Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [17]
The Doctor toyed with the tassel of his cloak and stuffed the book back into his pocket. ‘Oh, they’ve not banned it yet, Jamie. And it never did go away. Not properly. A lot of that is just propaganda.’ He looked up and smiled. ‘Come on. Let’s see if we can find any wassailers!’
‘Any what?’ said Jamie.
But the Doctor had gone.
Parliament House was joined to a series of newer buildings which had been erected earlier in the century. Their black beams and white plaster contrasted sharply with the old stone of the main section but seemed nonetheless charming to Ben and Polly, who were skulking in a doorway close by.
Their wanderings had brought them to the square and they had stopped at the sight of the soldiers who had so nearly run them down.
Ben shivered inside his cloak and peered at the activity in fascinated bemusement.
‘Ere, what d’you reckon’s going on, Pol?’ he said at last.
Polly shrugged, feeling the cold numbing her nose and hands. ‘Search me. This is Parliament though, isn’t it?’
Ben frowned. ‘Is it? Looks different.’
‘Well, that’s because the one we know hasn’t been built yet,’ chided Polly impatiently. ‘This one was burnt down.’
Ben grinned and gave a low whistle. ‘You must’ve been a right swot at school, Duchess.’
Polly grinned and then returned her attention to the soldiers. She seemed deeply interested.
Another great shiver convulsed through Ben and he pulled his cloak tightly around him like the wings of a sleeping bat.
‘It’s taters out here,’ he complained.
‘Pardon?’
‘Taters. Taters’ mould. Cold,’ he explained.
‘Oh,’ said Polly without much interest.
Ben felt a shiver run through his jaw and tried to laugh. ‘I can’t believe it. My teeth are chattering. I thought that only happened in stories.’
He turned to Polly and put his head on her shoulder like a tired boy. ‘Can’t we go somewhere warmer to look at the local colour, Mummy?’
Polly tutted at him. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’
Ben gave a wry grin. ‘I think it’s dropped off.’
She continued to peer ahead, her eyes and nose running with the cold. ‘I wonder what they’re up to. Looks like the soldiers won’t let those other men inside.’
Ben hugged at his cloak again and this time heard a faint jingle. He looked down. ‘Hello?’ Putting his hand inside the cloak, he produced the little leather purse which the Doctor had used earlier. Ben smiled. ‘The crafty beggar. He’s set us up nicely for the day, hasn’t he?’ He spilled out a selection of silver coins from the purse. ‘It’s like getting pocket money on a school trip.’
Polly examined some of the coins. ‘Lucky for us they’re the right period. I wonder how the Doctor does it.’
‘Probably a happy accident, Pol,’ said Ben with a shrug.
‘Like the rest of the Doctor’s life.’ He weighed up the satisfyingly bulging purse in his hand. ‘So. What d’you say to a pie and a tot of rum?’
Polly pulled a face. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a pie but you’re on your own with the booze.’
‘Well, you can’t blame me, love,’ laughed Ben. ‘I’m a sailor. And they still had rum rations in these days!’
Polly turned back towards Parliament, her numbed features fixed in a frown. ‘I wish I knew what was going on here.’
Ben pulled at her sleeve. ‘Well, maybe we’d find out more if we actually mixed with some people. Come on, Pol. I’m perishing.’
He ushered Polly away from the strange scene and the biting wind which was surging through the narrow precincts of Parliament.
Unseen by either of them, a skinny man with a face like an old saddle, slipped out of a doorway and watched them pass.
His eyes remained fixed on Ben and, nodding to himself, he began to follow.
The Thames took many twists and turns along its course.
Some, like the wharf where Captain Stanislaus’s vessel lay moored, were fast-flowing and full of traffic; others, like the broad bend where the Doctor and Jamie found themselves, were much more sluggish. In such temperatures as that December of 1648 produced, the old river was wont to freeze and, to the Doctor’s undisguised delight, a fair