Doctor Who_ The Stone Rose - Jacqueline Rayner [19]
‘That assumes I’m going to be damaging it,’ said the Doctor. ‘And I haven’t the slightest intention of harming this – aha! This charming statue – of Mercury, messenger of the gods, if his winged hat is anything to go by.’
He rewrapped the sculpture, patted it on its draped head and hopped off the back of the cart, just as the carter was heaving himself on to it.
‘Now, don’t let me hold you up any further,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m sure you’re a very busy man – course you are, statues don’t deliver themselves, do they?’ He waved a gracious hand in the direction of the road, and the carter smiled, despite himself.
But as the Doctor walked back towards the estate, he wasn’t smiling. He’d recognised the statue. Yes, it was Mercury – but it was modelled on a living man, and that man was the slave Tiro.
But there was no way Ursus could have completed the statue of Tiro already. No way on earth.
The most terrible thought struck the Doctor. A thought that explained why Ursus was able to complete statues so quickly. Why they were so lifelike. Why his tools were unused and his workshop unsullied by marble dust.
The Doctor began to run.
* * *
Ursus walked back to frozen Rose. With the gloved tips of one hand, he grasped the gloved tips of the other. He pulled. Slowly, teasingly, the glove came off and he let it flop to the floor – a gross, terrifying striptease. Then he took the ends of the remaining glove in his teeth and pulled that off too.
‘All my life, all I have wanted to do was to create beauty. But the gods cursed me with these…’
He held up his huge, stubby‐fingered hands. They were white, flabby, not the calloused tools of a craftsman.
‘I was taunted and teased for years, but I did not give up. I made vows to my goddess, promising sacrifices if she gave me what I desired. And then, one day – she did. I told her what I wished for most – the ability to make beauty in stone. And she granted me my desire.’
Slowly, oh so slowly, he moved closer to Rose, hands raised..
‘I have fame now, renown. I am pitied no longer. My mother holds her head up high and talks with pride about “my son”. I have money, money to buy all I want, money to revenge myself on those who once mocked me. But most of all… I have beauty. I can create beauty.’
He reached out a hand to Rose, as if he was going to stroke her cheek.
She had a memory: a man lying in a hospital bed. Petrifold regression, the Doctor had called that. Had she caught petrifold regression? Had Ursus given it to her? What was happening to her?
The last thing she saw was the horn of plenty, still lying unheeded and unwanted in the corner of the room.
* * *
The Doctor skidded to a halt in front of the stables. There was another cart there, an empty one this time, standing ready to receive its load. He was just contemplating the locked door when he heard a sound from the other side of it – grunting, groaning, the squeak of wheels. The door swung open and there was Ursus, pulling a wheeled pallet with a marble figure on it. The statue was lying horizontal and the Doctor couldn’t see what it was, but he had a pretty good idea.
He launched himself on the sculptor. ‘What have you done to Rose?’
Ursus was as strong as his bear namesake, but the Doctor’s anger made him a match for any man. They grappled, falling to the floor and rolling over and over. As the Doctor lay on the ground, he spotted Vanessa creeping up towards them, a bronze lamp in her hands. She raised it above her head…
‘That’s it, Vanessa!’ shouted the Doctor as he twisted round, gaining the upper hand again…
And everything went black.
* * *
The Doctor rubbed his sore head and sat up. He sneezed – a piece of hay was sticking up his nose. A donkey looked at him curiously. He was in a stable. Someone must have dragged him here. He looked around.
Crouched beside a pillar, trembling slightly, he could see Vanessa staring at him. She shrank away as he climbed to his feet.
‘I… I’m sorry,’ she squeaked, more mouse‐like than ever.