Doctor Who_ The Myth Makers - Donald Cotton [48]
26
Abandon Ship!
I’d told Katarina to pile on the agony a bit; because it was going to take more than a sick headache to prize Vicki away from the proceedings – I could tell that. So I watched with some concern as she listened to the tale of woe; and such an interesting blend of expressions flitted anxiously about her face that it fairly broke my heart to see it.
Her first reaction, of course, was to consult Troilus in the matter: but fortunately he’d chosen that moment to step out onto the balcony with Paris and their father, to acknowledge the vox of the populi.
Then the poor tortured child, so happy a moment ago, but now torn by divided loyalties, seemed to come to a decision –
and not before time! She looked across the crowded room, that disenchanted evening, and caught my remaining eye; then she nodded gloomily, gave me a pathetic wave, brushed away a tear or two – and, having dealt with these formalities, slipped silently out into the night with Katarina. Well done, that girl!
Relieved, I turned to the next item on my agenda, and tapped Steven on the shoulder – by bad luck choosing rather a crucial moment in his routine, and causing him to drop one of the chairs on his toe.
‘What in Hades are you doing back here?’ he snarled, in welcome.
‘I was too late,’ I told him. ‘And if you’ll stop showing off for a moment, and give your attention to the speciality act at the top of the bill, you’ll see that the horse is waiting in the wings with fun and massacre for all, regardless of expense. Vicki has therefore gone to wait for the Doctor in the TARDIS. Go and do thou likewise!’
To do him credit, he got my drift at once; and pausing only to say he thought it a bit thick that I hadn’t managed to hold up the invading force on my own, he handed me his remaining chair, and set off after the others.
So that was that. Except for Troilus, of course.
I had toyed with the idea of sending him to the TARDIS as well, so that he could live happily ever after with Vicki; but on second thoughts, I realized that wouldn’t do at all. Apart from my not knowing how many passengers the thing was licensed for, I wasn’t, on reflection, at all sure how he would react. Even though he was in love with his Cressida, he was still a loyal Trojan – and might even decide to arrest the whole boiling of them, when he discovered what he would take to be their treachery.
That’s the trouble with these clean-limbed, clear-eyed types, with determined jaws: they’re liable to put Country before Love, and Honour before either of them, if you catch them in the wrong mood. So you have to be a bit careful and sound the ground.
Another thing was that the Doctor was unlikely to find a chance of making his excuses to his new cronies, and sprinting for the TARDIS, until after the battle had commenced, and they were busy with other matters; so it was going to be a close-run thing anyway, without his having jealous young princes arguing the toss about the rights and wrongs of the proceedings.
No – I did what I hoped was the next best thing – and never mind having to live with myself afterwards; I’d got used to that over the years, and you can’t always choose the company you’d like.
‘Dear young Prince of the blood,’ I said; ‘am I right in supposing that my friend Cressida is dearer to you than all the jewels of the Orient, and sweeter than Springtime, to boot?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that myself,’ he mused, ‘but the supposition is sound in essentials.’
‘Then,’ I said, treacherously, but meaning well, ‘I think you should know that she and Diomede have just strolled outside for a moment. They spoke of a short walk in the moonlight – out in the countryside...’
He sagged at the knees, as well he might, poor boy. ‘Thank you, Cyclops,’ he said, ‘I shan’t forget this.’ I knew I wouldn’t, either; or forgive myself, come to that. But