Doctor Who_ The Myth Makers - Donald Cotton [42]
‘What plan?’ lisped the idiot child.
‘Well, obviously, you know far more about it than I do – I’m not entirely sure of the details – but I must say, that spell you concocted put the fear of Olympus into me; and I bet it’ll have done the same to the Greeks by now!’
‘Oh, that?’ she said, catching on rather late in the day. ‘Do you really think so? It was only an experiment, after all.’
‘Well, of course it’s only about an hour since you did it, so it may be rather early to say. But it should be dawn by now, and I’d think there’d be some sign of movement, if it’s going to work at all. Tell you what, Troilus – why don’t you scoot up to one of the watch-towers, and see if the retreat’s started yet? I’d be jolly interested to know!’
He looked at me with his eyes popping like seed-pods in summer, so did Vicki and Steven, come to that. Not having my privileged information, they obviously thought my wound had produced new complications of a dangerous nature.
And then Troilus darted off on his errand like Atalanta in a marathon – though remembering, damnit, to lock the cell door behind him. ‘Wait here,’ he said, ridiculously, ‘I’ll go and see!’
And off he went.
23
A Victory Celebration
We didn’t have to wait very long: he was back in no time, bubbling with euphoria. Yes – the Greeks had gone! Not a ship to be seen anywhere, so presumably they’d sailed for home; and presumably Cressida, the wonder-girl who tells your fortune, speaks your weight, and halves the house-work, was responsible!
Anyway, Paris had gone to make cautiously sure; but there seemed to be no doubt about the matter: and since, as the slogan writers were already saying, a Greek defeat was joy for Troy, would we care to come upstairs to a hastily summoned conference-cum-saturnalia that Priam was preparing for us?
Wild revelry, tumult, and little savoury biscuits there would be –
he could promise us that!
Well, of course we would so care – although there was some little local difficulty at first about whether Diomede was included in the invitation: I mean ‘bring a friend’ is one thing, but ‘an enemy alien’ quite another.
However, as I pointed out, since his former associates and colleagues had left him lurching, there wasn’t a lot he could do to undermine Troy all on his own – so why not forget and forgive? And the point was taken – as usual I had to think of everything! – so, by the time we entered the State Apartments, we were all congratulating each other like old friends wondering who’s going to pay for the drinks! Very uproarious and convivial, the whole thing!
A bevy of dancing girls was high-stepping it about the ballroom, scattering rose petals all over the mosaic – never mind that someone would have to sweep them up afterwards.
Helen was smouldering as usual; but rather thoughtfully, I fancied; because it had probably just occurred to her, amid the general rejoicing, that if Menelaus really had gone back to Sparta, then she could whistle for any alimony she might have been expecting.
And Cassandra, poor dear, had slipped into something more than usually grotesque for the occasion – an eye-catching little snake-skin number, with trimmings of sack-cloth and ashes –
because really she’d achieved the necromancer’s equivalent of forecasting hail in a heat-wave, hadn’t she? But never mind –
she’d get her gloomy revenge before too long, if I wasn’t very much mistaken...
However, old King Priam was on top of his form. He advanced to meet us, dithering with delight, as if to say he’d always known the prodigal daughter would come up trumps; and any fatted calves in the vicinity had better watch out, if they knew what was good for them.
‘Cressida, my dear girl,’ he said, ‘why on earth couldn’t you have told us before you were going to do something like this?
You’d have saved yourself all that time in the cells – and us a great deal of needless worry!’
‘She didn’t tell you,’ croaked Cassandra, absolutely in mid-season shape, ‘because it’s some kind of treachery! Don’t trust her further, father!’
And