Doctor Who_ War Games - Malcolm Hulke [14]
Drusus Gracchus of Rome pulled on his horses’ reins, blinked and looked again. He called to his friend, Brutus Sullas, in the other chariot.
‘The square elephant has vanished, Brutus,’ he said, speaking Latin and trying to make sense of the ambulance’s sudden and complete disappearance. ‘It is an omen.’
‘It was some Gaulish trick,’ said Brutus, who tried to think scientifically.
‘Such talk is dangerous,’ said Drusus, who did not want his friend to get into trouble. ‘It was an omen, a message from the God of War. We must make sacrifices to appease Mars.’
‘If you insist,’ said Brutus.
Drusus was glad his friend had seen reason. He turned his chariot round to head back to the fort. Tonight he would sacrifice three goats, two pigs and a human slave to make the God of War happy.
4
Back to the Château
A distant rumble of heavy gunfire filled the air, yet where the ambulance stood all was peaceful. Shell craters pitted the land, but they were mainly waterlogged and the shells had fallen some time ago. There was no sign of life except for the five wanderers who were now studying the maps.
‘Are these the only maps you are given?’ the Doctor asked.
‘Yes,’ said Carstairs. ‘These are the regular issue.’
‘I don’t think they’re much help. What we need is a map that shows all the time zones.’
‘Time zones?’ said Lady Jennifer.
‘We went through that mist,’ the Doctor said patiently,
‘then we saw Romans. Don’t you see, we went back two thousand years.’
‘Of course,’ Zoe exclaimed. ‘We were following this road’—she pointed to the map—’and as soon as we went off the edge of the paper we were into another time.’
‘People can’t move through time,’ Lady Jennifer protested. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘No more ridiculous than me being in a prison cell with a stupid Sassenach from 1745!’ Jamie said.
‘Well,’ said the Doctor, ‘let’s not argue among ourselves. What we need is a bigger and better map. I think I know where we can get one.’
‘Where?’ asked Carstairs.
‘From General Smythe. We must return to the château.’
‘After all that’s happened?’ said Lady Jennifer. ‘How can we go back there?’
‘Quite simple,’ the Doctor answered. ‘You’re going to take us.’
Captain Ransom trimmed the wick of the oil lamp over his desk. It puzzled him how the ambulance had vanished without trace. After the general gave his order, a Sopwith Camel pilot had spotted the ambulance travelling through a valley. Fortunately, the plane was equipped with one of the new-fangled wirelesses; using Morse Code the pilot had told the heavy artillery gunner where to aim. Over two hundred shells were fired, enough to destroy an entire village. Yet when a ground patrol went to search for the wreck-age of the vehicle, not a trace of the ambulance and its occupants was found.
Satisfied that the wick was now giving the best light possible, Ransom hung up the oil lamp and went back to his book. Before finding his place he glanced up at the chandeliers, trying to imagine what the château’s main living room had been like when it was ablaze with light and in its former glory. Peace, he thought, must have been wonderful. The pity was, he could not remember what he had been doing before 1914, nor where he had been.
A motor vehicle pulled up outside. Quickly he put the book away. General Smythe had already caught him reading a book once; that was no way to get promotion. He brought out a work file on the supply and distribution of latrine buckets, spread papers all over his desk, and tried to give the impression of a man engrossed with his job. To his surprise, though, it was not the general who entered. It was the Doctor and Jamie, followed by Lieutenant Carstairs holding his gun on them.
‘Reporting back, sir,’ said the lieutenant. ‘Returning the prisoners.’ He barked at the Doctor, ‘Keep still. One move from you and I fire.’
Ransom half rose in amazement. ‘Carstairs,