Doctor Who_ Earthworld - Jacqueline Rayner [27]
It had taken Fitz three goes before he’d managed to get the sheet thing to resemble the toga it was supposed to be, and not a do-it-yourself Hallowe’en ghost costume. His legs were a bit too skinny (and hairy) for comfort, but he’d happily wandered around in shorts back on Earth in the old days, and this wasn’t really that much different in terms of flesh exposure. The laurel wreath Killing Queens
51
actually quite suited him: he thought he looked aristocratic. Or at least, more so than usual. He probably wouldn’t have gone out like that by choice, but he could cope. Until Antarctica put the collar and lead on him.
She’d only laughed at his protests. He was her pet, and he was coming with her on their ‘treat’, and she couldn’t possibly let him run free, could she? The indignity of this really hurt. The only plus side was that he’d mentioned that pets needed to be fed, and she’d agreed. But then she’d looked at her crocodile, so it was potentially not such a good thing after all.
After what had happened last time, Fitz had decided not to point out to the girls the incongruity of wearing wristwatches with their Roman-style outfits –
and then he looked and realised they weren’t actually wearing wristwatches, so why had he thought that? Maybe memories of Ben Hur at the cinema. No, it was because he could still hear that stupid ticking. What was that all about?
Anyway, so now the four of them were sitting on deckchairs, looking down on a Roman arena, with a tray of goblets on a trestle table in front of them and a heaped plate of food on each lap. So that was good. Unless they were fattening him up. But the crocodile had a plate of its own. Some bits of the dish were definitely chicken, or at least some sort of bird, and it tasted quite good; Fitz was shovelling it down. Asia then explained that all their ancient-world recipes came from a book about a genuine Greek chef called Aristophanes. Fitz, who had once got accidentally trapped in the classical section of the TARDIS library for two days, and had as a consequence formed an appreciation of Greek and Roman plays upon discovering that they contained a hell of a lot of sex and violence (especially sex), remembered that Aristophanes, as well as writing a play called The Birds, had also written ones called The Frogs and The Wasps, and so decided he wasn’t that hungry after all. He picked up a goblet and took a swig of wine instead. And then realised why the zone smelled so much of vinegar, and wished he hadn’t. Hopefully the entertainment was better than the catering.
Over the opposite side of the arena, a gate thudded open. A skinny man stumbled into the ring, dressed in gladiatorial costume. He was holding a trident in one hand, awkwardly, as if not quite knowing what it was. There were distinct big-cat-like roars coming from somewhere behind him. ‘And this is the treat, is it?’ asked Fitz.
Antarctica nodded. ‘Isn’t it fab? Ancient World Zone is my second favourite zone of all; after Twentieth-Century London of course. But it’s Africa’s most favouritest zone, and she got to choose the treat this time.’ She leaned towards him and whispered conspiratorially, ‘She likes to see the blood, you see.’
52
EarthWorld
Fitz did see, and didn’t like it. Didn’t like any of this. Typical: they re-create Earth for entertainment and fixate on the nastiest, most bloodthirsty bits. He now understood why his dates – and yes, he’d had a few, although admittedly they were mostly first dates – didn’t want to see Dr No and preferred some Cliff Richard let’s-do-the-show-right-here guff instead. There really was enough violence in the world – worlds – without having it in your leisure time, too. He didn’t want to see a lion tear some poor little Christian apart; given the choice he’d have Cliff and the gang sweeping in in their double-decker bus any time.
And he