Doctor Who_ The Myth Makers Part 10

A sort of convention, I suppose it is.

And, do you know, it more or less worked? Because Odysseus didn't actually kill me: he put out my right eye with a marlin-spike, instead! And then he laughed just to show that everything was all right, really.

'Sorry,' he said, 'my hand slipped. So you like the Trojans, do you? Well now, my little Cyclops, you'll just have to learn to take a more one-sided view of things, won't you?'

And then, I'm afraid, I fainted.

19.

A Council of War Of course, after the lapse of forty-odd years, I can afford to take a rather less jaundiced view of the matter than I did at the time.

Now, I suppose I must admit that the whole thing was largely my own fault: I should never have said that I quite liked the Trojans! Simply asking for it. Because one of the traditions of war is that you have to believe the enemy are fiends incarnate.

And anyone who takes the opposite view is not only on their side, but a bounder and a cad into the bargain. In fact, why Odysseus didn't kill me I shall never know: but perhaps he thought he had. After all, that sort of wound can often be fatal especially when delivered without proper surgical care.

I like to think that the Doctor made some sort of protest, however ineffectual; and no doubt he did. But there wasn't a lot he could actually do do, without getting the chop himself. Quite!

Yes, I can understand that now now. But at the time I was... well, sour, about the whole episode.

'That's what you get for trying to do someone a good turn!'

I thought, as I came to, some hours later. I was lying in the scuppers, where Odysseus had obviously kicked me, not wanting bleeding corpses cluttering up the deck. To add to my pleasure, I was covered in fish-scales and crabs' legs, and other marine bric-a-brac of a more or less noisome nature; and I suppose I should mention in pa.s.sing that I was in the most excruciating pain I had ever known or had believed was generally available outside the nethermost circle of Hades! No point in going on about it: but I tell you, I wanted to die, and was very sorry to find I hadn't. That's That's what it was like so I'll trouble you to bear the fact in mind, if you think I'm being altogether too flippant. what it was like so I'll trouble you to bear the fact in mind, if you think I'm being altogether too flippant.

In any case, as I say, it was all a very long time ago.

But to resume: it was dark by now, Zeus be praised; except where a lantern illuminated the Doctor's designing board, and a selection of brooding evil-looking faces. Because Odysseus had obviously sent out the formal invitations as arranged; and Agamemnon and Menelaus were now among those present. A couple of death's head moths were fooling about in the lamp-light, I remember. All very well for them, I thought but somehow ominous, all the same. Not that I go much on signs and portents as a rule but you know what I mean.

The genial host was excited as a schoolboy, and busy explaining the whole horrendous scheme to his dubious guests.

'I tell you, it's revolutionary,' he was saying, 'war will never be the same again!'

'Show them the working-drawings, Doctor. There! What do you make of that?'

Understandably, no one seemed very impressed at the outset and you couldn't blame them. Surprisingly, Menelaus was the first to venture a diagnosis.

'It's a horse,' he said, 'isn't it?'

'Well done, Menelaus,' said Odysseus, patronisingly. 'Now, come on what sort sort of a horse?' of a horse?'

Menelaus tried again: 'A big big horse?' horse?'

'Precisely. A very very big horse. A horse at least forty feet high!' big horse. A horse at least forty feet high!'

'But,' objected Menelaus, 'they don't grow that big do they? I mean, not even that Great Horse of Asia the Trojans worship.'

'Ah, now now you're beginning to get the point! They you're beginning to get the point! They don't don't grow that big. The Great Horse of Asia doesn't exist. That's why we're going to build one for them as a sort of present!' grow that big. The Great Horse of Asia doesn't exist. That's why we're going to build one for them as a sort of present!'

'Go on,' said Agamemnon, his slow brain stirring in its sleep.

The Doctor took over the sparkling exposition: 'We build it of wood, and we build it hollow. And what's more we build it as quickly as possible, so as to rescue my friends. And then we fill it with a picked team of your best warriors.'

'I'm with you so far. What next?'

'Why, the rest of you take the fleet, and you sail away!'

Menelaus lit up a bit at that. 'Marvellous!' he said. 'A first rate idea! Oh, yes I like it very much!'

'And then, after dark, you sail back again.'

Menelaus subsided. 'Why is there always a catch?' he grumbled. 'No, I'm afraid I've gone off it now!' But n.o.body cared what Menelaus thought.

'Now,' said Odysseus, 'we come to the difficult bit. Because someone has to winkle Achilles out of his tent for long enough for him to take his Myrmidons, and hide out there in the plain.

As a covering force,' he explained patiently, before anyone could ask him why.

'But I thought you said that the best warriors were going to be inside the horse?' objected Agamemnon, rooting about in his beard, where something had come to his attention.

'So they will be,' agreed Odysseus; 'I shall be there with my Ithacans. Oh, yes, and and the Doctor, of course.' the Doctor, of course.'

The Doctor leaped like a gaffed salmon. 'That wasn't part of the plan!' he objected.

'It is now. I've just thought of it. Don't you want to be on hand, to rescue your friends?'

'Yes, of course. But can't I join you later? I'm afraid I should only be in the way...'

'You'd better not be, that's all. No, Doctor, I prefer to keep my eye on you. And then the rest is up to the Trojans. They see we've all gone home, or so they think; and naturally a.s.sume it's the Great Horse which has driven us away. So they dance around it like maniacs; cover it with garlands, I should think; and then they drag it into the city!'

'Are you sure they do?' enquired Agamemnon, not unreasonably. 'Suppose they set fire to it? In my experience, you never know what what those d.a.m.n' fellows are going to do...' those d.a.m.n' fellows are going to do...'

'That is a calculated risk,' said the Doctor, 'but I've given the matter some thought, and they'd hardly destroy one of their own G.o.ds, would they?'

'All right but once they've got the horse inside, won't they close the gates again?'

'Oh, dear,' sighed Odysseus. 'Yes, Agamemnon, old war lord, of course they will. But during the night, my men will leave the horse and open them again, won't they? Thus, if you follow me closely, letting the rest of you in. Nothing could be simpler,'

he concluded triumphantly, rolling up the battle plan.

Well, of course it couldn't: provided, that is, the Trojans were working from the same script! But I'd heard enough to be going on with: and while they were all busy, slapping each other on the back, and saying how clever they were, I dragged my bleeding remains over the bulwarks; and, sobbing and stumbling, I set out for Troy once more.

20.

Paris Stands on Ceremony A silly thing to do, you may think but remember, I wasn't reasoning too clearly at that time: and the only thought in my throbbing head was that if Vicki and Steven had to wait for the doctor to get his ridiculous horse built before they were rescued, what was left of them might not be worth the effort. So I trudged back across that d.a.m.n' plain keeping a wary look-out, with my remaining eye, for the beasts of the field; because a jackal or so had picked up my blood-trail, and were following along, nudging each other and chuckling in antic.i.p.ation. Well, one can cope with jackals but one doesn't want lions, or things of that nature; and in those days there were a good few of them about.

So, as I say, I was careful.

And just as well, too because I nearly trod on my old friend Paris, who was sensibly taking a little time out from war, under a hibiscus bush.

'h.e.l.lo, again,' he said, 'so there you are. I was wondering where you'd got to. What on earth's that on your face?'

I told him it was probably the remains of my eye and explained as much of the circ.u.mstances as seemed advizable, without mentioning the Doctor, of course. He was most sympathetic; and, as far as he could without proper facilities, helped me to clean up the mess. As I say, he was a decent enough chap at heart I doubt if his sister would have done as much; probably made some crack about blind Fate, or something equally tactless.

But even so, I wasn't going to tell him about the Trojan horse not while it remained the only chance of getting the Doctor's friends back and as he babbled resentfully away about how he'd always wanted to be a shepherd, and how difficult his father could sometimes be, I managed to gather just what had happened after I left the royal apartments. Apparently Steven and Vicki hadn't been killed outright; so that was encouraging for them.

Now, remember that what follows is the story as I had it from Paris, out there on the plain that night, with the jackals yapping about us, and birds of ill-omen shouting the odds and by Zeus, I wish I'd paid more attention to them! so you mustn't be surprised if he comes out of it rather well.

Ca.s.sandra, you will recall, had just launched one of her well-known and popular diatribes culminating in a death-wish; at which point I had held it tactful to withdraw my brooding presence from the proceedings. But Paris, if we are to believe him, stepped forward as angrily and boldly as a boa-constrictor about to be robbed of its breakfast.

'Since when have you given orders to the military, Ca.s.sandra? Guards put up your weapons! I am in command here!'

'Of everything but your senses, it seems,' she sneered.

'It pleases you to make frivolous observations? So be it.

Nevertheless, since Hector's death, I am officer commanding all Trojan forces in the Middle East; and I will not tolerate interference from a fortune-teller of notorious unreliability!'

That shook her. 'How dare you? I am high-priestess of Troy!'

Well, she was, of course; but apparently nothing could stop Paris now.

'Then get back to your temple, before you give us all galloping religious mania! I really cannot face another of your tedious tirades at the moment!'

The church's one foundation rocked on its heels.

'Father,' she appealed, 'do you hear him?'

Priam smiled into his napkin: 'Yes, it's most refreshing.

Perhaps there is a man lurking behind that flaccid facade, after all.'

Having got so far without being struck from the records, Paris went further. 'And I would be obliged, father, if you would refrain from patronizing me in front of the prisoner!'

Helen, of course, didn't say anything, but her looks spoke slender volumes. You could tell she was impressed. Priam, on the other hand, wasn't. 'The prisoner? Yes, of course, that's it!

One pathetic prisoner, and he thinks he's Hercules, already!

Success has gone to his head!'

'Before you start sneering at the prisoner, you'd better hear who he is. This is Diomede! Steven Steven Diomede, possibly but a lot of us have d.a.m.n' silly first names. And if you'll take the trouble to look in the Greek Army Lists, you'll discover he's quite a catch!' Diomede, possibly but a lot of us have d.a.m.n' silly first names. And if you'll take the trouble to look in the Greek Army Lists, you'll discover he's quite a catch!'

Flattered, Steven decided to take a hand. 'Which none but you could have caught, O lion of Troy!' he said humbly.

This went down like ipecacuanha after sago! The audience choked as one.

'Eh?' enquired Priam, rotating a finger in his ear.

'What was that?' demanded Ca.s.sandra, rotating in her turn, but through ninety degrees.

'Yes, I thought you might be surprised,' said Paris. 'Want to tell them about our little spot of sabre-rattling, Diomede?'

Steven delivered a modified digest of their late encounter.

'We fought; I was defeated; I am not ashamed. There is none in all our ranks who could stand against the wrath of Paris, when he seeks revenge!'

'You see?' Paris appealed to the company at large. 'I am treated with more respect by the enemy than by my own family!'

'Perhaps they don't know you as well as we do,' explained Ca.s.sandra, helpfully.

'On the other hand, perhaps they know me rather better,'

said Paris, imperturbably, knocking back a nectar in one, 'and perhaps the time has come, dear sister, to revise your opinions?'

'I am perfectly familiar with my opinions, thank you; and revision will not be necessary. And the first of them is that Cressida and Diomede have clearly met before: so how do you explain that?'

'My dear old entrail-watcher, how in Hades should I know?

But since Cressida says she pops about in Time as her whimsy wafts her, I should think she's met lots of people, haven't you, Cressida?'

'That's right,' said Vicki, rising to the occasion, 'of course, I have. Surely, Diomede, it was at the Olympic Games, last year?

You won the Pentathlon, didn't you?'