Doctor Who_ Curse of Peladon - Brian Hayles [49]
With long experience of diplomacy, his instinctive distrust of the aliens had warned him to be prepared for any emergency—even civil war. He was not such a fool as to waste time explaining to those loyal followers the petty details of their situation. It was enough to say that their nation was at risk, their freedom about to be violated, and their king charmed by the trickery of the aliens. Aggedor could see the truth, and had pointed the way to victory. The aliens must go.
With the death of Arcturus, there was no hiding Hepesh’s intentions from the Assessment Committee—and this in itself, might bring a bloodless victory, should the aliens decide to withdraw from the planet. That would surely happen if the wriggling squid Alpha Centauri got its own way. Then, Peladon would be left to its own barbaric ways and there would be no more alien interference. But until their spaceships slipped out of orbit and back into their star paths home, there would be danger. The temple of Aggedor within the citadel was no refuge.
Instead, Hepesh would muster his forces in the catacombs beneath the castle and the ancient shrine there. It was small, but holy, and in it was stored all the extra weapons that his personal military elite would need. Superb soldiers, sworn only to the service of Aggedor, they would be more than a match for the King’s Royal Guard. But first they must be gathered, and the final details given to them. By moonrise, if the aliens had not left, the avengers of Aggedor would strike.
One-by one, the captains came to him. They reported their weapon strength and position within the catacombs. Even as they came, certain tasks were being carried out. There was, however, but one rule that Hepesh hammered home relentlessly.
‘Contact with the aliens must be avoided at all cost,’ he ordered, ‘for they have weapons that could destroy us in a moment. When the time comes, it is I who will face them, alone and unarmed.’
This strategy sounded madness to his men—until he explained the reasoning behind it. For the plan Hepesh had formed was utterly simple. There would be no skirmishes with the aliens and no attempts to take the whole citadel by force.
There was only one target: to take the throne room and hold the king hostage.
Grun, too, was thinking on simple and direct lines. He was a warrior, and he had a score to settle. Faithful to both his king and to Aggedor, he had been betrayed into a false loyalty. The strange alien who fought without armour, yet who in victory had spared Grun’s life, had shown the truth. Hepesh the patriot was a low hypocrite who had worked with an alien enemy to bring about the downfall of the king. The alien, Arcturus, was dead.
Now it was the turn of Hepesh. With that source of evil dead or captured, there could be no revolt. It was a matter of finding him, and Grun knew where he would go. Deep in the catacombs, there was a shrine. Grun, when he had prepared to become King’s Champion, had kept his vigil there. It was said to be the most holy place upon the whole of Mount Megeshra. It was a place that few men knew of, and where even fewer would dare to go. Since that vigil long ago, Grun had never returned there.
But now, his purpose was greater than his fear: Hepesh would be there, and Hepesh must be taken.
Grun’s long stride took him swiftly along the shadowed corridor to the alcove that he knew so well. Pulling aside the tapestry, a twist of the torch holder opened the way into the tunnel beyond. But for once, Grun was not careful to hide his route. He tied the tapestry back, a sure signal for those who had eyes to see that someone had gone before. He entered, and the stone door closed after him. Once inside the tunnel, the roughness of the slabbed floor and the relatively cramped space of his surroundings forced him to move more carefully. In spite of his burly