Menagerie - Martin Day [21]
Drizzle fell onto his upturned face through the doorway as he watched the knights leave.
Jamie felt a perplexing contentment as he stood in a doorway watching the headquarters of the guards. Although he knew that his prospects of ever going home again rested entirely with the Doctor, for once the expectation of trying to liberate his friends did not fill him with fear. There were no monsters, no guns, no baffling invisible doors. Just people he understood and buildings made of stone and windows with metal bars.
It was like real life, and even his flight from the guards had brought back memories of Redcoats. The soldier had fallen for a ruse so simple that even an Englishman would have seen through it. 'Look over there!' Jamie had exclaimed, pointing, as the guard came towards him with manacles — and the old man fell for it! They were very primitive people.
Jamie had followed the cortege of soldiers and criminals to the dark building at the centre of town. He had walked around the building twice, ascertaining that there were two main doors and a number of smaller hatches down into the cells. The squat building covered a surprising area, and there was no way that he could observe all the entrances. He settled down into the bricked-up doorway of a facing tenement to observe what seemed to be the main entrance, brushing some dirt from his kilt. As he did so he caught a flash of motion further down the broad cobbled street. The movements were furtive, as befitted one moving after the curfew, but Jamie's keen eyes could track the figure as it moved from shadow to shadow.
It seemed to be a young lad whose eyes were so locked on to the guards' building that he failed to notice Jamie mere yards away. After a pause the boy ran across the street and skidded to a halt in a large puddle just beneath one of the barred windows. Jamie watched the boy looking about him nervously. Seeing no one, he craned his head into the window. Immediately the lad ducked down. Someone was there.
Jamie decided that the one thing that he needed now was a friend. It was time to give the boy a hand, whoever he was. Jamie only hoped he'd be appreciated.
Jamie stood up and coughed loudly. The boy immediately sank back into the shadows. Jamie could see the spreading stain of water creep up the boy's legs. Pretending not to have seen him, Jamie walked casually across the street, for all the world a gentleman out on a brisk midnight stroll. He whistled tunelessly to fortify his confidence.
There seemed to be a single candle burning inside the main door. The archway was of strong grey stone, and gave way to a number of shallow steps leading downwards. The roof was so low that Jamie had to crouch slightly in order to get in.
The small room at the bottom of the stairs was bare and smelt of stale alcohol. A desk of wood and slate sat in the centre of the room, one leg, a good three inches shorter than the others, supported by an empty scabbard. A man sat slumped at the desk, his arms extending over the length of the table, his face on the cold surface, snoring loudly.
'I've just come from an illegal drinking house,' said Jamie loudly, remembering the words of the knight when they were arrested. The man barely stirred. 'I said, I've just come from an illegal drinking house.' He shook the man by the shoulder. 'So I think you'd better come and arrest me.'
The man snorted and grabbed for a nonexistent weapon.
'You . . . It's after curfew . . . You shouldn't . . He got to his feet, swaying slightly, big balls of fist rubbing his rheumy eyes. An empty bottle rolled across the desk and on to the floor. It bounced and then split in two at Jamie's feet. 'What are you doing here?' the man finally exclaimed.
'Looking for a friend,' said Jamie, edging towards the door. 'I think I'll come back later.' With that, he ran back up the steps and on to the street.
The man roared and came after him, sword in hand.
As they ran down the street Jamie risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw that the