Doctor Who_ The Myth Makers - Donald Cotton [20]
She sneered, offensively: ‘And why do you imagine they allowed you to capture it?’
This was going too far – even from a sister one has known from infancy.
‘ Allowed me to? Now, look here, Cassandra, I don’t think you quite appreciate the sort of effort that went into –’
She ignored his local outburst. ‘ Where did you find it?’ she persevered, not letting up for an instant.
‘Now, where do you think? Out there on the plain, for goodness sake.’
‘Unguarded, I suppose?’
‘Well as a matter of fact, yes. They’re getting very careless these days.’
‘I thought as much! Don’t you see, you were meant to bring it into Troy?’
‘No, I don’t frankly. And furthermore...’
‘I think I’m beginning to,’ contributed Priam, gloomily.
Paris was now thoroughly on the defensive: ‘Now, just what are you both getting at? Always have to try and spoil everything for me, don’t you?’
Cassandra struck a dramatic pose, as though it had offended her in some way. ‘This has broken my dream! The auguries were bad today, I awoke full of foreboding!’
‘I never knew you when you didn’t.’
‘Paris,’ said Priam, ‘your sister is high priestess; let her speak.’
‘Ah, very well, very well,’ said Paris, yawning behind his chin-guard, ‘what was this dream of yours, Cassandra?’
‘Thank you! I dreamed that on the plain the Greeks had left a gift, and although what it was remained unclear, we brought it into Troy. Then in the night, from out its belly soldiers came, and fell upon us as we slept.’
‘That’s it?’ asked Paris. ‘Yes – well, I hardly think you need to interpret that one! Really, Cassandra, have you taken a good look at this gift – as you call it? Go on, take your time – examine it carefully – that’s right. Now, just how many soldiers do you think are lurking in it? A regiment, perhaps? I hate to disappoint you, old thing, but you’d be lucky to prise even two small Spartans out of that.’
‘Fools! Even one man could unbar the gates, and so admit an army! It’s exactly the sort of scheme Odysseus would think of!’
‘Then I hope I’m not being too practical for everybody,’
returned Priam, reasonably, ‘but why don’t we open the thing and see?’
‘Well, that’s rather the trouble,’ said Paris. ‘There does seem to be a sort of door – but it won’t open...’
‘What did I tell you?’ shrieked Cassandra, like an owl stuck in a chimney, ‘It’s locked from the inside!’ And she beat her breast, in what must have been rather a painful way.
‘Oh, is it?’ Priam seized Paris’s sword, ‘Stand back! I have a short way with locks.’ And he attacked the door of the TARDIS
with ill-concealed malevolence. Not a dent or a blemish, however.
Paris swallowed a smug smile. ‘Perhaps you’ll believe me, next time? Cassandra, would you like to try?’
She rejected the offer with dignity. ‘The thing need not be opened. Bring branches, fire and sacrificial oil! We will make of it an offering to the gods of Troy – and if there be someone within, so much the greater gift.’
While attendants, servitors and scullions scurried about to fetch the necessary, Paris had one final go at saving his hard-earned trophy.
‘Now wait a moment all of you! Whatever it may be, the thing is mine – I found it! So leave it alone, can’t you?’
But Priam’s blood was really up now. He’d not only hurt his thumb on the door; but like Odysseus and Agamemnon before him, he resented being made a fool of, in front of the staff. ‘Out of the way, boy! The thing must be destroyed before it harms us!
Further.’ he added, inspecting his damaged digit. Then, brandishing a burning branch, in a somewhat irresponsible manner, I thought, with so much sacrificial oil splashing about the place, he prepared to set fire to the TARDIS.
12
Small Prophet, Quick Return
From what I had heard the Doctor tell Odysseus, I suspected that the machine was pretty well indestructible anyway, but on the other hand, at the last count, one of our time travellers was missing. Or so Steven had told the Doctor; a young girl, if memory served – and naturally I didn’t want her to be barbecued