Doctor Who_ Curse of Peladon - Brian Hayles [1]
Without giving further thought to the grim stone guardian, Torbis strode forward to meet his royal master.
Seated on the throne, Peladon watched affectionately as Torbis advanced and bowed his grizzled head in formal greeting. It was obvious that the old man was pleased. Peladon had good reason to share his pleasure. In spite of the well-meaning resistance of Hepesh, the High Priest, who now stood beside the throne, the promise that had once been no more than a dream would soon become reality. Peladon made a simple gesture of welcome. Torbis relaxed and stepped closer to the throne. His glance took in the two figures standing there: Grun, the King’s Champion, superbly muscled, impassive and ritually mute; and Hepesh, whose dark eyes scarcely hid his quiet hatred.
Hepesh raised a richly-ringed hand to stroke his beard. His glance flicked away from the Chancellor’s gentle face to that of the pale, handsome youth on the throne. He so resembled his warrior father in physique and bearing. But, because of the added graciousness and warmth of his mother the Earthwoman, the boy lacked the autocratic manner of the great Kings of the past. Yes, she was the source: breaking the royal bloodline, and planting the seeds of change not only in her son and Torbis, but in the minds of the whole Grand Council. She was dead now.
Hepesh and Torbis had, as Regents, brought Peladon to his throne when he came of age, and he still sought their guidance and wisdom. There was still a chance that he could be persuaded—but time was running short.
Torbis spoke, proudly. ‘The delegate from Alpha Centauri has arrived, your majesty. We wait only the Chairman delegate from Earth.’
‘There is no point in wasting time,’ said Peladon crisply.
‘Alpha Centauri will present his credentials to me as soon as possible, tonight.’
Hepesh stepped forward, tight-faced and sharp-voiced.
‘Your Majesty—think again! This folly—’
Torbis turned on Hepesh, but spoke calmly.
‘This folly as you call it, Hepesh, has been discussed and decided in Grand Council. You have had your say there and you were outvoted. Accept that decision!’
‘Hepesh’, interceded Peladon, ‘this meeting with the Commissioners of the Galactic Federation is only a preliminary discussion—nothing more that that...’
‘You have been misled, Majesty—’ retorted Hepesh earnestly. ‘Torbis and the fools who support him seek to discard the ancient ways of our people!’
‘Superstition and ignorance may be the tricks of your trade, Priest’, snapped Torbis, ‘but they are no foundation for a glorious future!’
‘A future in slavery to aliens?’ questioned Hepesh coldly.
‘Such a denial of our great traditions will surely bring the curse of Aggedor upon us!’
‘Perhaps Aggedor has more faith in his people than you, Hepesh...’ growled the old Chancellor.
‘The storm outside these walls has raged ever since the first alien landed on our planet,’ asserted the High Priest. ‘The omens cannot be ignored!’
Peladon stood, slight but commanding. ‘Torbis—Hepesh!’
His young face was stern. ‘End this brawl!’
The old Chancellor stepped back from Hepesh reluctantly.
‘Omens...’ he muttered. ‘It will take more than superstition to frighten me!’
‘The spirit of Aggedor protects the throne,’ Hepesh observed acidly. ‘Do you deny his power?’
Torbis made to answer but turned to find Peladon standing between him and the High Priest. The two older men fell silent as the young king placed a restraining hand on each of them.
His face carried rebuke—and the reminder of past friendship.
‘Friends...’ he said, quietly, ‘you have been more to me than councillors or regents. Both of you—in your own ways—have been my father since his sad death...’
Torbis studied Hepesh deliberately, but his words were for the king. ‘My only allegiance is to the throne’ he said.
‘Then end this hate between you...’ begged the king, ‘for my sake...’
The old Chancellor turned his tired face to Peladon, and nodded.