Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [13]
Moor sank back into his seat, his gaunt features pooling into shadow. ‘’Sfoot. I never thought it would come to this. I fought Charles, aye, fought him because he thought to rule this land without recourse to us, his Parliament. I cheered when we beat him because I thought... I thought...’
Christopher Whyte poured himself a mug of ale and contemplated its foamy weight in his hand. ‘You thought the Army would be content with that. A chastened King. But you underestimated their ambition, sir. The Army chiefs are set to be more the despot than ever Charles was.’
He drained the glass in one draught and wiped his clean-shaven face with the back of his hand.
Copper looked sideways at Whyte and gave a small smile, his gimlet eyes crinkling at the comers. Then he turned back to Moor. ‘You were away from the House the other day, Ben.
You know Fairfax has given orders to move him?’
Moor looked up. ‘His Majesty? Aye. To Hurst Castle, is it not?’
Copper nodded. ‘On the Solent.’
Moor gnawed at his knuckle and looked around the room at the other men. The weather and the winter made the place depressingly dark.
‘My friends,’ he murmured earnestly. ‘What are we do do?’
Whyte and Copper exchanged glances, then the older man spoke, his voice still calm but betraying a measure of contained excitement.
‘Never fear, Ben. There are ways and means. The Queen awaits His Majesty in France. Let us see if there is not some way they can be reunited.’
He smiled broadly, as did Whyte, leaving Moor and the others frowning in puzzlement.
‘Now then,’ said the Doctor cheerily. ‘What say we have a little look around?’
He had returned to find his companions just as he had left them, which was something of a relief as they often tended to go astray.
It had stopped snowing at last and the sky had brightened considerably, lending the street a sparkling, virginal charm.
The Doctor looked around, breathed deeply of the crisp air, and sucked absently on his finger. ‘Jamie and I will head towards the river, I think.’
‘Oh,’ said Polly. ‘Shouldn’t we stay together?’
The Doctor waved his hand airily. ‘Oh, it should be alright if you’re sensible. Anyway, Ben, wouldn’t you like some shore leave?’
Ben shrugged. ‘Suppose so.’
‘Well then,’ continued the Doctor, ‘that’s settled.’
Polly wasn’t so ‘sure. ‘What about all that stuff about getting acclimatised?’
The Doctor cleared his throat and pulled his cloak more tightly about him, as though he feared discovery of the children’s book in his pocket.
‘Yes, well. I didn’t have a lot of luck there, as I’ve explained. I’m sure we’ll get along all right. Just watch your tongues and be circumspect.’
‘Eh?’ said Jamie.
The Doctor patted him on the shoulder. ‘Yes, you come with me, Jamie.’
Polly held up her hand. ‘Hang on, Doctor. We don’t even know what year it is. We could be slap bang in the middle of the Civil Wars.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ lamented Ben.
‘Och,’ said Jamie, his Jacobite mettle showing. ‘Where’s your pluck, man? And you a sailor, too.’
Never one to resist a little baiting, Ben set his face determinedly. ‘All right. We will. Come on, Duchess.’
The Doctor clapped his hands together and gave a quick glance up and down the street. ‘We’ll meet you back at the TARDIS at sunset. All right? Come along, Jamie.’
Jamie turned to him. ‘Where’re we going?’
‘Come along,’ said the Doctor firmly, tugging at his sleeve.
Now the snow had ceased, the street was beginning to crowd again with carts and people, hurrying through.
‘What was all that about?’ said Ben with some asperity.
‘”I think it’d do us all good to spend some time on our own.”’
Polly laughed. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps our constantly harping on about getting back to 1966 is getting on his nerves a bit.’
Ben rubbed his chin. ‘Yeah but he’s not on his own, is he?
He’s got Jamie.’
Polly smiled. ‘Mm. Haven’t you noticed he prefers having someone around who doesn’t ask too many awkward questions?’
Ben ruffled his blond hair. ‘I hope we haven