Doctor Who_ The Paradise of Death - Barry Letts [87]
She had never felt anything remotely like it before.
She’d had her quota of tears, of course, but this? It was as if
– as if she were weeping inside; grieving for the loss of something which had never been hers, and now never could be. And yet – Oh, Waldo! she said in her mind. If only it was me instead!
Having wrapped herself in the soft knitted robe she found waiting on her bed, and tied the scarf around her neck, she hurried back. As she ran through the neat streets of the camp, she could hear the joyful chatter of the Kimonyans preparing for the feast, and just across the bridge, she could see them starting to gather by the warm glow of the fires.
As she neared the hut, she heard the voices of Onya and the Doctor. Onya was clearly displeased. Sarah stopped.
She didn’t want to walk into the middle of a row.
‘What else could we have done?’ the Doctor was saying.
Onya didn’t answer. Then he said, ‘In any case, I think the point may be an academic one.’
Onya said, ‘I’m afraid you’re right,’ and fell silent again.
Sarah went in.
Waldo was lying on the bed with a neat bandage on his upper chest. The Doctor was covering the blanket which lay over him with a skin of close grained fur which looked like sable, whilst Onya folded his bloodstained clothes.
Apart from his almost imperceptible breathing, he lay quite still. His skin, waxen in the light of the flickering oil lamp, was drawn tight to the bones of his face.
There hadn’t been much point in her haste. ‘Is he... is he going to be all right?’ she said. What a stupid question.
You only had to look at him.
There was an appreciable pause before the Doctor spoke. ‘We’ve made him as comfortable as we can,’ he said.
‘We just have to hope for the best.’
She sat down by the bed. She wanted to take his hand, but it was hidden under the blanket.
The door opened. It was Kaido. He was wearing a full-length multi-coloured robe and his face was ceremoniously painted in a whirling pattern. Behind him, Sarah could see Jeremy lurking – and the Brigadier too.
‘The meat is roasted, Mamonya,’ said Kaido. ‘The feast awaits our guests.’
Jeremy poked his head in the door. ‘Smells like Sunday dinner at school,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if they’d got Yorkshire pud and all.’
Oh Jeremy!
Kaido politely stood to one side. For a moment nobody moved. Sarah became aware that everybody was looking at her.
‘Oh. Oh, Doctor, I couldn’t eat a thing. I’d rather stay here with Waldo.’
‘I think you should come, Sarah. It’s important that we should all be there. The feast is being held in our honour, you see.’
When she didn’t move, he came over to her. ‘We shan’t be far away,’ he said gently.
They were all waiting for her. Reluctantly, she rose and went out. She stood by Jeremy and waited for the others.
The Brigadier put a hand on her arm. ‘Stiff upper lip, old girl,’ he said.
Except in so far as Kaido was their leader (and he seemed to be treated more like a big brother), there appeared to be very little awareness of class in the Kimonyan society.
There was no question of the best venison being reserved for the chief and his guests. People sat where they liked, and wandered round the circle of fires, chatting to their friends and claiming a favourite tit-bit of meat from whichever spit was the nearest.
The whole village was there, all dressed in their most colourful robes. Even the little children running from group to group as though the whole village belonged to the same family had their faces painted in intricate patterns.
The sap-wine was as freely available as the succulent meat (though nobody seemed to drink it immoderately) and before long the general tone of merriment and celebration had risen to a height which even drowned out the rival party going on in the camp club, which sounded to be a far less decorous affair.
‘Your food warms the belly as your welcome warms the heart, Kaido; said the Doctor. ‘We thank you.’
‘I hear your words as the words of a brother,’ replied Kaido. ‘Fill your hearts with our love and your bellies with our