Doctor Who: The Myth Makers (8 page)

‘Thank you – yes, that would be very nice.’

‘Yes indeed,’ said Paris, ‘I haven’t had anything to eat since

–’ Priam turned on him impatiently: ‘You get back to the front.

If you haven’t killed Achilles by nightfall, I shall be very seriously displeased.’

‘Oh, very well,’ Paris agreed, gloomily, ‘but I really don’t see why Troilus shouldn’t go? More his sort of thing.’

‘Because you are now, Heaven help us all, my eldest son, and you must shoulder – I use the word loosely, of course – your responsibilities. And if, by any chance, Achilles should kill
you
, then Troilus will have
two
elder brothers to avenge – and will fight the better for it. Do you follow? That’s the whole point!’

Paris saw it at once, of course, and didn’t care for it. ‘Well, I just wouldn’t want to stand in his way, that’s all.’

‘Now, don’t argue, Paris – just get out there!’

‘Oh, all right. Goodbye Cressida. All being well, we shall meet this evening.’

‘As soon as that?’

‘Yes, we have to knock off as soon as the light goes, or you can’t see the blood.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, goodbye, Paris – and thank you for standing up for me.’

‘Not at all, not at all,’ said the unhappy prince, ‘only too pleased.’ And with a lack-lustre salute to whoever might be interested, he turned on his heel, and low-profiled back to the war.

‘Now then,’ said Priam, having thus inspired and invigorated his eldest, ‘come along, Cressida – you and I must have a long talk. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to bring us luck.’

‘She will bring us nothing but doom, death and disaster,’

remarked Cassandra, ever the optimist.

‘Yes, yes, Cassandra – you
have
made your point. And your protest will be entered in the official records, so you’ve nothing to worry about. This way, my dear.’

Vicki hesitated. ‘Are you quite sure? I dont want to upset anybody.’

‘Oh, you mustn’t worry about Cassandra – she always takes the gloomiest possible view of things. It’s a form of insurance, I suppose, so that, if things
do
go wrong, she can always say – I told you so! I remember once...’

But what he remembered we shall never know, because at that point, he and Vicki disappeared into the palace – and I didn’t think I should presume to follow them, on such a short acquaintance.

I was wondering what to do next, when Cassandra made up my mind for me. ‘Hear me, you gods of Troy!’ – and why she should have thought they were deaf I don’t know – ‘Strike with thy lightnings the fledgling upstart who seeks to usurp Cassandra, your true priestess! Or give me a sign, I pray you, that she is false – then will I strike the blow myself!’

Well she certainly looked capable of it, as she stalked back into the temple, slashing about her with a snake-skin whip, or some such; and for Vicki’s sake, I hoped no sort of sign, as requested, was in the offing. But it didn’t seem as if there’d be a lot I could do about it, even if there were. And, quite frankly, having had enough of Cassandra for one action-packed morning, I thought my best plan would be to stroll gently back to the Greek camp, and see how the Doctor was getting along with his war-plans.

Who knows – I might even be able to scrounge a bite of breakfast...

13

I did, in fact, arrange to get a couple of rather bristly wild boar chops at the Greek commissariat, in exchange for a tune or two on my lyre – did I ever mention that I used to play a bit? And thus fortified, set out to find Odysseus’ quarters – not easy in that ill-planned, haphazard straggle of a cantonment! – where I assumed he would have taken his prisoners. But being so obviously Greek myself, I was able to mingle at will amongst the lower ranks without exciting much curiosity; and eventually a hoplite of sorts suggested that I try down by the shore –

apparently Odysseus kept himself apart from the other heroes whenever possible – and he pointed out where the Ithacan flotilla was drawn up on the sand, looking like so many stranded sea-monsters.

‘You can usually find him there,’ said my informant, ‘when he isn’t busy insulting his allies, or putting the fear of god into the rest of us with his crack-brained schemes.’

So I trudged seawards, and wandered moodily along the beach, aiming the occasional kick at a dead dog-fish, and wondering if I wouldn’t be better employed getting the hell out of Asia Minor, and heading for the Hesperides, where I had a tentative concert engagement. In fact, I generally used to try and spend midsummer there when I could: cooler, you know, and very much nicer class of girl. So, thinking on these things, my steps were beginning to drag a bit; and I dare say that in another second or so I might well have given up the whole misguided project – when suddenly I heard my name mentioned. And that’s something will always set a chap to eaves-dropping, no matter how many times he hears ill of himself.

So I peeked over the prow of the nearest longship; and yes

– there were the Doctor and Steven, brows wrinkled and so on, poring over a lot of papers, and what looked like machine-drawings, spread out all over the – what do you call ’em? –

thwarts, or something.

‘No my boy,’ the Doctor was saying, ‘it couldn’t possibly work in practice. It’s obviously just something Homer thought up as a good dramatic device. I would never dream of doing it myself.’

Well, if he didn’t dream of doing it soon, I’d never think it up at all. I could have told him that there and then!

That’s one of the troubles with time-travel, you see. The Doctor was always so anxious not to alter the course of history by meddling, that he sometimes didn’t realize history couldn’t happen if he didn’t give it a helping hand now and then. One sees the dangers, of course: get it wrong, and the whole future could be altered. And if you alter the future too much, you might very likely not get a chance to exist in it yourself, if you follow me? I suppose that’s why, in later years, he always preferred to go forward rather than backwards in time; so that, whatever happened, he couldn’t wipe himself clean off the slate by accident!

But the trick is: don’t play the giddy-goat – just apply to the history books for instructions, and then get on with it. And since, apparently, I’d have written one myself before too long, all he had to do was what I told him. And I couldn’t wait to hear what that was! I soon learnt, however; and, I must say, I was tempted to agree with him. The whole idea was preposterous!

‘I don’t see why,’ argued Steven.

‘Well, supposing we did build a great wooden horse, and fill the thing with soldiers, why on earth should the Trojans drag it into the city? They’d be far more likely to burn it where it stood

– and a pretty lot of fools we should all look then! Especially the soldiers!’ he added, after a pause.

‘No, especially us,’ Steven pointed out, ‘after Odysseus got through with us! I’m afraid you’re right, Doctor. And that being the case, you’d better hurry up and think of something else.

We’ve only got forty-eight hours, remember!’

‘Forty-two now, in point of fact,’ said Odysseus pleasantly, climbing out of a sort of hatch-way, and swatting a wasp with a paint-brush. I suppose he’d been down in the bilges, caulking –

or whatever it is you do in bilges. ‘Haven’t you thought of anything yet?’

‘Nothing of any particular value,’ admitted the Doctor, ‘at least, nothing to bring about the fall of Troy. But I
have
thought of some conditions of my own.’

‘That’s very presumptious of you, I must say. I really don’t see how you’re going to enforce them. But you may as well tell me what they are, I suppose. After all, it’s your time you’re wasting – not mine.’

‘It’s simply this: if I’m to help you sack the city, then you must promise that Vicki will be spared.’

I was glad he’d remembered her at last. I was beginning to wonder. Odysseus looked puzzled. ‘Vicki? What’s that? And why should I spare it?’

‘Oh, do pull yourself together, and pay attention!’ said Steven – rather unwisely I thought. ‘I told you about Vicki only this morning. And if they have taken the TARDIS into Troy, then she’s probably still inside it.’

‘I hope so, for her sake,’ acknowledged Odysseus, ‘because, if she left it, they’d assume she was one of
our
spies; and, in that case, I’d say she’s probably past worrying about by now.’

‘We can’t be sure of that,’ said the Doctor.

‘Perhaps not – but I really don’t see what you can expect me to do about it? You don’t imagine, do you, that if and when we enter Troy, I shall have time to ask every young woman I see if she’s a friend of yours, before I cut her throat? It just wouldn’t be practical.’

‘Then,’ said Steven, ‘let
me
go now, and try to get her out before you attack. After all, I’m no use to you here. The Doctor can manage very well without me.’

Odysseus rubbed his chin with the paint-brush – fortunately without noticing. Bluebeard, the bigamous pirate, to the life! ‘I hope you don’t think it’s as easy to get into Troy as you suggest?

If it were, I’d have done it myself years ago, and the war would be over by now.’

‘I’m not proposing to
break
in – there are other ways.’

‘Oh, are there indeed?’ He yawned, inhaling a certain amount of paint. ‘You must tell me about them sometime. At the moment I happen to be rather busy. Dam’ barnacles get in everywhere,’ he explained, preparing to descend to his bilges again.

‘Listen a moment,’ Steven persevered, ‘it’s quite simple.
You
can’t afford to let yourself be taken prisoner – I can!’

Odysseus looked as near to pitying as he ever would. ‘You really are anxious to die, aren’t you? They’d take you for a spy, as we did.’

‘Not if I were wearing uniform. I should be a prisoner of war.’

For a moment I was afraid Odysseus was going to laugh again. But wiser tonsils prevailed, and he spat out a gob of paint instead. He regarded it with astonishment – and then returned, a trifle subdued, to the subject under discussion.

‘Hmm... I’m not sure what they’re doing with their prisoners of war at the moment. It
may
be just imprisonment, as you said. On the other hand, it may be hanging in chains for the vultures. Depends on how they feel at the time, I imagine. An unpredicatable lot, the Trojans.’

‘I’m prepared to take the risk, if you’re prepared to let me go.’

You could tell Odysseus was impressed, because he said so.

‘You know, that’s really very brave of you...!’

‘Then you’ll help me?’

‘I don’t see why not. And, of course, if you can manage to kill a couple of them before you let yourself be captured, we shall all be very grateful. Every little helps. And, as you say, you don’t seem to be of any particular use here.’

‘All right – I’ll do my best. What about a uniform?’

‘Can’t help you there, I’m afraid – you’d look ridiculous in one of mine; altogether different fitting. Wait a minute last week my friend Diomede died of his wounds on board – and they don’t know he’s dead – so you can take his identity as well as his armour. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, under the circumstances.

You’ll find his things up for’ard – and you’re about his size, so, off you go.’

‘Thank you, Odysseus – I’ll try to be worthy of them.’

Tactful, I thought. A good lad.

‘I’m sure you will be. I should have been quite distressed to have put you to death myself.’ And he looked quite as if he meant it. So off Steven popped – and Odysseus turned to the Doctor: ‘Well, now,’ he said, ‘after that, I hope
you’re
not going to disappoint me?’

‘I sincerely hope not. Tell me – have you thought of tunnelling?’

‘It’s been tried. The men won’t work the hours. No, what we want is something revolutionary.’

‘Dear me! I wonder – have you considered flying machines?’

Oydsseus raised an eyebrow, as with a winch. ‘I can’t say I have,’ he admitted, ‘tell me about them...’

‘Flying machines, indeed! Enough of his nonsense!’ I thought.

‘It’s time for my siesta.’ For, in fact, the boar-chops were beginning to lie rather heavy – so I padded stealthily out of earshot and made a cautious way back to the plain, where there was a shady tree of which I had pleasant memories.

Just before I went to sleep, I remember thinking, ‘Perhaps I’ll give Hesperides a miss this year, after all. This is where the action’s going to be, however eventually! And when it happens, it’s sure to make good copy: The Fall of Troy – an eye-witness account from your man in Scamander!’

Eye
-witness? Well, Zeus be thanked, we don’t know what to expect until it hits us!

Next time – if there is one – the Hesperides!

14

You will hardly believe this, but for the second time in twenty-four hours I was woken up by the sounds of battle – or by what I at first took to be the sounds of same – or by its vocal preliminaries, shall we say? Which, as we have seen, tend to be long and orotund, when compared to the usually brief and bloody sequel.

But, of course, I had forgotten that the war-like Paris was patrolling the plain, seeking whom he might devour – as per definite paternal instructions. So he was almost bound to make at least some sort of vengeful gesture, if he wanted his supper to be kept warm for him.

‘Achilles!’ he was calling quietly, ‘Come out and fight, you jackal! Paris, the lion of Troy – and brother of Hector, if you remember? – seeks revenge!’

There was, of course, no reply; not even an echo from the ramparts, which weren’t entirely sure they’d heard correctly.

He mopped his brow, and after a moment’s thought enquired gently, ‘Do you not dare to face me?’

And suddenly to the vast surprise of those present, there
was
an answer. ‘
I
dare to face you, Paris. Turn, and draw thy sword!’

And, so help me, out of the bushes stepped Steven, looking every inch the long-awaited folk-hero, returned to save his people!

Well, he could have his people, and welcome, as far as Paris was concerned – he wasn’t going to stand in anyone’s way, that was quite obvious. But rallying swiftly, he put his finger on the flaw in Steven’s suggestion. ‘Ah,’ he said, wagging a fore-finger,