Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [49]
Ben nodded to himself. ‘But if he’s just a kind of mercenary, why’s he so loyal to the King?’
Winter smiled. ‘He fancies he has blue blood himself, do you see? Claims to have been sired by the King of Poland.’
Without thinking, the big captain let out a loud chortle.
Ben clamped his hand over Winter’s mouth but it was too late. Shadows moved inside the house and footsteps hurried to the door.
Ben hauled Winter to her feet and they clattered as fast as they could across the courtyard and around the corner of the barn.
The door of the house flew open and Stanislaus stood framed there. His head moved from side to side like that of a great lizard as he scanned the darkness.
Ben and Winter pressed themselves flat against the wall, scarcely daring to breathe.
Then Ben’s concentration shifted as he felt a strange, heavy warmth on his foot. He looked down but couldn’t make anything out in the darkness. He almost gasped as he felt a warm, furry something brush past his leg.
Looking down hard, he make out a shape, a patch of blackness that was distinct from the night. There was a gentle, insistent clicking and Ben felt a shudder run through him.
Whatever it was was gnawing at his shoe.
Suddenly, some way off, a lamp was lit in another house, providing the exterior of the barn with just enough illumination for Ben to see that a big black rat was sitting on his foot.
It was incredibly long, obscenely fat, and sleek with moisture. Its scaly black tail was wrapped around Ben’s heel.
He let his breath stream out through his teeth, feeling his stomach flip over.
If only he could kick out his leg and throw the thing off...
But he knew that would be fatal. Stanislaus would see them and the game would be up.
The next breath he took, he held, as the rat began to draw closer to his trouser leg. He could feel its bristly fur poking through the material of his trousers and his hair stood on end at the horror of it.
He rolled his eyes and bit into his lower lip, screaming silently inside. If the rat got any closer he would have to cry out, have to smash the vile thing against the wall, anything to get it away from him.
The horrid weight on his foot shifted as the rat sat up on its hind legs and sniffed at Ben’s shin, its whiskers twitching.
Ben steadied himself. There was nothing he could do. No choice. He had to be rid of the disgusting creature...
Suddenly he saw the iron-capped end of Winter’s leg hove into view. The captain took aim and then swung her leg in a vicious kick which sent the rat flying across the courtyard.
It hit the ground squealing and scurried instantly into the darkest recesses of the place.
Stanislaus saw it and smiled grimly. He nodded to himself, then withdrew into the house, apparently satisfied. The door was closed and bolted after him.
Ben turned and winked at Winter. Then he sank back against the wall, sweat dribbling down his face.
Christopher Whyte swept his hat from his head and entered the room above the inn, a rectangle of yellowy light from the corridor spilling inside and revealing Sir John Copper, sitting in the darkness. Whyte hovered in the doorway until Copper spoke.
‘I am not asleep, Chris. Come inside. Quickly.’
Whyte closed the door and moved swiftly across the room while Copper lit the lamp. The older man looked up inquisitively. ‘Well?’
Whyte threw himself down in a chair and sighed. ‘I’ve had quite day,’ he said with a grin, flinging his hat into the comer and lifting his weary legs on to the table.
Copper smoothed his white moustache. ‘The girl?’
Whyte nodded. ‘She spent the night in St James’s Park and then wondered around like a lost thing until she came back here.’
‘Here?’
‘Aye. She ran into our landlord’s daughter and they went off on a little errand.’
Copper frowned and leaned forward. ‘Does she know anything?’
Whyte’s face fell a little. ‘I don’t know. She certainly hasn’t found that friend of hers, whoever he was.’ He closed his eyes and smiled. ‘You don’t know how hard it was not to offer her a bed last night.’
Copper grinned himself. ‘The ladies