Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [59]
Ben shrugged apologetically. ‘See you in London,’ he said and raced from the room.
Ashdown watched them go and then, with a huge sigh, began to tidy up the captain’s cabin.
‘Now, Mr Cromwell,’ said the Doctor soothingly. ‘You mustn’t go around believing everything you read in books...’
Richard toyed miserably with the hem of his coat. ‘Then it’s not true?’
Jamie decided he had better say something, being the McCrimmon of Culloden and all.
‘It’s just a wee fancy,’ he said. ‘We bought it for a shilling in a bookshop in Edinburgh.’
Richard frowned. ‘It says on the first page that it comes from London.’ He looked up and to the side, as though summoning a spirit, and recited from memory: ‘ “Made and printed in England for the publishers B.T. Batsford Limited, London and... Malvern Wells by Unwin Brothers Limited, the Gresham Press, Woking, Surrey”.’
The Doctor opened his mouth to interrupt but Richard continued. ‘ “First impression, October 1919. This impression, November 1920”.’
Jamie sidled over to the Doctor and bent to whisper in his ears. ‘We’re in trouble, aren’t we?’
The Doctor nodded. ‘And it’s true.’
‘What is?’
‘First impressions last,’ said the Doctor with a smile.
Jamie shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed as the Doctor approached Richard Cromwell.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘You know who we are. Speculating about the future is our business. We have to keep an eye on the...
er... competition. And that’s what that book is. Just a silly bit of fluff by one of the McCrimmon’s rivals.’
The Doctor frowned suddenly. ‘You haven’t got it with you, by any chance?’
Richard looked up. ‘What?’
‘The book?’ said the Doctor hopefully.
Richard shook his head. ‘It is in my bedchamber.’
The Doctor smiled at Jamie and breathed a relieved sigh.
‘I wouldn’t go showing it to anybody else. It could upset them.’
‘It’s upset me!’ cried Richard. ‘It says I will be known as
“Tumbledown Dick”! That I shall rule for only a few scant months after my father’s death and I shall never be half the man he is!’
He sobbed bitterly into his lacy handkerchief. The Doctor stepped forward and put a soothing hand on his shoulder.
‘There, there. There’s no need to worry. As I said, it’s pure speculation. A fake designed to fool the gullible.’
Richard looked up with red-rimmed eyes. ‘Then what will become of me? Of all of us? If you really are what you say, then tell me the future! Tell me, or I shall have my father string you from Tyburn’s gibbet!’
The Doctor folded his arms and rubbed his eyes. This was going to be difficult.
The spray hit Ben full in the face and he closed his eyes as the Demeter ploughed forward into the waves. The ship, as old and hoary as its disreputable captain, was nevertheless a pleasant little vessel, her oaken planks stained almost black with age. Ice hung in the stiff, knotted rigging.
Ben stood on the prow of the vessel, holding tightly to a forward mast as the ship plunged and rose on the heavy swell.
The salty air in his lungs made him feel glad and, after the events of the previous night, somewhat grateful to be alive.
Around him, Captain Winter’s crew worked steadily. They were a strange collection, almost as motley as the customers at the Dutch tavern, and had clearly been drawn from many different lands. But they seemed noticeably more cheerful than the crew of the Teazer and Ben was happy to have joined their company.
Now they were speeding back towards London and, Ben was confident, a reunion with his friends.
He frowned as he thought of them. He knew the Doctor and Jamie would be all right, but what about Polly? When he’d last seen her she was being dragged away by that gang of men. Ben knew what kind of things people got up to in Stuart England and didn’t fancy Polly’s chances of getting through it with her modesty, and possibly her sanity, intact.
He let the wind blow through his blond hair and over his face for a few moments more and then turned back towards the main body of the ship.
Making his way through the sweating ranks of the crew, who all spared