Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [8]
There’s so many of ’em. All those wives Henry Five had.’
The Doctor sighed. ‘Eight.’
‘Was it as many as that?’ said Ben in genuine surprise.
The Doctor shook his head. ‘No, no. Henry the Eighth, not the Fifth, Ben. And it was six wives.’
‘Divorced, beheaded, died,’ cried Polly brightly.
‘Divorced, beheaded, survived,’ concluded the Doctor with a grin.
Jamie gave them both a puzzled look and the Doctor sighed, turning to face Polly as though she were his last chance. ‘What about you, Polly?’
Polly shrugged and brushed her blonde fringe from her eyes. ‘Well, I seem to remember the King fell out with Parliament, didn’t he? He thought he could do pretty much anything he wanted because his power came directly from God.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘That’s it. Divine Right, they called it.’
Ben gave a rueful smile. ‘Have you got a rhyme for that, too?’
Polly poked out her tongue at him and then continued with a giggle. ‘Anyway, there was a civil war and the Roundheads cut King Charles’s head off.’
‘Blimey!’ cried Ben.
Polly finished her orange and wiped her hands on her cloak. ‘It always made me rather sad,’ she said. ‘Poor old Charles.’
The Doctor cleared his throat. ‘Yes, quite.’ He stuffed the orange peel into his trouser pocket and turned to Jamie. ‘And what about you, my lad?’
The Highlander pulled a face and looked away. ‘Oh, I’m like Ben,’ he said. ‘I never fashed myself much about history.’
The Doctor looked appalled. ‘But this only happened a hundred years before your time, Jamie. You should be giving us the history lesson.’
Jamie’s face clouded. ‘Aye, well. I was a piper, wasn’t I? I never had much time to look at school books.’
The Doctor gave a little smile and winked at Ben and Polly. ‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I’ve an idea. As we might spend some time here perhaps we should be a little better prepared.’
‘How’d you mean?’ asked Ben.
The Doctor twiddled his thumbs and looked up at the sky.
‘The fact is, I’m not quite the fount of all wisdom which you think me.’
‘Oh aye?’ said Jamie with a chuckle.
‘No,’ continued the Doctor. ‘I think a little refresher course in the customs, manners, and politics of this time wouldn’t go amiss.’
Polly pulled a face. ‘That’s not like you, Doctor. We normally just go blundering into things.’
‘Eh?’ snapped the Doctor testily.
‘What she means,’ said Ben placatingly, ‘is that we don’t normally prepare for these things. Isn’t that half the fun?’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Of course. Of course it is. But this was a very dangerous time. We must be careful.’ His expression grew suddenly grave, emphasising the deep lines on his face. ‘Loyalties are in a state of constant flux. This conflict tore apart friends and families and it wasn’t unusual for fathers and sons to fight on opposite sides.’
Polly’s mouth turned down. ‘A civil war in every sense.’
‘Exactly. So we don’t want to upset anyone or get ourselves into trouble needlessly because we’re ignorant of what’s going on. I’ll pop back to the TARDIS. There’s bound to be just the sort of thing we need in the library.’
Jamie nodded. ‘All right, Doctor. We’ll wait here.’
The Doctor headed back the way they had come, his cloak flapping behind him. ‘Shan’t be a tick. Don’t talk to any strangers.’
The three of them watched him disappear into the dark alley.
‘I hope it’s got lots of pictures,’ said Jamie with a groan.
William Kemp stamped his feet on a rough twig mat as he entered the rear of the inn. Snow fell from his shoes and on to the stone floor like powder. He gave the kitchen the benefit of his scowl, ignoring the pleasant atmosphere of busy cooking which permeated the room.
Huge copper pots were affixed to the walls, hanging above cheeses, meats, and preserves of all kinds. Dried, salted fish were stacked in a pile on top of three or four long wooden tables, their surfaces blotched and cracked with wear.
Kemp closed the door behind him, shivered, and