Doctor Who_ Companion Piece - Mike Tucker [32]
`Don't worry, Grand Inquisitor,' assured the Patriarch. 'I shall not speak a word in favour of the dolphin. He turned to the Doctor. 'How are you? It is a pleasure to meet you properly. Young Catherine spoke a great deal about you. Is she not with you?'
No, she's gone on one of her walks:
`Forgive me for not seeing you sooner. The exertions of the last few days took their toll and I was forced to take to bed. I trust they are treating you well.'
`I haven't really noticed,' said the Doctor. 'I haven't been quite myself either.'
He shot a withering glance at del Toro. His time in the ship's dungeons, his semi-trance, had allowed vague memories of the experience to wash around and solidify, but still he could remember little about the murder. There was something odd, he vaguely recalled, about the monk...
`Do you feel able to talk about what happened in Braak Cathedral?' the Doctor asked the Patriarch.
`The murder.' Father Julian shivered. 'Poor Runciman:
`Yes. Is there anyone who might have wanted to see the Cardinal dead?'
Del Toro laughed aloud. 'About half of Christendom, Doctor. The other half would willingly have died for him. Such are the times we live in.'
The Patriarch nodded his agreement. 'A great and true servant of the Holy Spirit and a political genius, Doctor. He'd have caused some fireworks at the conclave, I have no doubt:
`You say you saw the murderer, Father?' queried the Doctor.
`Yes.' The old man grew suddenly agitated. 'It was the Antichrist. A faceless monk, Doctor!'
`Did you see either Cat or me there?'
`No. I I. . . became aware of Catherine later. She was holding my head and calling for help.'
`Or trying to falsely establish her innocence; interjected del Toro. `Easier than making an escape, perhaps:
`This monk — ' pressed the Doctor.
`W hat if the Sublime Patriarch did see a faceless monk?' del Toro impatiently cut in. 'You could easily have conjured some spirit up from hell, clothed in the conveniently concealing garb of a monk. W e have already witnessed your powers, Doctor, when you sent your spirit from your body at the late Cardinal's mass. That alone is enough to condemn you to death.'
`Then why drag me all the way to Rome?'
The Patriarch slapped his palm impatiently on the altar-rail and began to cough.
`Yes, we must leave these matters for Rome,' said the Inquisitor soothingly. 'Venerable Father, you must return to your bed. You are still far from well.'
The Patriarch nodded, trying to catch his breath.
A young priest entered the chapel and whispered something in the Inquisitor's ear. The Inquisitor nodded solemnly and the young priest left.
`Gentlemen: del Toro said. 'His Holiness Pope John Paul is dead.'
`I thought he'd died some time ago, said the Doctor.
Del Toro scowled at the Time Lord.
`Doctor,' the old Patriarch chided, 'whatever one's opinions of the man, a legitimate pontiff has been gathered to God. It is not an occasion for sarcasm. Now you must excuse me. I have to go and pray for the Holy Father's soul. You, del Toro, should do likewise.' He began to shuffle towards the exit. 'Doctor, you are free to come and see me at any time he said between coughs. 'Catherine too. I trust that milord del Toro will make the appropriate arrangements.'
`Of course: said the Inquisitor stiffly, scowling.
`Thank you,' said the Doctor.
They waited in silence until the old man had gone.
`You willburn, Doctor: del Toro snarled. 'I swear before the Blessed Virgin, you will burn.'
That night (assuming in their dungeon that it was night), the Doctor and Cat dined uncomfortably but well, courtesy of Father Julian, who had sent down a large hamper from the Grand Inquisitor's table. Cold
meats, hot dishes flavoured with strange spices, wine . . .
Cat ate heartily. She was starving. She talked incessantly