Doctor Who_ The Roundheads Part 29

'Ah, good day to thee, Ben,' called Winter.

Ben waved over at her. He looked pale and rather unsteady. Winter laughed and aimed a mock punch at Ben's stomach as he approached. 'Too much rum last night, my fine lad, eh? Well, 'tis uot every day we beat off a pirate ship is it now?'

Ben smiled wanly. 'No. Suppose not.'

He glanced out over the sea and felt, with a brief flush of shame, suddenly sick. He clamped his eyes tightly shut and tried to focus his mind on something else.

'How long till we reach London?' he said at last.

Winter shrugged and began to look through the telescope once again. 'We're making good speed. But there's no hurry now, is there?'

Ben shook his head. 'You mean because we got rid of Stanislaus's mob? Well, I know. But I'm still concerned about Pol and the others, even if England's all right.'

Winter suddenly stopped dead, the telescope tight against her eye like an arrow.

Ben noticed the change at once. 'What is it?'

'By Christ. I knew it!' whispered Winter. 'I've felt it in me bowels since I rolled out of that pit of a bed of mine this morning. There, Ben, do you see her?'

She tossed the telescope to Ben, who immediately jumped up to Winter's level and swung round to face the direction in which the captain was pointing.

At first he saw nothing in the gla.s.s but a circle of grey sea.

Then the image cleared and a small, dark shape was revealed bobbing on the horizon some miles behind them.

'Is it... ?' began Ben.

'It is,' hissed Winter, shaking her broad head in disbelief.

'The Teazer Teazer. By G.o.d, the Pole has the devil on his side and no mistake.'

Ben dropped the telescope to his knee. 'But the gunpowder... the explosion...'

Winter nodded. 'We must only have damaged her. And, whether we destroyed their precious cargo or not, Stanislaus will be out for revenge!'

Ben put the telescope back to his eye. The Teazer Teazer was moving steadily closer. was moving steadily closer.

The Thames lapped sluggishly at the little jetty, its ice-thickened water sloshing around the structure's rotting, weed-covered posts.

Looming over the jetty like a great blackened skull was a warehouse, nominally used to store salted meat and wine but, for now at least, the hiding place of King Charles.

Several rooms on the upper floors of the building were occupied by Sir John Copper's men and, while the King slept, they kept a constant vigil, aware that Roundhead troopers were combing the city in search of him.

Copper sat alone in the largest of these rooms, staring into s.p.a.ce and constantly fiddling with his beard in agitation. His eyes flickered from side to side as though he were weighing up some great decision.

At last, his solitude was disturbed by the arrival of Christopher Whyte, who came quietly into the room and sat down.

Copper looked up. 'Well?'

'Still sleeping,' murmured Whyte, avoiding Copper's eyes.

Copper shook his head and sighed. 'Does he not understand the urgency of the situation?'

Whyte did not reply and Copper changed tack. 'Chris, I had no choice.'

Whyte turned sharply round, his face flushed with rage.

'No choice? No choice but condemn an innocent girl to the headsman's axe?'

Copper held up both his hands, palm outward. 'We both deceived her, did we not?'

Whyte let his breath hiss from between his teeth. 'Aye!

Deceived her so that we could rescue the King, but you would have killed her!'

Copper nodded firmly. 'And because you prevented me, she will now give us away to Cromwell.'

Whyte shook his head. 'She will not. I know it.'

Copper gave a cynical smile. 'You know her so well, do you, Christopher? Under torture she'll say anything.'

Whyte dragged his chair closer. 'But what matters it if we are discovered? Surely now the King is free we can raise another army and settle this civil war once and for all?'

Copper rubbed both his thumbs over his weary eyes. 'Aye, if His Majesty would only see sense! He cannot remain in London, and the longer he does so the more difficult it will be to get him out!'

Whyte hunched forward, his clasped hands between his knees. 'What can we do?'

'We must prevail upon him to go. There can be-'

Copper stopped and looked around as he heard footsteps approaching. The door was opened by Moor, who immediately stepped aside, ushering in the little figure of the King, who stepped through into the dank, unpleasant room.

Copper and Whyte bowed low and Charles acknowledged them with a slight inclination of his head. He looked about, as though expecting a chair to be there for him, and Copper hurriedly gave up his own. Charles seated himself and placed his hands in his lap.

'We th-thank you, gentlemen for your most efficacious rescue of our person from Hurst Castle.' He glanced about with his sad brown eyes. 'And, though our present circ.u.mstances are not the most pleasant we have ever encountered, the air of freedom is no less sweet.'

Copper and Whyte bowed again and then the older man moved forward. 'If I may make so bold, Your Majesty?'

Charles inclined his head once more. 'Speak, Sir John.'

Copper shot a quick look at Whyte and then pressed on. 'I must urge Your Majesty to fly from the city at once. It can only be a matter of time before we are discovered.'

Charles nodded, 'Do you not think, though, that it would be far more risky for me to attempt to l-leave when the exits from London will all be guarded?'

Copper shrugged. 'Nevertheless, sir, it is a chance we must take.'

Charles did not respond and Whyte stepped forward. 'May I remind His Majesty that we did not rescue him from his confinement only for the Roundheads to recapture him and cut off his head!'

Charles looked Whyte up and down. 'You are very bold, sir,' he said at last.

Whyte bowed. 'Forgive me, sir, but I feel I must be. The situation is critical. We are confident that we can get you away to France and from there to a place where your security will be a.s.sured. Then we can set about invigorating the Royalist movement here. If they know their King is safe, they will surely rally once more to our cause.'

Charles looked down at his shoes. 'Your sentiments are very n.o.ble, sir. But would you have it said that the King fled his own c-country just to save his skin?'

Whyte flung up his hands in exasperation. 'Sir, if you die then our cause dies with you. Parliament will rule unchecked and never more will a king sit upon the throne of England.'

Charles held up his neat little hands. 'You must not concern yourself so over our welfare. There are... other plans afoot.'

Copper and Whyte exchanged glances. Charles opened his tunic and produced a piece of crisp, folded paper which he handed to Copper.

'S-Sir John, I desire you to meet a certain ship upon her arrival in the East India Docks tonight. The rest of my instructions are contained within that doc.u.ment.'

Copper glanced at the paper, which bore the royal seal.

'Your Majesty, I do not understand.'

Charles looked his saviours up and down and gave a small, tight smile. 'It is not always necessary to understand in order to obey. Is that not so?'

Copper hesitated for a moment before giving a small, unwilling bow.

'Your Majesty,' he intoned through clenched teeth.

'Now, gentlemen,' said Charles, rising, 'I shall keep my own counsel for the remainder of the morning. You must not worry yourselves. We shall forever keep your good works in f-fond remembrance. But you must be content to let us lie low for a while. Then we shall see what we shall see.'

He turned on his heel and walked to the door. To his surprise, it was not opened at once by a courtier and he stood expectantly for a second before Copper raced forward and opened it for him.

Without another word, Charles went out.

Whyte thumped his fist on the table. 'Perhaps his imprisonment has addled his brain,' he said bitterly.

Copper shook his head, 'No, no. He has something at work here. Something few others know about.'

Whyte pointed to the doc.u.ment and raised his eyebrows.

Copper pulled up a chair and reverently broke the seal, which disintegrated into fine red dust. He smoothed out the square of paper and rapidly scanned its contents. Then he looked up at Whyte, a look of shock and repressed astonishment on his face.

'Sir John?' said Whyte concernedly.

Copper licked his lips and looked back at the paper to confirm what he had read.

There was no mistake.

'The King,' he breathed. 'The King is planning to a.s.sa.s.sinate Cromwell!'

CHAPTER 9.

Narrow strips of light fell across the Doctor's face as he gazed out solemnly over the frozen Thames.

Hands gripping the bars of the window, he looked like some old ill.u.s.tration of a desperate prisoner. Although he wasn't feeling particularly desperate, he, Jamie, and Polly were most definitely on the wrong side of a locked door.

The discovery of the knocked-out guard had done little to aid their cause.

They had been taken with indecent haste to the Tower of London, dragged up its endless, winding stairs, and finally deposited in the small, bleak room in which they now resided, its ma.s.sive stone walls chilly to the touch, rivulets of brackish water streaming incessantly from the ceiling to the floor.

Jamie was struggling to sleep, while Polly sat cross-legged on the floor, feeling very sorry for herself, her long blonde hair hanging over her face.

The Doctor stepped back from the window and, noticing his companion, gave a small, encouraging smile.

'Cheer up, Polly,' he cooed. 'Might never happen.'

Polly didn't look up but continued to stare at the bolted door. 'But it did happen, didn't it, Doctor? I've messed everything up.'

The Doctor sat down beside her, heedless of the damp patch which immediately spread across the seat of his checked trousers. 'Well... not quite everything,' he said.

Polly looked up. 'I think so. I lost Ben, I got myself kidnapped, then I fell for those Cavaliers' tricks, end up freeing the King and incriminating you two so we all end up in the Tower!'

The Doctor frowned with mock seriousness. 'Well, now you put it like that...'

Polly grinned and poked him in the ribs. 'I know you're trying to make me feel better, Doctor, but it's pretty serious, isn't it?'

The Doctor cleared his throat. 'Oh, Ben'll be all right. I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later and they won't keep us in here for long once they think about it. Cromwell's too intelligent to take us for Royalist spies.'

Polly shrugged. 'That's as may be, but what about King Charles?'

The Doctor began to chew his fingernails distractedly.

'Ah, now that is a problem. He's due to stand trial on January the twentieth. There's no record of this escape, so we've got to get history back on its proper course.'

'Or else?' It was Jamie's voice. He was sitting up on the grim straw mattress and had been listening to their conversation for some little while.

'Oh, I've been through all this before, haven't I? You know what the consequences could be.'

Polly let her tongue trace over her lips thoughtfully.

'Doctor, have you ever seen any of these... possible futures?'

The Doctor frowned, almost pulling back from her. 'Eh?

What possible futures?'