Doctor Who_ The Awakening - Eric Pringle [36]
Will intended to stop when he reached the shelter of the village, and not before.
Tegan stood at another window now, in Ben Wolsey’s seventeenth-century parlour. She looked out at his garden, crammed with cottage flowers, whose loveliness expressed all the country pleasures she had hoped to find in her grandfather’s home.
She sighed ... and stealthily moved her hand towards the window catch, which was just above her head. If she could reach that and open the window without the farmer seeing her, she would he out before he could move. Willow had left her in Wolsey’s charge while he sought Sir George Hutchinson; since she was not so afraid of this gentle giant as she had been of the sadistic Sergeant, she was more willing to take chances.
But Wolsey, who was standing in front of the fireplace, had seen Tegan’s arm move. He watched it slide almost imperceptibly upwards, and smiled to himself and shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t get very far if you tried to escape,’
he said.
The softly spoken words broke a long silence and startled Tegan. She twisted round and shouted ‘What!’ at Wolsey, in a voice so harsh it startled her even more than him. There was anger in it, and shattered nerves, and sheer frustration: she was close to breaking down.
Wolsey understood. His tone was sympathetic. ‘There are troopers everywhere,’ he explained.
‘I wouldn’t dream of putting you all to so much trouble!’
Tegan shouted.
Wolsey seemed embarrassed. His manner was surprisingly uncertain, and even apologetic as he said, ‘I rather think we’re all Sir George’s prisoners at the moment.’ Then he smiled reassuringly: ‘If it’s any comfort to you, your grandfather is safe.’
Relief gushed from Tegan in another shout, this time a cry of pleasure. She ran eagerly to the farmer. ‘Then let me see him!’ she demanded.
‘All in good time.’ A coldly calculating voice killed Tegan’s happiness in the moment of its birth. She paused in mid-stride as Sir George appeared in the doorway. There was a smirk of victory on his face, and he gestured dramatically with his Cavalier’s hat as he came into the room and walked slowly around her, appraising her, examining her in the May Queen dress as if he was looking at the points of a piece of horseflesh. ‘You look charming, my dear,’ he gloated, ‘positively charming.’
The compliment, coming from those eyes and that smile, made Tegan feel unclean. ‘Thanks for nothing„’ she said, and shrank away from hint, angry and embarrassed.
‘Can I have my own clothes back, please?’
Sir George leaned towards her. His face was eager and his eyes were as bright as stars. ‘But you’re to be our Queen of the May! You must dress the part.’ He was purring like a cat now, a sound which made Tegan’s skin crawl.
‘Look,’ she said frantically, ‘I’m in no mood for playing silly games!’
‘But this isn’t a game.’ Suddenly Sir George’s tone and expression were deadly serious. They contained an intensity which shook Wolsey into alertness. His next words astonished both of them. ‘You,’ he said to Tegan,
‘are about to take part in an event that will change the future of mankind.’
7
Tegan the Queen
The bare brick walls of the hut had once been painted white; now they were merely dingy. A window protected by iron bars allowed barred sunlight to slant brightly across a floor furnished with forgotten bales of straw.
On one of these Andrew Verney sat. He gazed, without much hope, at Turlough who was testing the window bars for signs of weakness. He had tried them himself, and knew there were none.
‘Solid,’ Turlough sighed. He moved away from the window, leaned his back against a wall and looked curiously at the old man. ‘Why are they keeping you a prisoner here?’ he asked.
‘Because of what I discovered,’ Verney said, returning Turlough’s scrutiny with a gaze tinged with sadness.
Seeing Turlough’s uncomprehending expression, he added, ‘Have you been to the church?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Now Turlough understood only too well. He picked up a dusty oil drum, carried in over to Verney