Doctor Who_ Byzantium! - Keith Topping [65]
Ì have decided that my policy towards the Christians has been both too passive and weak. I have treated those base heretics with too much kindness. No more.' There was a terrifying pause, during which Barbara wanted to run downstairs, hug Hieronymous and tell him to forget what she said earlier and that true love could conquer all obstacles.
Truth is always the victor, Barbara told herself, and bit her tongue.
Ì wish to persecute the Christians to extinction,’ Hieronymous told his gathered deputies.
Something human within the heart of Barbara Wright died.
Another day, another move of location. The cave that the Doctor and the Christians now occupied was set so deep into the hills that Byzantium was now a mere speck on the horizon, straddling a river the colour of the TARDIS.
Like a distant and shimmering mirage, almost as if it were trying to convince the Doctor that it had never really existed at all.
Everything the Doctor looked at, or thought about, reminded him of what he had lost. Of the life that was now over for him. He would live and regenerate and live and regenerate and live and regenerate and, maybe, in two thousand years he would be in the right place at the right time to find an escape route from this alluring, yet primitive, world.
With this thought making him feel a little bit more positive, the Doctor found himself a corner of the new cave, rolled down his straw-mat bedding and fell into a deep and untroubled sleep.
Silhouetted in the entrance to the cave, one hand groping along the moist wals and into the dark interior, the visitor was suddenly assaulted by the light of five torches springing at him through the blackness.
'My God,' he said. It was an exclamation of alarm, rather than worship.
Luke Panathaikos, the hated Greek tax collector, stood at the mouth of the cave, a hand clutching his fast-beating heart and a look of shock on his face.
Ìf your intention was to have me defecate myself,’ he said, sullenly, `then you have almost succeeded.'
`What manner of ignorance is this, tax collector?' asked Daniel.
Luke gave the young man a contemptuous stare. 'If you had posted sentries in those locations where they would be of some use then my arrival would not have been so stealthy.’
James pushed Daniel away from the Greek and placed a welcoming arm around his shoulders. 'But it is good to see you, my friend. We did not know if you were still at liberty within Byzantium. You are our only ally now within those walls.'
Luke relaxed, sat cross-legged by the fire and warmed his hands. 'It would be wise for that to remain so for a while longer,' he told Daniel and James. ‘For even now, as I speak, Zealot aggressors roam the streets to sate their thirst for vengeance.' He paused and looked around hopefully 'Any food, hereabouts?'
'We have little,' James replied. ‘But what we have is yours.’
The tax collector nodded. Briefly, he looked at the sleeping figure of the Doctor. 'Another convert to the cause?'
he asked, somewhat cynically.
'None are disbarred from our ranks, Luke,' James said, sitting by the fire. 'Not even the likes of you.'
It was a perfect cover, of course. No one would suspect someone hated by his own community and trusted implicitly by the Romans of being a secret sympathiser with the Christians. But that was what made Luke Panathaikos such an important part of the Christians' organisation. He could go (and was welcomed) in all of the places that they could not. He could hear what was restricted to them. Like the night itself, he could slip unnoticed around the city, collecting snatches of conversation that might have some effect on the Christians.
`What news do you bring us today?' asked James, handing Luke a piece of cold chicken which the Greek ate hungrily.
'Many things,' he said, clearing his mouth and wiping the grease from his lips with the back of his hand. `Basellas's thugs are on the rampage everywhere that the Romans are not. They loot and pillage each house where they believe