Doctor Who_ Battlefield - Marc Platt [19]
He heard an angry growl approaching and took refuge among the trees to watch. An armoured cart or chariot carrying three passengers sped past along the track.
So the peasants of Avallion had machines as well. But compared with those in the world, this graceless and brutish carriage seemed more dead than alive. An ill or good omen? They said that only in a time of greatest need would the High King return to set the worlds to right. The knight turned back to the blue box. That time must be soon if the king’s greatest councillor came as his forerunner.
‘Why are you driving us to the village?’ asked the Doctor from the UNIT vehicle’s front passenger seat. From the back, Ace watched the TARDIS disappear into the distance.
Bambera showed no sign of being anything other than very wary of her charges. It was clear that this Doctor knew too much, but he was too upfront to be an enemy agent.
Until she could get a clear idea of his identity, and that meant getting radio communication back on line, she was giving nothing away. ‘To get you away from Vortigern’s Lake.’
‘Oh yes, Vortigern. How interesting.’
‘Fascinating,’ complained Ace. They couldn’t be in that much trouble or they’d have had an armed escort.
Bambera’s stare hardened on the road. If the convoy was threatened, the last thing she wanted was civilians getting in the way, whoever Zbrigniev thought the Doctor was. In the current scenario, she was the only one who could be spared, and that annoyed her. She took the turning that led down towards Carbury village.
‘What’s your name?’ asked the Doctor.
‘What’s yours?’
‘He’s called the Doctor and I’m called Ace,’ butted in the voice from the back.
‘Brigadier Winifred Bambera,’ said the driver.
Ace was astonished. ‘Winifred?’
The Doctor nodded. ‘There are a lot of secrets held in a name. For example, Vortigern in Old English means High King. So your missile convoy is stranded by the Lake of the High King.’
‘It’s not my convoy and it’s not stranded. It’s merely suffering from a minor technical malfunction.’
‘If it’s so minor, why is UNIT involved?’
‘Why are you so interested?’
The Doctor was happy to keep this up for the rest of the trip. ‘Why do you care?’
Ace leaned through the gap between them and said,
‘Why don’t I understand what you two are talking about?’
The Doctor went quiet and looked out at the ravaged countryside. Forces were at play there and he wanted to know who and what their motives were.
Ahead he could see the tiny village of Carbury. Beyond it, the storm’s blast had combed the trees flat in one sweep across the hillside.
And Winifred is a modern English equivalent of Guenever. By the roadside was a half fallen sign marked The Gore Crow Hotel. Fully Licensed. Non-Residents Welcome.
Bambera pulled into the drive and stopped in front of the rambling edifice.
‘You can stay here,’ she said and released the locks on the doors. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Ace and the Doctor climbed out on to the gravel.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ called the Doctor raising his hat.
‘Good luck with your missile.’
Bambera gave him a glare of contempt and pulled away, narrowly avoiding the brightly-coloured car that was chugging up the drive towards them.
The Chinese girl at the wheel smiled at them as she parked her blue 2CV in front of the hotel. Shou Yuing had to look twice at Ace’s clothes to believe them. Surely nostalgia for the eighties wasn’t back in fashion again?
She’d come home from Exeter University for the Easter vac to get away from fashion victims like that.
‘Good morning,’ called the Doctor raising his hat again.
Shou Yuing looked at his muddy shoes and grinned back. ‘Quite a storm, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it must have been.’ He turned and hurried Ace in through the hotel’s porch.
The oak-panelled hall smelt of beeswax and freshly cut narcissi. It was deserted, but the sound of an electronic till led them into the bar which seemed to double as a reception area. There