Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers - Martin Day [83]
The Doctor immediately held her close. ‘My child, I am sorry. I should not have said such things. It is a gruesome tale, to be sure –’
‘It’s all my fault!’ she exclaimed through her tears.
‘Come, come,’ said the Doctor. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I said something to Dmitri.’ It was almost impossible to hear her words through her sobbing. ‘I said something, and it gave him the idea. It gave him the idea to throw the bodies over the walls.’
‘Oh, my dear, I wish I had said nothing.’
‘But... What Dmitri did... Might it have inspired this attack on Kaffa?’ Dodo’s desperation was clear on her face.
‘It is by no means certain. No, not at all – though the Mongols are nothing if not great storytellers and military tacticians, always looking for new strategies.’
‘But Dmitri was mad,’ I interjected, seeing how upset Dodo had become. ‘Who’s to say this wouldn’t have happened anyway?’
‘Quite, quite,’ agreed the Doctor hastily. ‘It’s quite improbable that the events we have witnessed here – a deranged governor in Kiev, sent mad by some sort of monster – will go on to be remembered by a Mongol leader a hundred years in the future.Yes, quite improbable.’
I could see that Dodo was less than entirely convinced. The Doctor said nothing more, but instead walked over to Dmitri who was slumped in a chair in the corner. The former governor’s chin was moist, and his eyes were untroubled by blinking or movement. ‘Yes, this creature brings madness in its wake,’ the Doctor said. ‘It chose not to kill Dmitri, but instead ...
‘ He stamped his feet in irritation. ‘There is something obvious here, something we are not seeing! Why attack some, and not others? Why kill soldiers, but infect Dmitri only with madness?’
‘Why are you so concerned with this creature?’ asked Isaac.
‘I have my reasons,’ said the Doctor – and I had more than an inkling what they might be.
Before the Doctor could say anything else, Yevhen swept back into the room. ‘I have some news for you,’ he announced grandly.
‘Later, man, later,’ said the Doctor, clearly irritated. ‘We need to know about the prophecies, the legends. They speak of the salvation of the city of Kiev, do they not?’
‘I do not know,’ said Yevhen, for the moment forgetting his announcement. ‘I believe so.’
‘Come, come,’ said the Doctor, frustrated. ‘Let us lay our cards on the table, so to speak. We have precious little to lose, and this creature could still be the salvation of Kiev. Now, acting governor Yevhen – what do you know of the legends of the dark angel?’
Still Yevhen seemed not inclined to speak.
‘Come on, man!’ I exclaimed ‘It’s obvious you released the thing from the catacombs under the cathedral. At least tel us what you know!’
Yevhen turned towards the window, hiding his face from us.
‘Very well,’ he said, his voice the whisper of decades. ‘I shall tell you what I know.’
I listened attentively as Yevhen spoke in a still voice, his hands writhing nervously behind his back.
‘A manuscript speaks of an angel, a protector. The document, passed down from eldest son to eldest son, tells of a potter, who lived in the countryside beyond our city. He was one of many who discovered the coffin of the angel. But he, uniquely, was blessed with an insight into the war in heaven –
the war that saw the angel come to earth. He saw the angel fighting the forces of evil. It is a dark angel only because it is forced to use the instruments of evil to defeat the enemies of state and God. The potter came to believe that the angel’s casket would protect the city of Kiev. In my folly, I too believed this.’
He glanced at us momentarily. ‘I believe the potter was my great-great-great-great-grandfather. Perhaps, as some would say, peasant stupidity does run in my family!’
This was quite an admission from Yevhen, and for a moment I almost felt sorry for the man. But when he turned I saw the cold darkness of his face, and my sympathy drained away. ‘I tire of this. I order you all into the catacombs,