Doctor Who_ The Highlanders Part 1

DOCTOR WHO.

THE HIGHLANDERS.

by Gerry Davis.

1.

Where are We?

The TARDIS was slowly materialising in the middle of a clump of brambles and ferns. Finally, the burning motors died down, the door opened, and out jumped Ben, followed by Polly. Then the Doctor emerged, wearing his shabby old frock coat and rather baggy check trousers. Ben looked around eagerly. They were in the middle of a small overgrown hollow. The ground was gra.s.sy and very damp.

Ben used his arm to push aside some brambles to give the others room to get clear of the TARDIS.

'Here, Polly,' said Ben. 'Look at this. What's it look like to you?'

Polly, who was following Ben, stopped, shivered, and tried to prize away an intrusive strand of brambles which had caught her arm. She was clad in her mini-skirt and T-shirt, and it was undeniably chilly, especially after the warmth of the TARDIS's interior. 'It's certainly cold and damp,' Polly said. 'I don't think I like this place very much.'

Behind them, the Doctor looked around drawing his own conclusions, but as usual said nothing. He liked to have his young companions make their own minds up about the various strange locations the TARDIS arrived in.

''Ere, what's it remind you of?' said Ben, excitedly.

'Cold... damp. Where'd you think we are, Princess?'

Polly moved backwards and caught her thigh on another p.r.i.c.kly clump of brambles. She yelled crossly: 'How do I know? And don't call me "Princess".'

'Don't you see, Princess?' said Ben. 'It's England.

Where else could it be? What other country is as wet as this? What do you think, Doctor?'

The Doctor was listening intently. He motioned them to keep quiet and listen.

Ben and Polly became aware of a distant murmur over which could be heard the sounds of musket-fire, cries and shouts, and the boom of cannons firing.

'Cor,' said Ben. 'That proves it! It's a soccer match.

We've come on Cup Final night! It sounds like the Spurs'

Supporters' Club.'

'Shush, Ben,' said Polly, as the noise of battle increased.

There was a loud cannon boom which seemed to come from just over the next hill. They heard a piercing whistle, then, crashing through the trees at the end of the hollow and rolling almost to their feet, a black iron cannon-ball appeared. It landed only a foot away from the Doctor. He immediately turned and started back for the TARDIS.

'That's it!' he said, 'come back inside.'

Polly turned, disappointed. 'But if this is England?'

The Doctor turned. 'Either way I don't like it,' he said.

'There's a battle in progress not so very far away from here.'

Ben, meanwhile, was on his knees examining the cannon-ball. 'Hey,' he said, 'nothing to be alarmed about.

It's an old time cannon-ball. It's probably one of them, y'know, historical societies playing soldier.' He touched it gingerly and pulled his hand away, sucking his finger.

'Ain't half hot!'

The Doctor turned and looked at the cannon-ball. 'A ten-pounder. A little careless for an historical society to play around with it, don't you think?'

Polly, meanwhile, was taking in the gra.s.s, the brambles, and the wild flowers. 'Listen,' she said. 'I'm sure we're back in England somewhere. Look,' she pointed. 'Dogroses.

They only seem to grow in the British Isles. Can't we stay for a little while, Doctor, and find out what's happening here?'

'Well, I'm going to take a shufty over this hill,' said Ben.

'I'd advise you not to,' rejoined the Doctor.

Polly turned to him. 'Doctor,' she said, 'anyone would think you're afraid.'

'Yes, they would, wouldn't they? And that's exactly what I am. If you had any sense you'd be afraid, too. These things,' the Doctor kicked the cannon-ball, 'may be old-fashioned but they can do a lot of damage.'

Polly looked after Ben, who was now scrambling up the small rise at the end of the hollow. 'Come on, we can't let Ben go up alone, can we?'

'You two get me into more trouble...' began the Doctor, but Polly had already set off running up the hill after Ben, her long legs flashing through the undergrowth. The Doctor shrugged, took one more look at the cannon-ball and followed them.

If they had been able to see over the hill they might have been more inclined to follow the Doctor's advice. In the next valley a small group of Highlanders were fleeing from the Redcoats.

A few hours previously, the largely Highland Scottish troops of Prince Charles Edward, better known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, had drawn up their battle lines against the English and German Army led by the Duke of c.u.mberland, who were fighting for King George. What was at stake was the entire future of the British monarchy.

The English had been alienated by the autocratic Scottish Stuart Kings, and some forty years before had thrown them out of the United Kingdom, replacing them with the Hanoverian German Georges. Now Prince Charles Edward, also known as the Young Pretender and the latest in the line of Stuart claimants to the throne of England, had come to Scotland and raised his standard. He gathered together a large army among the Scottish Highland clans and marched south to take England.

The Highland army marched as far south as Derby, and indeed might well have taken over the country had they not lost their nerve at the last moment and retreated to what they considered was the safety of the Scottish glens.

But the delay was to cost them dear. King George and his supporters soon rounded up an army of English and German regiments, and even a number of Scottish troops loyal to King George who did not like the prospect of another erratic Stuart king on the throne.

The result was the battle known as Culloden Moor. It was an unequal contest right from the start. Despite the lion-like courage of the Scots, the iron discipline of the Redcoats and their deadly firepower wiped out row after row of the charging, kilted Highland clansmen.

Eventually, flesh and blood could stand no more of the withering musket and cannon-fire from the British and German lines. The Highlanders broke ranks and started to flee the battlefield.

The Duke of c.u.mberland gave the order to pursue the Scots and give no quarter. The British troops, angered at the attempted takeover of their country by the Scots, needed little inducement and chased the fleeing Highlanders throughout the Scottish Glens.

Among the fleeing Scots was a small group from the clan McLaren and their followers. Colin McLaren, the leader of the clan, was badly wounded, and was being supported by his son Alexander and the bagpiper of the McLarens, young Jamie McCrimmon. Beside them as they struggled through the heather, half dragging the tall, white-haired clan chieftain, was Alexander's sister Kirsty.

Normally a pretty, red-headed Highland la.s.sie, Kirsty was bedraggled, her face smudged with dirt, her beautiful red hair a tangled mess. She had followed her father and brother in order to see the expected victory of the Scottish Army. Instead, she had just arrived in time to witness a disaster. Now all four were fleeing desperately from the red-coated soldiers.

They hurried up a winding, rocky path, and turned a corner to confront two Redcoats, each with musket and bayonet at the ready.

Kirsty flung her arms around her father's neck and pulled him to one side, as Alexander drew his long claymore and leaped forward to do battle with them.

The first Redcoat lunged forward, his long steel bayonet stabbing towards the centre of the Highlander's chest.

Alexander was too fast for him. He jumped aside and with one glittering sweep, his great broadsword swept upwards.

The soldier, slashed from thigh to rib-cage, slowly collapsed back onto the heather as his companion aimed his musket at the Scot. There was a puff of smoke and a loud report. The musket ball missed Alexander's red hair by about an inch, and the Highlander raised the claymore again and sprang forward, yelling the McLaren war-cry.

The frightened soldier dropped his musket and with one startled glance ran back along the path.

When Alexander started after him, the piper, Jamie, called to him to stop. Alexander paused while the soldier scurried away over the hill. He turned back angrily. 'Why did ye do that?' he said.

Jamie turned. 'You're needed here with your father.'

'But yon soldier will be bringing back reinforcements,'

said Alexander.

'Then we'd better get out of here quickly,' said Jamie.

Alexander turned, looked down at the dead Redcoat at their feet, and nodded. He turned back to his father and helped him back on his feet.

Meanwhile, the Doctor and his companions were still trying to locate the battle. It was very frustrating. Over the hill the fog had really closed in around them. They could hear the sounds of the battle and, occasionally, there was a flash in the grey distance. But they could see nothing clearly because of the heavy mist.

'Do you know where we are yet, Doctor?' asked Polly.

The Doctor looked at her and shook his head.

'No, and if we go much further we won't be able to find our way back to the TARDIS.'

'Hey,' Ben interrupted. 'Look at this.' He was standing on a large rock at the side of the path they were following.

There, set against a dry stone wall, was a small cannon.

'What do you make of it?' he asked. The Doctor came up.

'That cannon-ball must have come down 'ere,' Ben continued. He looked down. 'There, look.' He picked up another similar black heavy cannon-ball. 'Exactly like the geezer that just missed us!'

The Doctor glanced closely at the cannon and sniffed it.

'I don't think so,' he said.

'But it is. Look, same size,' said Ben, holding up the cannon-ball. 'This gun hasn't fired for the last hour at least,' the Doctor said.

'Why do you say that?' said Polly.

'It's been spiked,' replied the Doctor.

Ben stared at him. 'Spiked?'

The Doctor pointed to the cannon mouth. 'It's had a spike hammered down inside to stop it being used.'

Ben looked inside the barrel. 'Yeah, Doctor,' he said, 'you're right. It's been spiked.'

Meanwhile, the Doctor was busy examining the inscription cast into the side of the solid iron of the gun.

'Here, Polly, you should be able to work this out.'

Polly glanced at it and read ' Honi soit, qui mal y pense Honi soit, qui mal y pense.'

'Evil to him that evil thinks,' she translated.

'We all know what that means, d.u.c.h.ess,' said Ben crossly. He always felt that Polly was a bit, as he put it, 'uppity and toffee-nosed,' and resented her parading her superior knowledge before him. 'It's the motto of the Prince of Wales, right, Doctor?'

'We must have gone back in time,' said Polly, disappointed. 'But when?'

'Well,' said the Doctor, 'I have a theory...' He stopped.

The others looked at him. 'But I'll tell you later.

Meanwhile, isn't that a cottage over there?' He pointed forward to where the mist had cleared slightly. Ahead of them was a small crofter's cottage sunk into the hillside, with a thatched roof, thick stone walls, one small window, and a solid-looking oak door. 'Let's see if we can find someone in there,' said the Doctor.

Ben and Polly started running down the path towards it.

2.