Doctor Who_ The Roundheads Part 5

A freezing fog was rolling over the banks of the Thames, lending its muddy, derelict embankment an air of unexpected romance.

The Doctor and Jamie emerged from out of the haze like spectres and, while Jamie shivered, the Doctor seemed inspired, gesturing expansively towards the unseen river.

'Such a majestic old thing, the Thames, don't you think, Jamie?'

Jamie threw a cursory glance towards the river. 'Aye.'

The Doctor sniffed and pulled a face. 'Of course, it pongs a bit. Always has.'

He turned to his companion but Jamie didn't seem to be listening. In fact, his face had a.s.sumed a rather solemn expression.

'Are you all right, Jamie?' asked the Doctor concernedly.

Jamie gave a little smile. 'Aye, aye.' Then he looked down at the snowy ground. 'Well, I suppose so.'

The Doctor put his hand on Jamie's arm. 'What's the matter?'

Jamie shook his head and avoided the Doctor's gaze. 'I'm not sure, Doctor. I'm just finding all this is making me a wee bit... giddy.'

'All what?' asked the Doctor, frowning.

Jamie shrugged, his boyish features crumpling into a hurt expression. 'You know. Travelling through time. It takes some getting used to, you know.'

'Of course,' soothed the Doctor. 'Of course it does. And you mustn't worry if you feel a little disorientated.'

He crossed his hands over his chest. 'There's a thing people call "culture shock". That's what you get if you're exposed to a foreign way of life totally different from your own.'

Jamie nodded.

'Well,' continued the Doctor, 'for us in the TARDIS, culture shock is more than that. We don't just visit different countries, we visit different planets, alien places that would make the most... the most boundless imagination reel.'

Jamie shrugged. 'Aye. It's not that though, really. It's just that sometimes Ben and Polly make me feel a bit daft. Like they've been at it for ages.'

The Doctor smiled. 'Oh, so that's it. I thought as much.

That's why I suggested we all split up. Sometimes people's little jokes can cut very deep, can't they?'

Jamie nodded silently.

The Doctor looked up thoughtfully. 'Mm, Well, they have been "at it" a little longer than you, Jamie. But not much. And things were very different when they first travelled with me, I can tell you.'

Jamie seemed cheered by this. 'Really?'

The Doctor chuckled. 'Oh, yes. Polly was just as unsure as you are. And Ben was such a headstrong fellow. Insisted I take him back to his ship because he'd be late. I kept telling him he was two hundred years early!'

Jamie laughed, his dark eyes twinkling.

'And it was all new to me once, you know,' said the Doctor, looking out over the fog-shrouded Thames. 'But that was a very, very long time ago.'

The Doctor's reverie was interrupted by a sudden burst of incoherent shouting and the unmistakable sound of a scuffle close by. Jamie whirled round.

'What's that?'

He and the Doctor ran through the snow drifts towards a knot of young men who were cl.u.s.tered together like spectators at a c.o.c.kfight. Dressed in the plain tunics and ap.r.o.ns of apprentices, they appeared to have a grievance against something in their midst and, at first, the Doctor thought it might be a dog, or even a bear.

As he came closer he realised with horror that the youths were attacking an old man.

They were taunting and kicking at his crouched form and he was gamely lashing out with gnarled old fists.

Without a second thought, the Doctor waded in, bellowing like a beast. His cloak ballooning impressively behind him.

With Jamie bringing up the rear, the young men began to scatter.

Jamie grabbed at the ankle of one of them and pulled him to the ground, then landed a punch on his jaw. With a yell, the youth slid away through the snow and scrambled to his feet, holding his jaw and looking more than a little afraid. This was enough for the gang and they took to their heels, leaving the old man in a heap on the ground.

'Away with you, you cowards!' cried Jamie.

The Doctor helped the old man to his feet and made a valiant effort to dust him down. But the copious stains that covered his clothes seemed to date from some considerable time before the fight.

'Are you all right?' said the Doctor.

The man looked at his rescuers and nodded his filthy head.

'I am. Thanks to you.'

The Doctor sniffed and wrinkled his nose as a wave of the old man's none-too-pleasant aroma washed over him. Fixing a cheery smile on to his face, the Doctor did his best to ignore the smell.

'What... what was all that about?'

The man pulled up his wretched stockings and scowled in the direction of the retreating ruffians.

'Royalist sc.u.m!' he spat. 'They set about me like a pack of wolves. You see...' He gave a conspiratorial wink and beckoned the Doctor and Jamie closer, something that neither was very keen to do.

'You see,' he continued, 'I caught them singing songs in praise of the King and I told them what I thought of them.'

'Oh,' said the Doctor. 'And then they told you what they thought of you, I imagine?'

'Aye, sir, they did. With their ruddy Royalist fists, they did.' He shrugged his shoulders, straightened up and held out a calloused and mud-caked hand. 'But thank you both again, sirs, for your help. I am Nathaniel Scrope.'

The Doctor cleared his throat and gingerly shook Scrope's hand. Jamie did the same but turned away, fighting the instinct to gag.

'I'm the Doctor,' announced the Doctor. 'This is Jamie.'

Jamie flashed his eyes at the Doctor in dumb appeal. 'Och, Doctor,' he hissed under his breath. 'He reeks!'

The Doctor elbowed him in the ribs and turned to Scrope, smiling sweetly. 'Tell me, Mr Scrope, what precisely did you object to about those men?'

Scrope sniffed. 'What I say. Isn't it obvious? They would have the King released and pardoned! As though the last seven years of slaughter had been but a dream!'

The Doctor nodded slowly. 'I see.'

Jamie looked at the Doctor and frowned, aware that he was missing something. Holding a hand across his nose in what he hoped was a subtle gesture, he turned to their smelly new friend. 'Aye, well, I reckon you could do with a little something to calm your nerves, eh, Mr Scrope?'

Scrope grinned. 'I wouldn't say no, my young friend, but it will be my pleasure to treat you to a plate of oysters and some ale a little later on. Just now, you see, I have important matters of state to attend to.'

Jamie looked puzzled. 'Eh?'

The Doctor smiled. 'Well, well, we shan't keep you.'

Scrope turned to go. 'Will you meet me here at seven, gentlemen? I know a local hostelry which will make us very welcome. Now I must away! Good day to you both and thanks once again.'

He shuffled away, in a cloud of stale vapour.

Jamie let out a long breath. 'Och,' he spluttered, 'where's the fellow been keeping himself? He stinks like a cow's carca.s.s.'

The Doctor chuckled. 'He's certainly pungent. But very entertaining.' He laughed to himself again and then came to a decision. 'You know what, Jamie? I think we'll meet up with Ben and Polly and then take up Mr Scrope on his kind offer.'

'Aye, I would nae say no to a little food and ale.'

The Doctor scratched his mop of black hair. 'He helped us get our dates right, too, did you notice?'

Jamie nodded. 'Aye.' Then he looked down at his feet and frowned. 'Well...'

The Doctor opened his cloak and retrieved Every Boy's Every Boy's Book of the English Civil Wars Book of the English Civil Wars from the pocket of his frock coat. from the pocket of his frock coat.

He scanned its pages quickly and then carried on blithely.

'Yes. Here we are. Now our friend said they'd been fighting for seven years. That means the Civil Wars must be over and they're about to put the King on trial. It must be some time in... 1648. December I should say.'

'But they'll no have sprigs of holly out, eh, Doctor?' said Jamie brightly. 'I remember that much at least. Those Puritans weren't so keen on Christmas.'

The Doctor toyed with the ta.s.sel of his cloak and stuffed the book back into his pocket. 'Oh, they've not banned it yet, Jamie. And it never did go away. Not properly. A lot of that is just propaganda.' He looked up and smiled. 'Come on. Let's see if we can find any wa.s.sailers!'

'Any what?' said Jamie.

But the Doctor had gone.

Parliament House was joined to a series of newer buildings which had been erected earlier in the century. Their black beams and white plaster contrasted sharply with the old stone of the main section but seemed nonetheless charming to Ben and Polly, who were skulking in a doorway close by.

Their wanderings had brought them to the square and they had stopped at the sight of the soldiers who had so nearly run them down.

Ben shivered inside his cloak and peered at the activity in fascinated bemus.e.m.e.nt.

'Ere, what d'you reckon's going on, Pol?' he said at last.

Polly shrugged, feeling the cold numbing her nose and hands. 'Search me. This is Parliament though, isn't it?'

Ben frowned. 'Is it? Looks different.'

'Well, that's because the one we know hasn't been built yet,' chided Polly impatiently. 'This one was burnt down.'

Ben grinned and gave a low whistle. 'You must've been a right swot at school, d.u.c.h.ess.'

Polly grinned and then returned her attention to the soldiers. She seemed deeply interested.

Another great shiver convulsed through Ben and he pulled his cloak tightly around him like the wings of a sleeping bat.

'It's taters out here,' he complained.

'Pardon?'

'Taters. Taters' mould. Cold,' he explained.

'Oh,' said Polly without much interest.

Ben felt a shiver run through his jaw and tried to laugh. 'I can't believe it. My teeth are chattering. I thought that only happened in stories.'

He turned to Polly and put his head on her shoulder like a tired boy. 'Can't we go somewhere warmer to look at the local colour, Mummy?'

Polly tutted at him. 'Where's your sense of adventure?'

Ben gave a wry grin. 'I think it's dropped off.'

She continued to peer ahead, her eyes and nose running with the cold. 'I wonder what they're up to. Looks like the soldiers won't let those other men inside.'

Ben hugged at his cloak again and this time heard a faint jingle. He looked down. 'h.e.l.lo?' Putting his hand inside the cloak, he produced the little leather purse which the Doctor had used earlier. Ben smiled. 'The crafty beggar. He's set us up nicely for the day, hasn't he?' He spilled out a selection of silver coins from the purse. 'It's like getting pocket money on a school trip.'

Polly examined some of the coins. 'Lucky for us they're the right period. I wonder how the Doctor does it.'

'Probably a happy accident, Pol,' said Ben with a shrug.

'Like the rest of the Doctor's life.' He weighed up the satisfyingly bulging purse in his hand. 'So. What d'you say to a pie and a tot of rum?'

Polly pulled a face. 'I wouldn't say no to a pie but you're on your own with the booze.'

'Well, you can't blame me, love,' laughed Ben. 'I'm a sailor. And they still had rum rations in these days!'

Polly turned back towards Parliament, her numbed features fixed in a frown. 'I wish I knew what was going on here.'

Ben pulled at her sleeve. 'Well, maybe we'd find out more if we actually mixed with some people. Come on, Pol. I'm perishing.'