Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [53]
‘Naturally I do. Sal Winter never runs from a fight. Especially if it’s with that damned Pole and his gang of cutthroats!’
Ben chuckled to himself. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Now, how about this? Why don’t we try and get aboard the Teazer and have a root around? Maybe there’s something in Stanislaus’s cabin that’ll give us a clue to this whole thing.’
Winter gave an enthusiastic nod. ‘Aye. If we hurry we might just steal a march on every man jack of ’em.’
Keeping close to the walls, the incongruous pair set off at a swift pace for the docks.
The first dreary streaks of dawn were spreading through the sky when the door to the Doctor and Jamie’s quarters was opened. The key turned silently in the lock and a figure stole inside, his long black coat, which hung almost down to his boots, whispering around his legs. He scanned the room carefully.
There was the boy, sound asleep on top of the bed. Next to him, the curve of the Doctor’s shoulder could be made out.
The boy was snoring gently.
The newcomer was about to step closer when the Doctor’s voice came out of nowhere.
‘Shall I shed a little light on things, Mr Thurloe? There’s really no need for all this skulduggery.’
Thurloe whirled around in surprise. The Doctor’s voice was coming from the window casement. A match was struck and a candle lit, revealing the little man, in shirtsleeves, sitting cross-legged on the sill and smiling.
He nodded towards the bed and the bundle he had made from a pillow and his frock coat.
‘It’s an obvious ruse, I know,’ he said. ‘But they’re often the most effective.’
Thurloe gave a small, grudging smile. ‘Well versed in the arts of espionage, Doctor?’
‘Oh, I dabble,’ said the Doctor. ‘But aren’t you the spymaster around these parts?’
Thurloe crossed the room and, lifting the skirts of his coat, sat down opposite the Doctor.
He looked out of the window on to the snowy gardens outside. He could see the outlines of hedges and leafless trees beginning to emerge.
‘You know that I am not as easily taken in by portents and prophecies as is the general,’ he stated flatly.
The Doctor looked at him interestedly. ‘I’d be disappointed if you were.’
Thurloe turned and caught the Doctor’s gaze. His face was thrown into stark relief by the dawn light and the sputtering candle flame. ‘You’ll be more closely questioned tomorrow, I can assure you.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘And of course it’s your job to protect the general from any charlatans or enemies of the state who seek to... er... bamboozle him?’
‘Precisely!’ cried Thurloe. ‘Charlatans or enemies of the state. You put it very succinctly, Doctor.’
The Doctor looked over towards Jamie. ‘We don’t mean any harm, you know. We’re just travellers. And he’s scarcely more than a boy.’
Thurloe nodded slowly and then looked away.
‘There is darkness all around us, Doctor,’ he said at last.
The Doctor looked out of the window. ‘Not really. I think it might be quite a pleasant day,’ he said brightly.
Thurloe shook his head. ‘That is not what I meant.’
The Doctor frowned and the lines on his face grew deeper.
‘Oh. I see.’
Thurloe folded his arms and suddenly began to speak very rapidly. ‘Parliament will shortly vote through the trial of the King. If he is executed there will be a new order in this land. I do not doubt that the kingmakers will attempt to place the crown upon the general’s head.’
The Doctor nodded, with an expression of feigned ignorance on his face.
‘I am completely loyal to the general, you must understand that,’ continued Thurloe. The Doctor nodded again. ‘But I fear that the mood of the people may turn his head. He is a God-fearing man, but there could be such clamour for him to take the crown.’
Thurloe looked levelly at the Doctor. ‘I do not think this should happen. Cromwell did not want to destroy the monarchy. The monarchy has destroyed itself. And if that is the way it must be, it must remain destroyed.’
The Doctor cleared his throat. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Thurloe examined his fingernails in the candlelight.
‘The general sets much