Doctor Who_ The Myth Makers - Donald Cotton [37]
‘Then get back to your temple, before you give us all galloping religious mania! I really cannot face another of your tedious tirades at the moment!’
The church’s one foundation rocked on its heels.
‘Father,’ she appealed, ‘do you hear him?’
Priam smiled into his napkin: ‘Yes, it’s most refreshing.
Perhaps there is a man lurking behind that flaccid facade, after all.’
Having got so far without being struck from the records, Paris went further. ‘And I would be obliged, father, if you would refrain from patronizing me in front of the prisoner!’
Helen, of course, didn’t say anything, but her looks spoke slender volumes. You could tell she was impressed. Priam, on the other hand, wasn’t. ‘The prisoner? Yes, of course, that’s it!
One pathetic prisoner, and he thinks he’s Hercules, already!
Success has gone to his head!’
‘Before you start sneering at the prisoner, you’d better hear who he is. This is Diomede! Steven Diomede, possibly – but a lot of us have damn’ silly first names. And if you’ll take the trouble to look in the Greek Army Lists, you’ll discover he’s quite a catch!’
Flattered, Steven decided to take a hand. ‘Which none but you could have caught, O lion of Troy!’ he said humbly.
This went down like ipecacuanha after sago! The audience choked as one.
‘Eh?’ enquired Priam, rotating a finger in his ear.
‘What was that?’ demanded Cassandra, rotating in her turn, but through ninety degrees.
‘Yes, I thought you might be surprised,’ said Paris. ‘Want to tell them about our little spot of sabre-rattling, Diomede?’
Steven delivered a modified digest of their late encounter.
‘We fought; I was defeated; I am not ashamed. There is none in all our ranks who could stand against the wrath of Paris, when he seeks revenge!’
‘You see?’ Paris appealed to the company at large. ‘I am treated with more respect by the enemy than by my own family!’
‘Perhaps they don’t know you as well as we do,’ explained Cassandra, helpfully.
‘On the other hand, perhaps they know me rather better,’
said Paris, imperturbably, knocking back a nectar in one, ‘and perhaps the time has come, dear sister, to revise your opinions?’
‘I am perfectly familiar with my opinions, thank you; and revision will not be necessary. And the first of them is that Cressida and Diomede have clearly met before: so how do you explain that?’
‘My dear old entrail-watcher, how in Hades should I know?
But since Cressida says she pops about in Time as her whimsy wafts her, I should think she’s met lots of people, haven’t you, Cressida?’
‘That’s right,’ said Vicki, rising to the occasion, ‘of course, I have. Surely, Diomede, it was at the Olympic Games, last year?
You won the Pentathlon, didn’t you?’
‘So I did – I mean, so it was,’ said Steven, ‘and then we all went on to Diana’s Grove, afterwards; and you told everybody’s fortune, I remember. What a night that was! All came true, too!
Goodness knows how you did it.’
‘Just a knack!’ said Vicki, modestly.
‘Sorcery!’ snarled Cassandra, reverting to her main thesis.
‘Quite so,’ said Priam. ‘Well, whether it’s sorcery, or palmistry, or tea-leaves, or just time-travelling, or whatever it is, we could use some of it right now. So, if you are who you say you are, Cressida, now’s your chance to prove it: you must either give me information which will lead us to a speedy victory – or, if you prefer it, you can use your supernatural powers to turn the tide of battle in our favour. It’s entirely up to you.’
‘I’ll do what I can, of course,’ said Vicki, ‘but you must promise not to harm Diomede.’
‘I suppose that could be arranged – or, at any rate, postponed. Tell you what I’ll do: I’ll give you a whole day to come up with something. How about that?’
‘Well I’ll try,’ said Vicki, doubtfully, ‘but it’s not very long.
What happens if I can’t?’
Cassandra knew the answer to that one. ‘You will be burnt, as a sorceress, a false prophet, and a spy!’
‘Well, as one of them, anyway,’ conceded Priam, reasonably,
‘we don’t want to overdo things. And now, unless Paris has any objections, of course, I think you