Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [18]
‘Are you sure it’s safe, Doctor?’ queried Jamie, setting one foot gingerly off the snow-covered bank.
The Doctor had no such qualms and launched himself on to the frozen river, jumping up and down to show how thick and deep the ice went. ‘See? Solid as a rock. Londoners were used to it at this time. Something of a mini Ice Age, I think, Now come along, we’re missing all the fun.’
From one bank of the river to the other, a motley collection of stalls and tents had been erected. Some were rather plain, like simple market stalls which had simply migrated to the river; others, gaily patterned and bearing flags, betrayed their theatrical origins.
There were people everywhere, bustling and chattering and laughing. Children wheeled great iron hoops across the ice and some were daring each other to slide, scrambling and falling on their backsides, only to get up, giggling, and do it all again.
Men, huddled in knots, played dice or skittles, balls of one kind or another in permanent motion over the frozen surface of the river. Everywhere, there was food and drink, steaming in great copper pans, ladled into tumblers, a smell of rich spice and gin. Ginger, cloves, nutmeg; Jamie found himself grinning from ear to ear as he and the Doctor made their way through the crowds.
Suddenly there was a shout and laughter. A little fellow in ludicrous breeches that were three times too big for him ran across their path, hooting and whinnying like a mad beast. He carried a stick with some kind of bladder attached to the end and proceeded to beat himself over the head with it. Everyone laughed and turned to watch.
The Doctor pulled Jamie to one side. ‘Mummers,’ he whispered.
Jamie frowned. ‘Is that bad?’
The Doctor laughed. ‘Not at all. Well, I suppose it depends on your sense of humour.’
The little jester threw up his arms. He was wearing a costume of pale green, embroidered with ribbons, scarves, and laces. He wore gold earrings and there were other rings attached to his clothes as well as scores of bells on his legs so that he jangled whenever he moved.
‘Pray silence!’ he called. ‘For the Lord of Misrule!’
Another man emerged from a tent, wearing a paper crown and fluttering coloured handkerchiefs in both hands. Behind him came a man on a hobbyhorse, a drummer, a piper, and several figures who looked very like Robin Hood and his Merry Men.
‘What’s it all about?’ asked Jamie in some bewilderment.
The Doctor stuck out his lip in mock seriousness. ‘Being silly, I think. These poor people have been through an awful lot lately. They’re letting their hair down. And,’ he said, slipping away into the throng, ‘I think we should join them.’
Jamie followed after him, passing straight through the mummers’ pageant. The Doctor was already at a stall, buying what looked like a fruit cake.
He tore it in half and gave the larger portion to Jamie, grinning and stuffing his share into his mouth.
‘Now eat that up and we’ll find ourselves something to drink.’
Jamie suddenly felt thrilled with excitement, like Christmas when he was a boy. The wintry afternoon was already darkening and, now the snow had gone, the sky was a rich, midnight blue, speckled with stars.
Somewhere a man’s rich baritone was singing ‘Adam Lies Y’Bounden’, a carol Jamie could remember his mother singing as he sat at her side by the hearth at home.
Goodwill seemed to pour out of these people as though, as the Doctor had said, they were throwing off the miseries of the recent conflict.
Jamie saw jugglers, a performing monkey on a striped pedestal, and something that looked very like a primitive Punch and Judy show with Italian marionettes executing a strange, wild dance.
He caught up with the Doctor at another stall and this time he was handed a cup of steaming liquor. The Doctor sipped his drink and gave a little burp.
‘Oh, I say,’ he murmured. ‘It’s rather potent, isn’t it?’
Jamie was cold and took a deep draught of the stuff. He felt immediately warmed and not a little woozy, turning to see a great burly man who seemed to be