Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [34]
desperate, the iron stink of blood mingling with powder
‘And Rupert?’
smoke as the two forces waded into each other. Then with a Cromwell sighed. ‘Fled. Vanished. The jackanapes has the terrifying cry of triumph, Parliament’s reserve of three devil to protect him.’
thousand Scottish cavalry tore into the Royalist right wing Jackson unbuckled his belt and sat back on the warm which broke and fled.
ground. Cromwell changed tack.
‘Is this not a sight to behold!’ cried Cromwell, returning
‘But still there is more to do. The battle has fatigued thee, I from the field hospital sooner than he ought, with his neck know, but I must return to the Eastern Association. The war haphazardly dressed. At once, he declared Parliament’s is not yet won. I am relying on thee, Phillip, to remain here centre and right to be in a hellish state and, thrashing his and hunt down any of the king’s men who linger.’
horse, swept behind the enemy to his men’s assistance.
Jackson sighed inwardly. He was exhausted. All he How much longer the fighting had continued, Jackson wanted now was to bathe and sleep. He looked down at his couldn’t be sure. If he closed his eyes he saw only aching feet and nodded. ‘I am, as always, at your service, anguished faces and glittering swords. He let his eyes roll sir.’
back and gazed up at the darkening sky, the summer scents
‘Not mine, lad. The Lord’s,’ said Cromwell with a smile, of the moor stirring around him. Then, with a groan, he sat clapping the young captain on the shoulder.
up, eased off his boots and pulled down his stockings which
‘Take your men and circle a few miles hereabouts, but tax were blackened with leather stains and mud. A leg of roast them not too severely. Bring back Rupert and I’ll make a chicken was thrust into his hand and he ate ravenously, general of thee.’
pausing only when he saw Cromwell striding towards him Jackson watched Cromwell disappear into his tent. He out of the darkness.
was right, of course. There might still be a few Royalists
‘Your wound, sir?’ said Jackson, wiping greasy hands on hiding in the surrounding countryside. Perhaps even Rupert his tunic.
himself. It was worth sacrificing a few hours to find them.
Cromwell shrugged lightly. “Tis little. A scratch. A far Wearily, Jackson pulled up his stockings and forced his greater wound was Valentine Walton’s boy. I have written sweat-soaked boots on to his feet. Within half an hour he to the father, God grant him mercy.’
had rounded up a dozen unwilling soldiers and had begun Jackson nodded sadly. The boy’s death that day had been to trot away eastwards.
a great blow to them all.
He felt curiously drawn towards the fires of Crook
‘But the victory is ours, Phillip. By God it is!’ cried Marsham with its great ruined castle. On that fine, balmy Cromwell, his heavy face suffusing with passion. ‘Of twenty July night, the old black towers were virtually indistinguishable against the wine-dark sky.
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DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
Sad, tired eyes gazed across the moor towards the cheery
‘What ails thee, Ralph?’
orange glow of Cromwell’s camp. Sir Harry Cooke rubbed a Grey glanced down at the decrepit main hall in which the wounded hand against his brow and sat down heavily men were huddled.
against the crumbling castle rampart. Routed, by Christ.
‘They’re out of sorts, Sir Harry,’ he said with a sigh.
Routed!
Cooke grimaced. ‘We’ve suffered a great defeat, Ralph. I He boiled with frustration. Why did the King allow his would expect no less.’
armies to be led by such incompetents? Rupert, the arrogant Grey shook his head slowly. ‘No sir, ‘tis this place.’
fool, had calmly taken supper though Cooke had warned of
‘This old ruin? What of it?’
impending attack. ‘They have not your sensibilities, your Grey ran a finger across his beard. ‘The men are afraid, Highness,’ he had insisted through clenched teeth, ‘and care my lord. They feel there is some evil at work here.’
little for the lateness of the hour.’
Cooke