Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [102]
Ben caught his breath and turned to face Scrope.
‘Now,’ he said patiently, ‘this is going to be difficult. But just let me do the talking and maybe we can get to see someone in authority.’
Scrope laughed his high, cackling laugh and held his sides, like a filthy leprechaun. ‘Lord save you, lad!’ he chortled.
‘There’s no need for diplomacy. Just come with me.’
To Ben’s amazement he marched straight to the great double doors. Two Roundhead sentries were posted there and, at the sight of Scrope, both nodded and stepped aside.
Scrope beckoned to Ben, who, not quite believing what was happening, was ushered through into the draughty stone interior.
He had visited the Commons, the other Commons, as a child but this was a much smaller and more intimate place.
The beamed roof was quite low and there was not the same kind of ornamentation as the more familiar Parliament possessed. The overall effect was like a great tithe bam.
While Ben was gazing about, Scrope walked boldly past further sentries, exchanging chitchat all the way.
Ben followed close behind, noticing that all the soldiers held their noses as Scrope passed. Some looked at him almost with pity, as if to say ‘Rather you than me, mate’.
They reached a further set of doors, this time guarded by a single sentry. He barred Scrope’s way with his pikestaff.
‘I wish to see John Thurloe,’ said Scrope imperiously.
The sentry nodded. ‘Yes, sir. One moment, sir.’
Ben tapped the old man on the shoulder. ‘Who are you?’
Scrope grinned at him but didn’t reply. A second later, the door opened and they were ushered into a large and rather sumptuous chamber.
The guard went out again, leaving Ben and Scrope alone in the room.
‘’Ere,’ said Ben worriedly. ‘Is this all right? I mean... are you sure we should be ‘ere?’
Scrope shrugged. ‘Is it not our right? This is our Parliament after all. And Parliament is for the people.’
Rapid footsteps sounded outside and two figures entered in a great hurry. One was a neat, black-clothed man with a long, bony face. The other, imposing, red of face and looking very angry, was very familiar to Ben.
‘Blimey,’ said Ben swallowing. ‘Cromwell!’
Thurloe and Cromwell turned to him, then back to Scrope.
‘Nat?’ said Thurloe impatiently. ‘What is it? What do you have for me?’
Scrope bowed to both men and then indicated Ben.
‘This is Ben Jackson, sir. A most loyal fellow, recently returned from Amsterdam.’
Cromwell peered at Ben. ‘I trust you had a pleasant trip, sir?’
Ben shook his head.’No, I didn’t. You see...’
He trailed off, not quite sure how to begin. Scrope patted him on the shoulder.
‘You are the Doctor’s friend?’ said Thurloe.
Ben’s expression betrayed his relief. ‘He’s here?’
‘Aye,’ said Cromwell. ‘And facing grievous charges.’
Thurloe held up a gloved hand. ‘Nay, General. Those cannot stand. I do believe this Doctor to be a man of honour.’
Cromwell harrumphed. ‘And what of this girl? She who abetted the King’s escape?’
Thurloe grimaced impatiently. ‘Please, General. Let us hear Master Scrope’s story.’
‘Oh,’ said Cromwell sulkily. ‘Very well.’
He stepped back a little and placed his hands behind his back in his familiar pose. Rapidly, Scrope outlined what Ben had told him: the mysterious voyage to Amsterdam, the Dutchman and the strange reference to a ‘package’, Stanislaus’s known enmity to the Parliamentarians, and finally the revelation that the man Godley was none other than Prince Rupert.
‘Rupert?’ spat Cromwell. ‘I thought we’d seen the last of that arrogant puppy.’ Thurloe clasped his hands together and frowned. ‘What is it that they can be planning? If Rupert has dared to return it must be a grand matter. No petty plot would bring him back to England. He began to pace up and down. ‘I must speak to the woman Polly. She is our one contact with these conspirators.’ Cromwell spun on his heel and to face the guard. ‘Fetch the Doctor!’
Stanislaus, Rupert, and van Leeuwenhoek stood in a line, awaiting the arrival of the King.
The Pole was so tall that