Doctor Who_ The Roundheads Part 41

Thurloe nodded then turned. 'What have you got inside there?'

The Doctor smiled and tapped the side of his nose. Then he opened the door just wide enough for Jamie and Polly to slip though.

'You aren't... going anywhere, are you, Doctor?'

The Doctor's head popped around the door. 'I'm waiting for Ben,' he said and disappeared inside.

The warehouse was stormed with minimal fuss, Roundhead troopers streaming through its twisted corridors and dank rooms. Cromwell was at their head with Ben close behind.

They found Sir John Copper and Christopher Whyte in a small room adjacent to the King's chambers.

'Rupert is fled,' said Copper with a smirk of satisfaction as the troopers led him away.

'But I have you,' said Cromwell. 'Take them away.'

Whyte put up no protest, simply staring into s.p.a.ce as he was hustled outside.

They found the King alone, sitting by the meagre fire, his sad face looking pale and resigned. He looked up as Cromwell stormed into the room, and gave a small smile. 'Sir, I am glad to see you looking so well. For I believed you dead.'

Cromwell's face twisted into a sneer of satisfaction. 'By your leave, sir, that state will shortly belong to you.'

He jerked his head to one side and the troopers lifted Charles from his chair. He did not look back.

Ben looked around. 'What about Stanislaus?'

Cromwell shook his head. 'He is fled. Gone the way of Rupert, may his bones rot '

'Sir!'

A trooper came darting into the room, his face flushed.

'What is it, soldier?' asked Cromwell.

'We have seen one of them, General. He's away across the rooftops.'

Ben's smiled triumphantly. Perhaps Sal Winter could, after all, be avenged.

'Master Jackson,' said Cromwell, 'we will supply all the aid you require.'

'Thanks, Oliver,' said Ben with a grin. 'But this one's mine.'

He drew his sword and dashed from the room.

Emerging from the warehouse, Ben looked frantically around for some sign of Stanislaus. The trooper who had brought the news raced to his side and pointed.

'There, sir, there!'

Ben followed his line of sight but could make out only the endless, snow-covered slates of the warehouse roofs.

Then he saw him. A tall, black outline, slipping and stumbling across the treacherous surface, trying desperately to reach the safety of a rickety black staircase.

Ben's head jerked from side to side as he hurriedly examined his options. He could follow the way the Pole had gone, over the back of the warehouse and across the roof. Or he could run as fast as possible to the staircase and cut the villain off.

With a nod to himself and with adrenaline surging through his veins, Ben clattered down to ground level and hared off towards the distant stairs.

He stumbled in the snow and slid across the cobbles, his backside connecting painfully with the stone. Cursing, he leapt to his feet and raced on, his lungs bursting and an iron taste seeping into his mouth.

Rounding the comer of the warehouse, he saw the staircase looming like dark rigging some hundred yards away.

Stanislaus had almost reached the top of them and was struggling over the slates, carefully balancing.

Ben tore down the alley that led to the stairs, the muscles of his legs seeming to scream with the effort, and threw himself into a drift.

He looked up at once, breathing heavily, anxious that the Pole had not seen him.

But Stanislaus was too busy trying to manoeuvre himself on to the stairs and didn't see Ben as the young sailor slid silently across the ground and settled himself on the bottom stair.

Stanislaus reached out and grasped hold of the black wooden rails that connected the roof to the staircase. With a quick glance behind him, he took a deep breath and swung himself over, landing agilely on the flat wooden landing.

He gave a smug smile of satisfaction and began to race down the stairs.

Ben was waiting for him only a few steps away.

Stanislaus reeled back in shock and then instantly drew his sword from its sheath.

Ben lashed out with his own sword, forcing the captain back the way he had come.

'Why do you haunt me, sir?' gasped Stanislaus, his blade clashing against Ben's. 'I... I have done nothing to harm you.'

Ben jumped up two steps, slamming his sword down. The Pole neatly parried and then thrust his sword dangerously close to Ben's throat.

Jerking his head away, Ben crouched low and kicked his foot into Stanislaus's stomach.

The captain yelled and recoiled, falling backward on to the black stair.

'I'm taking over from someone else,' yelled Ben.

Stanislaus hurled himself backwards, his shoulders sc.r.a.ping against the steps. He raised his arm and drove his sword hard through the air.

Again, Ben dodged the blow but the Pole hit back at once, his fist connecting with Ben's chin and knocking him back they way he had come.

Stanislaus tried to hop over him but Ben reached up at once and grabbed at the captain's ankle, twisting his foot so that he crashed down on top of him with a yell of agony.

'You fool!' hissed Stanislaus. 'You addle-head. Let me be!'

He thrust his arms forward and grasped Ben's throat, his thumbs closing on the windpipe.

The pressure made Ben gag and he struggled to sit up.

Choking, he lashed out with his hands but met only empty air.

Already he could hear a buzzing, crashing sound reverberating in his head.

Stanislaus's strong hands increased their pressure and Ben gasped for air. Then, with sudden jolt of energy, he brought his knee up and slammed it into Stanislaus's groin.

The pressure on his throat disappeared at once as the Pole fell back, curling into a ball and screeching in pain.

Ben leapt to his feet, swaying woozily, and tried to focus on the rec.u.mbent form before him.

He raised his sword above his head.

'This is for Captain Winter,' he cried.

Stanislaus looked up and, in an instant, scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it into Ben's face.

Blinded for a moment, Ben faltered and Stanislaus took his chance, gritting his teeth and stumbling back up the stairs on to the roof.

He had reached the landing when Ben came at him again, roaring with fury and jumping on to the Pole's back. Ben managed to get his hands around the captain's neck and brought him crashing to the landing.

Both winded, they struggled to their feet and tried to raise their swords.

'G.o.d d.a.m.n you, leave me!' screamed Stanislaus. 'Leave me!'

Ben shook his head, his lip and nose bleeding. 'Not while there's breath in my body,' he hissed.

Stanislaus backed away towards the roof, swirling his sword around over his head and snarling. His feet found their way on to the slates and Ben advanced, thrusting his sword forward.

Stanislaus parried the blow and hopped backward on to the roof.

Ben raised his sword. This time. But would he do it?

There was a deep, rumbling roar, like distant thunder.

Stanislaus looked at Ben, his sweating face pale and panicked.

There was a strange pause, as though time had suddenly stood still.

Then the snow on the roof began to move, slowly at first but building into a slide, the tremendous weight of the acc.u.mulated drift packing and rolling together with a loud, grumbling roar.

As it slid from the roof, it exposed the glistening black slates in a broad, rectangular trail.

Stanislaus flung out his arms in a frantic effort to keep his balance and avoid the treacherous snow beneath his feet.

He shot a fevered look at Ben and then down at his feet as the rolling snow ploughed into him.

He fell flat against the slates and dug his nails into them, panting and screaming with fear. Then the torrent of snow overwhelmed him and he rattled down the roof, his boots clattering against the tiles.

The snow covered him and thundered to the eaves of the warehouse, then, with a great, satisfying crump, it hurled him from the roof.

Ben looked over from the top of the stairs and watched as Stanislaus. .h.i.t the ground, his body smashing against the cobbles like a rag doll.

In seconds, the snow around him was stained a vivid scarlet.

Ben sat there for a long moment, feeling his heart rate gradually settle.

Then he sniffed and closed his eyes.

'There you go, Sal,' he whispered. 'With style.'

An hour or so later, Ben walked into the TARDIS, instantly rea.s.sured by the hum of power and the familiar white, roundelled walls.

The Doctor was busy at the console, fussing over the controls. He looked up as Ben entered and flicked the switch that closed the outer doors.

'Where's Polly?' asked Ben.

Jamie pointed towards the interior of the craft. 'In her room. She's a wee bit glum. Are you all right?'

Ben waved away Jamie's concern. 'I'm fine. What's up with Pol?'

The Doctor looked up. 'I'm afraid it's my fault. I had to ask her to betray her friend.'

Ben was startled. 'That Cavalier bloke? Is that how they knew where to find the King?'

The Doctor nodded. 'He told us about the plot to kill Cromwell because he could no longer stomach the King's methods. But he wouldn't tell us where to find Charles. I knew there was only one way to ensure history was put back on its proper course and that was for Polly to follow him to their hiding place.'

The Doctor shrugged apologetically, his lined face crumpling. 'There really was no other way.'

Ben sighed. 'I'll go and see her.'

He walked swiftly across the room and disappeared through the inner door.

Jamie walked up to the Doctor and patted his hand. 'We all understand, Doctor,' he said gently.

The Doctor nodded, his black fringe falling into his eyes, then he flicked another switch and the room was filled with the cacophonous sound of the TARDIS engines.

He sighed and stepped back from the console. Then he frowned, noticing a weight in the pocket of his frock coat. He reached inside and pulled out the little book that had been such a problem to them.

Smiling sadly, he placed it on top of the gla.s.s column at the centre of the console and watched it rise and fall, rise and fall, as the TARDIS made its way to a new destination.

John Thurloe and Cromwell sat in the former's chambers reflecting on the strange sight they had witnessed that afternoon. They had said farewell to young Ben Jackson and he had entered the tall blue box, just like his three companions earlier.