Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers - Martin Day [4]
‘Observe how the spoons are placed face up,’ said the Doctor quietly.
‘So?’ I queried.
‘In this culture, spoons are often placed face down, so that one does not run the risk of seeing the face of the Devil reflected in it.’ The Doctor grinned. ‘Such superstitions are prevalent.We are lucky to find ourselves not only in the house of a man of some status, but a man of some thought, some openness.’
‘I can’t see any forks,’ said Dodo prosaically.
‘Indeed, no,’ the Doctor replied with a smile. ‘They have yet to be invented.’
‘The Middle Ages,’ I stated, probably sounding more confident in my summation than I felt.
The Doctor nodded, but said nothing more as the family returned. They stared at us as if we each had three heads and, I am afraid to say, things did not improve as the evening drew on.
Isaac himself was a cheerful and engaging host, but the others were largely silent. They chewed slowly, either staring at us or averting their eyes. I really think that we had put them off their food.
I came to learn that Isaac was a trusted adviser to the city’s governor; that his wife was called Rebekah, and his son, Nahum; and that we were welcome to stay as his guests for as long as we wished. He clearly took being a host very seriously indeed.
It goes without saying that we planned to take our leave of Isaac after the meal. If Dodo was looking for fresh air, I couldn’t imagine she’d find much of that in an era where the streets ran with excrement, and urine was stored to dye clothing. But events transpired against us. It seems that one of Isaac’s servants had been so unnerved by our appearance that he had run from the house to the governor’s residence.
I shudder to think what story of magically appearing demons he told; whatever his words, action followed swiftly.
Within the hour, Isaac’s home was full of soldiers and frightened officials. Nahum and Isaac tried to defend and protect us, but it was clear that the sanctuary and hospitality they had tried to extend to us was a minor concern to them. We were questioned politely – though I am not sure that didn’t have more to do with our supposed magical powers than the fair-mindedness of the city authorities. But at no point could I entirely forget that I was surrounded by battle-hardened young men in armour who carried swords and poleaxes.
The officials wanted to know who we were, where we came from, what our ‘allegiance’ was, and whether we knew of the great army that was sweeping through the forests and farmland towards the city. I should not have been surprised by their interest in our method of transportation, but I am afraid that I let slip that we had indeed arrived in the ‘blue box’. Their eyes lit up immediately.
I shot the Doctor an apologetic look, but he was turned away from me, trying to convince the leader of the military delegation otherwise. However, given that he could offer no alternative explanation for our arrival behind fortified city walls, still less an idea of our geographical journey, it was obvious that his subsequent comments were little more than bluster.
I knew the authorities didn’t have an inkling of what the TARDIS was – but it was equally clear that they would prefer to keep hold of it, rather than run the risk of it falling into the hands of their enemies.
We watched as, with some difficulty, the craft was transported to the governor’s house. No one could believe how heavy the ‘box’ was: the Doctor refused to say anything about the TARDIS. He merely muttered under his breath, took a tighter grip