteries of the h.e.l.lenistic and Roman Age (M.P. Nilsson, Lund, 1957) and The Roman Imperial Army of the First and Second Centuries AD ((L Webster, London, 1969). Plus the invaluable Discovery and History Channels and the gratefully acknowledged inspiration of Time Team, Robert Graves, Dennis Potter and Messrs Chapman, Cleese, Gilliam, Jones, Idle and Palin. And Copey, whose 'Use Me' is the best-ever song about Christianity. Check it out, drudes.

All quotations from The Gospel According to St. Mark are taken from the Authorised King James Version (first published 1611), which may not be the most accurately translated Bible ever printed (that's kind of the whole point), but it is the one that most readers will be familiar with and it's certainly one that anyone with an interest in the language of Shakespeare and Marlowe should read at least once in their lives.

Keith Topping Pons Aelii Britannia April 2001 (CE)