Doctor Who_ Wolfsbane - Jac Rayner [23]
The Doctor was still very keen to find out exactly how Godric had got from the one - well, let‟s say time, to avoid confusion - how he had got from the one time to the other.
But he seemed sensitive to Godric‟s plight, didn‟t bully him or try to force him to remember things that were buried deep in his mind. He tried to approach it from the other direction: what did Godric remember since he „woke up‟? Where had he come from?
In the woods, Godric said. He‟d felt like he was coming out of a deep sleep, and before he knew it he was walking through the woods. That‟s what he was doing when he awoke: he was already walking. And there were snatches of dreams: dreams of a woman in green, of great anger.
Was there in Godric‟s time an evil sorceress? the Doctor asked. Morgan le Fey, or Morgana, or Morgaine? Had Godric offended the sorceress of legend somehow, and been magically punished? Harry had to think for a moment - his knowledge of Arthurian legends more or less stopped at the Knights of the Round Table and Merlin the magician, and again, surely they had all been made up by storytellers in medieval times, or later even? One or all of those woman was Arthur‟s sister, he thought, who had been involved in some pretty dodgy business and borne him a son, who had killed Arthur in the end. Something like that. He also had vague memories from a Disney film that she could change into a pink dragon, but that might have been someone else.
But Godric, apparently from the past, didn‟t think they were legends or stories. He creased his brow for a moment, as if the Doctor had come close to a memory, but eventually shook his head.
Then they would go back to the wood. Retrace Godric‟s steps. See where he had awoken. See if that gave them any clues.
There were voices outside her room - her cell. Not right outside, probably some way away; her hearing was as good as her vision. Her English was excellent, but in rage and fear she had found herself reverting to her native tongue, and sentences were harder to follow than once they had been.
But she heard passes‟ and „government‟ and minister‟, and a bit later her name. Eventually the voices faded away, and she went back to watching the snow.
„You should be bowing,‟ said the lunatic. „You should be grovelling on the floor in front of me. I am the king of England, after all, don‟tcha know?‟
Should she go along with this? Was that the best way to get information, to humour this poor deluded creature? Perhaps so.
She bowed low. „I crave your pardon, your majesty. Your, er, guard led me to believe you were here incognito.‟
He waved a hand. „This time, I forgive you. Next time, I may have your head cut off and put on a spike.‟
Abasement did not come naturally to Sarah. She bit her tongue.
„Yes, jolly old king of England, that‟s me. Could stick your head right on -‟ he made a rather disturbing gesture - „a spike.‟
This seemed to be getting them nowhere. Sarah decided to put a touch of truth into the mix. „I‟m a journalist, your majesty. The people are eager to know the circumstances that led up to you ascending the throne. I would deem it a great honour if you would share some of that information with me...‟
He raised an eyebrow, considering it. „My ascension had to be kept a secret, of course. But perhaps the time has come for the story to be told. My mother would have wanted it.‟
„It would be a fitting tribute to Lady Hester...‟ Sarah prompted.
The lunatic shrieked. „How dare you! Now her true identity is known, do not speak of her earthly guise! I‟ll have your head on a spike!‟
What an unhealthy obsession he had with spikes. It was only the thought of Harry, lost and alone, that kept Sarah from fleeing - no, storming out.
„I‟m going to have them burned down,‟ the man said.
Spikes? Heads? „Burn what down, your majesty?‟ she asked.
„The trees. I‟m going to have them all burned down. They attacked me, you know. They didn‟t realise who I was - it had been kept even from me at that time, although my mother