Doctor Who: The Highlanders (6 page)

A low Scottish voice hissed in his ear. ‘Move and I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear.’

Algernon tried to move but felt the cold steel pressed deeper against his throat.

‘She will, too,’ said the strange girl, ‘so you’d better keep still. Here.’ Polly unbuckled and pulled off his sword belt, then wrapped it tightly around his legs. ‘Use the strap for his wrist,’ she said to Kirsty. Between them the girls trussed up the fuming young officer.

‘Do you know that for assaulting a King’s officer...’

Algernon spluttered.

‘I know,’ said Polly, ‘thirty lashes. But you’re not in charge now. We are. Kirsty,’ she said, ‘turn out his pockets.’

Kirsty, a little shocked, started back. ‘Ach, no, I couldna do that.’

‘Why not,’ said Polly, ‘he has money, and we need it.’

‘By gad!’ Algernon burst out. ‘You cannot mean to rob me.’

At his words, Kirsty overcame her scruples. ‘And why not?’ she said. ‘You and your kind have robbed our glens.’

She opened his pouch. ‘He has food, look... chicken, bread.’

‘Great,’ said Polly. ‘Now, my gallant gentleman, your pockets.’

‘I have done you no harm...’ began Algernon.

‘No harm!’ said Kirsty. ‘It is no thanks to you that my father and Jamie were not hanged. They’re probably rotting in Inverness gaol by now.’ She felt in his pocket and brought her hand out. Then reacted in wide-eyed incredulity. ‘Will you look at this?’ she cried.

As Polly bent forward to look, she saw in Kirsty’s hand the gleam of golden guineas.

7

‘Right old rathole this is,’ said Ben. Ben, the Doctor, Jamie and Colin were in a circular cell, like a medieval dungeon.

Colin, still only half conscious, was propped up on two steps that led down to the floor cell, behind him the strong oak door with a narrow-barred grille. The walls oozed damp, and were covered with green moss. As Ben looked down, he saw that water was beginning to seep in through cracks in the rough stone walls. Illumination came from a spluttering tar torch stuck in a bracket beside the door. As they looked up, they could see an iron grille, and through it the white gaiters of the English sentry. Jamie was sitting on the step beside the Laird, and the Doctor was stretched out on a rough stone bench built against the wall, his legs out, seemingly unconcerned with his surroundings.

Jamie looked over at Ben. ‘If you think this is a rathole, King George has worse to offer, never fear.’

‘Yeah, I reckon you’re right,’ said Ben. ‘I’m glad, at least, that Polly’s out of this. I wonder if she’s all right.’

The last remark was directed at the Doctor, who didn’t seem to have heard, lost in his own thoughts, and humming gently to himself.

‘Doctor,’ said Ben. ‘Doctor.’

The Doctor looked at him. ‘I expect she’s all right,’ he said, ‘she got away.’

‘Why did we ever get mixed up with this lot?’ said Ben.

‘Well,’ said the Doctor, ‘it wasn’t exactly my idea.’

Then, as he saw Ben’s face fall, he went on, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m rather glad we did. It’s quite an adventure. I’m just beginning to enjoy myself.’

Then, as Ben raised his eyes heavenward – he would never understand the Doctor no matter how long he spent in his company – the Doctor continued, ‘I bet this place has an echo. It’s a classic shape. Let’s try, shall we?’ He put his hands beside his mouth and at the top of his voice yelled, ‘Down with King George!’ His voice, picked up by the circular room, produced an echo that took several seconds to die down. ‘There,’ said the Doctor, satisfied,

‘I’m right.’

‘Silence, you Jacobite pigs! Unless you want a touch of this bayonet,’ the sentry called.

Jamie turned round to the Doctor, wide-eyed. ‘So you are for the Prince after all?’

‘Oh, not really,’ the Doctor shrugged. ‘I just like listening to the echo. Well, to work,’ he said. He went over to Colin. ‘Let’s have another look at that wound, shall we?’

He started to pull Colin’s plaid aside to look at the shoulder wound.

‘Will you be letting him now?’ said Jamie.

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said the Doctor. ‘With rest it should heal.’

‘Heal!’ Jamie was outraged. ‘And you claim to be a doctor? You’ve no bled him yet.’

‘’Ere,’ Ben intervened, ‘what’s he on about?’

‘Blood-letting,’ said the Doctor.

‘But that’s daft.’

‘It is the only method of curing the sick,’ said Jamie.

‘Huh,’ Ben scoffed. ‘Killing them, more like. He’s lost enough blood already, don’t you think.’

The Doctor felt in his pocket and brought up a small telescope, then turned it upwards to where a few pale stars were visible through the grille. He began muttering to himself. ‘Oh Isis and Osiris, is it meet?’

‘Oh no,’ said Ben. ‘What are you on about now?’

‘Whist, man.’ Jamie was impressed.

The Doctor took another look through the telescope.

‘Gemini in Taurus.’ He turned abruptly to Jamie. ‘When was the Laird born?’

‘In the fifth month,’ said Jamie.

‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, ‘that’s what I thought. The blood-letting must wait until Taurus is in the ascendant. So it is willed.’

‘Stone a crow!’ said Ben. ‘You don’t believe in all that codswallop, do you Doctor?’

‘Of course I do,’ said the Doctor. He gave Ben a quick wink and nodded over his shoulder. ‘So does he. And he’s never heard of germs.’

Jamie looked puzzled. ‘What was that word?’

‘Oh,’ said the Doctor, ‘germs, they’re all around us.’

Jamie reacted at this a little fearfully, shrinking back and looking round him as if he expected to see germs hopping off the walls.

‘Have you a handkerchief, Ben?’ said the Doctor.

‘Uh, I think so. It’s not too clean,’ said Ben. He pulled out a small pocket handkerchief.

Jamie looked at it in disgust. ‘That wee lass’s handkerchief? Here Doctor, try mine.’ Jamie felt inside his shirt and pulled out a great square of linen giving it to the Doctor, who began binding Colin’s wound. As he did so, he noticed the corner of a silken object protruding from underneath the Laird’s bulky plaid.

‘Ah, what’ve we got here?’ said the Doctor. ‘Ben, give me a hand.’ Together they unwrapped Colin’s plaid and pulled out a large, square silk standard, heavily embroidered and ornate, with silken tassels. The Doctor held it up. ‘What have we here?’

Jamie’s eyes almost started out of his head. ’It’s – It’s, aye, Prince Charlie’s personal standard.’

‘Then what’s he doing with it?’ Ben pointed to the Laird.

‘Protecting it. Now put it back, will ye. If the English find it –’

‘Ah, wait.’ The Doctor took it, opened his coat, and wrapped it around his body, then buttoned his coat again.

The floppy, disreputable frock coat the Doctor wore looked little different for the addition.

Jamie started forward angrily. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

The Doctor pointed at Colin. ‘And what chance do you think he’ll stand of evading the gallows with this on him?’

Jamie stood nonplussed, scratching his head. ‘Och, well

– ’

‘Besides, it’ll keep me warm. Now Jamie,’ he said, ‘play us a tune to cheer us up.’

Jamie felt inside his coat and brought out the playing pipe of a set of bagpipes–all he had managed to salvage from his piper’s equipment after the battle. ‘Here,’ he said,

‘I’ll do mah best, but I canna do real justice to a tune without a bag and pipes ye ken.’ He started to blow a sad, soft, plaintive little Highland tune on the pipe. Soft as it was, it carried to the ears of the sentry above them.

‘Stop that noise!’ he called down.

Ben, whose taste in music leant more towards rock and pop, turned to Jamie. ‘Do you call that cheering us up?’

Jamie looked wounded, and the Doctor gently put his hand on his shoulder. ‘What Ben means, I think, is that he’d like to hear something a little more cheerful. I’m rather good at this sort of thing myself. May I try?’

Ben groaned and turned away, holding his head. ‘Here we go,’ he said. The one thing they always suffered from on this and other trips was the Doctor’s musical efforts.

Jamie drew himself up a little proudly. ‘You’ll not be able to play it, you know. It takes a McCrimmon to play the pipes.’

‘Well, never mind,’ the Doctor shrugged. He felt in his pocket and brought out the tin whistle he always carried in an inside pocket. Then, playing loudly and a little shrilly, he fingered the jaunty tune ‘Lillibulero’, the Jacobite marching song.

Even Jamie was alarmed at this. ‘Eee,’ he said, ‘whist ye!’

The Doctor stopped playing for a moment. ‘You’re a loyal Jacobite, aren’t you? This is your song. Ben, whistle it with me. Come on.’

As the Doctor led them, Jamie, looking around a little nervously, and Ben, not in the least comprehending the significance of the tune, started to whistle the catchy rhythms of the march. Up above them, the sentry, a loyal follower of King George, to whom the tune of ‘Lillibulero’

was the very symbol of the rebellion which had so nearly conquered Great Britain, pointed the musket down through the grille. ‘Silence, I say,’ he said. ‘I’ve warned you rebels once.’

The Doctor played louder, and over by the door Colin opened his eyes and smiled faintly at the sound of the rallying song of the Jacobite army.

‘All right,’ said the soldier, ‘we’ll see if a touch of this bayonet will hush ye.’ He turned and ran towards the staircase leading down to the cell.

The Doctor immediately stopped playing and passed Jamie back his pipe. ‘I think this is yours,’ he said.

A moment later, the long bolts rattled back and the door was flung open. The sentry glared around at them. ‘Who’s responsible for this?’ he cried.

The Doctor immediately stepped forward. To Ben’s surprise he was putting on his German accent again.

‘Ach, himmel,’ he said, ‘did you hear that tune?’

The sentry nodded suspiciously. ‘The rebel dirge.’ He looked at the Doctor. ‘And you were playing it.’

‘Ach, vein. They were playing it. To drive me out of my mind.’ He placed his hand on his heart. ‘I am from Hanover, a loyal subject of King George the Second.’

The sentry scowled at him suspiciously. ‘What’s that to do with me?’

The Doctor looked back at the others. Ben realised that the Doctor was up to some ruse, but Jamie was completely outraged by this latest switch in the Doctor’s shifting loyalties.

‘They know the plan to murder your general, the Duke of Cumberland,’ said the Doctor.

‘That’s a lie!’ Jamie burst out. Jamie turned round to Colin who was now sitting up and taking notice. ‘I knew he was no one of us,’ he said.

‘Well,’ said the sentry truculently, still looking rather suspiciously at the Doctor.

‘Take me to Commissioner Grey, and let us hope we may be in time to stop it.’

‘Why did you not speak before?’ said the sentry, still suspicious.

‘Ach,’ said the Doctor, ‘’tis just discovered.’ He pointed at Jamie. ‘And that rogue is a party to it.’

This was too much for Jamie. He flung himself forward to throttle the Doctor, but the sentry intercepted him with a bayonet levelled at his chest. ‘Ye filthy spy, ye,’ said Jamie, furious.

Ben grabbed hold of Jamie’s arm and pulled him back.

This finally convinced the sentry that the Doctor was sincere: Jamie’s anger was too intense to be anything but the real thing. He nodded behind him. ‘Go on,’ he said,

‘out!’

The Doctor gave a quick wink at Ben, and then walked out of the door. The sentry backed out and slammed the door behind them.

Ben nodded approvingly at Jamie. ‘Well done, mate,’ he said.

Jamie was still furious. ‘What d’you mean, and why dinna ye join your friend with the other traitors?’

‘Aw, calm down,’ said Ben. ‘Can’t you see it was all a fiddle?’

‘Fiddle?’ said Jamie.

‘Trick, mate. A ruse, to get us out of here.’

Jamie shook his head, trying to comprehend. ‘I dinna understand ye.’

Ben shook his head, then patiently tried to explain.

‘Blimey, listen. Outside, he’s got a chance to get away and get help, to rescue us. What chance do you think he’s got paddling around in here?’ He looked down to where the water was now lapping around their feet.

Jamie finally seemed to comprehend what Ben was saying. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I see. But nevertheless, I’m a’

worriet.’

Ben looked around the cell. ‘Well, don’t waste time worrying about the Doctor, mate. Worry about us.’ He pointed up to a dark line which ran all the way around the circular cell. ‘That’s a tide mark, unless I’m very much mistaken.’ He bent down and tasted the water. ‘Yeah, salt.

’Ere,’ he touched the mark which was some foot above their heads. ‘That’s where the water level comes up to when the tide’s in, and it ain’t my bath night.’

8

In the lantern light, Polly was carefully counting out Algernon’s money. ‘Eighteen, nineteen, twenty guineas.

Hmm... how far will that get us, do you think?’

Kirsty, beside her, was wide-eyed. ‘I’ve never seen so much money in all my days,’ she said.

‘You’ll both h-hang for this, you know,’ said Algernon.

Polly turned to him. ‘You’re very fond of hanging, Mr uh-h-h...’ She had an idea. ‘Here, what is your name?’

Algernon set his mouth and turned his face away. ‘I refuse to tell you.’

‘Oh, we’re very brave all of a sudden, aren’t we?’ said Polly. She turned to Kirsty. ‘He must have some identification on him. Let’s find it.’ Polly leaned forward and unbuttoned the top of Algernon’s waistcoat.

Underneath, there was a large crescent-shaped identity disc, worn by all the British soldiers of that period. She pulled it out towards the light and read, ‘Algernon Thomas Alfred Ff – she stumbled for a moment on his surname–

‘Ffinch. With two “f”s yet? A Lieutenant in the Honourable Colonel Atwood’s Rifles.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll bet the Honourable Colonel Atwood would be interested to hear how one of his lieutenants was captured by two weak girls.’

For the first time, Algernon’s eyes widened in fear. ‘Oh come,’ he said, ‘surely you would not tell...’