Doctor Who_ Curse of Peladon - Brian Hayles [12]
He looked over his shoulder at the great statue which loomed over the doorway to the throne room. Grun followed his gaze, then looked back into the High Priests eyes, knowing what he had to do. Hepesh nodded, satisfied, and offered his holy ring, a huge jewel carved into the form of Aggedor’s face. Grun knelt, briefly, pressing the ring to his lips then against his broad forehead, accepting Hepesh’s blessing for the task that he must now perform. He stood and saluted formally, as the priest moved quietly away on his own errand.
‘I go to summon the delegates to the King’s presence, Grun.
They will come this way shortly. Think only of this—’ Hepesh threw one last glance at the grim-faced statue, ‘Aggedor has spoken...’
The eerie cry of the unknown threat behind them had not reached the Doctor and Jo for several minutes now. Their pace had slowed considerably. The vein of phosphorus light had virtually dwindled to nothing and in the gloom, the rock-scattered floor had made walking dangerous. Suddenly a welcome glow appeared ahead.
‘It’s a torch,’ Jo cried excitedly. ‘Doctor, can you see?
Civilisation at last!’
‘Yes,’ the Doctor agreed, rubbing his chin and brooding,
‘but a rather unusual one. Look at the holder, Jo. It’s the equivalent of the Renaissance on Earth—the late Middle Ages.’
‘They could just be antiques.’ offered Jo hopefully. ‘Let’s get on. I don’t like this tunnel.’
The Doctor finished examining the metal torch-holder, and looked further along the tunnel. It bent to the right, and from the curve came the flickering glow of what appeared to be other torches. He took Jo by the elbow, and moved onward. Neither of them noticed that the floor was smoother now—not ridged and rough-hewn, but laid with flagstones.
‘Come on then, Jo,’ smiled the Doctor, ‘I’ve a feeling that we’re coming to the end of it at last...’
It wasn’t until they turned the corner that they realised how right the Doctor was—the tunnel ended in a blank, man-made wall. Jo turned to the Doctor, her face miserable with despair.
‘We’re trapped,’ she said plaintively. ‘All this way, and its a dead end!’
‘Don’t be so sure, Jo. Don’t you notice something rather...
unusual?’ observed the Doctor drily.
‘Apart from the fact that were very probably stuck in the middle of some freaky planet in the Dark Ages, no.’
‘Its the torches, Jo . . ‘. indicated the Doctor. ‘If this tunnel is never used, why are they alight?’
‘A brilliant deduction, my dear Doctor,’ grumbled Jo wearily, ‘but you still haven’t told me how we get out!’
The Doctor moved to the torch nearest the end wall of the tunnel and fumbled with it as he muttered half to himself. ‘They were an ingenious lot of fellows in the Middle Ages, Jo... Got up to all sorts of tricks. Ah, yes, I thought as much!’ With a low groan, the wall swung open—and they were inside the citadel.
Alpha Centauri was restless. The unaccustomed austerity of the castle was not exactly soothing to the nerves of a Galactic civil servant. The primitive surroundings didn’t seem to effect Arcturus, but Alpha Centauri felt obliged to complain anyway.
‘These backward planets,’ the hexapod sighed despondently, ‘so uncivilised... no atmosphere purifier... no protein dispensers.’
The thin rasp of Arcturus’ metallic voice brought no comfort. ‘This is a diplomatic mission,’ came his reply, ‘not a holiday!’
‘A Galactic official deserves some consideration at least!’
twittered the octopod-headed alien. ‘And have you seen the colour scheme in my living quarters? They obviously have no idea what ‘peaceful’ means!’
‘We are here,’ rapped out the Arcturian delegate, ‘to bring order and political unity to this planet—not to decorate it like a Centaurian fun-palace.’
Before Alpha Centauri could think of an effective reply, the door opened. Standing there was Hepesh, cold-faced and haughty. Both Arcturus and the mildly agitated hexapod