Read Online Doctor Who: The Myth Makers by Donald Cotton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donald Cotton
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That’s the whole point!’
Paris saw it at once, of course, and didn’t care for it. ‘Well, I just wouldn’t want to stand in his way, that’s all.’
‘Now, don’t argue, Paris – just get out there!’
‘Oh, all right. Goodbye Cressida. All being well, we shall meet this evening.’
‘As soon as that?’
‘Yes, we have to knock off as soon as the light goes, or you can’t see the blood.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, goodbye, Paris – and thank you for standing up for me.’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ said the unhappy prince, ‘only too pleased.’ And with a lack-lustre salute to whoever might be interested, he turned on his heel, and low-profiled back to the war.
‘Now then,’ said Priam, having thus inspired and invigorated his eldest, ‘come along, Cressida – you and I must have a long talk. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to bring us luck.’
‘She will bring us nothing but doom, death and disaster,’
remarked Cassandra, ever the optimist.
‘Yes, yes, Cassandra – you have made your point. And your protest will be entered in the official records, so you’ve nothing to worry about. This way, my dear.’
Vicki hesitated. ‘Are you quite sure? I dont want to upset anybody.’
‘Oh, you mustn’t worry about Cassandra – she always takes the gloomiest possible view of things. It’s a form of insurance, I suppose, so that, if things do go wrong, she can always say – I told you so! I remember once...’
But what he remembered we shall never know, because at that point, he and Vicki disappeared into the palace – and I didn’t think I should presume to follow them, on such a short acquaintance.
I was wondering what to do next, when Cassandra made up my mind for me. ‘Hear me, you gods of Troy!’ – and why she should have thought they were deaf I don’t know – ‘Strike with thy lightnings the fledgling upstart who seeks to usurp Cassandra, your true priestess! Or give me a sign, I pray you, that she is false – then will I strike the blow myself!’
Well she certainly looked capable of it, as she stalked back into the temple, slashing about her with a snake-skin whip, or some such; and for Vicki’s sake, I hoped no sort of sign, as requested, was in the offing. But it didn’t seem as if there’d be a lot I could do about it, even if there were. And, quite frankly, having had enough of Cassandra for one action-packed morning, I thought my best plan would be to stroll gently back to the Greek camp, and see how the Doctor was getting along with his war-plans.
Who knows – I might even be able to scrounge a bite of breakfast...
13
War Games Compulsory
I did, in fact, arrange to get a couple of rather bristly wild boar chops at the Greek commissariat, in exchange for a tune or two on my lyre – did I ever mention that I used to play a bit? And thus fortified, set out to find Odysseus’ quarters – not easy in that ill-planned, haphazard straggle of a cantonment! – where I assumed he would have taken his prisoners. But being so obviously Greek myself, I was able to mingle at will amongst the lower ranks without exciting much curiosity; and eventually a hoplite of sorts suggested that I try down by the shore –
apparently Odysseus kept himself apart from the other heroes whenever possible – and he pointed out where the Ithacan flotilla was drawn up on the sand, looking like so many stranded sea-monsters.
‘You can usually find him there,’ said my informant, ‘when he isn’t busy insulting his allies, or putting the fear of god into the rest of us with his crack-brained schemes.’
So I trudged seawards, and wandered moodily along the beach, aiming the occasional kick at a dead dog-fish, and wondering if I wouldn’t be better employed getting the hell out of Asia Minor, and heading for the Hesperides, where I had a tentative concert engagement. In fact, I generally used to try and spend midsummer there when I could: cooler, you know, and very much
Paris saw it at once, of course, and didn’t care for it. ‘Well, I just wouldn’t want to stand in his way, that’s all.’
‘Now, don’t argue, Paris – just get out there!’
‘Oh, all right. Goodbye Cressida. All being well, we shall meet this evening.’
‘As soon as that?’
‘Yes, we have to knock off as soon as the light goes, or you can’t see the blood.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, goodbye, Paris – and thank you for standing up for me.’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ said the unhappy prince, ‘only too pleased.’ And with a lack-lustre salute to whoever might be interested, he turned on his heel, and low-profiled back to the war.
‘Now then,’ said Priam, having thus inspired and invigorated his eldest, ‘come along, Cressida – you and I must have a long talk. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to bring us luck.’
‘She will bring us nothing but doom, death and disaster,’
remarked Cassandra, ever the optimist.
‘Yes, yes, Cassandra – you have made your point. And your protest will be entered in the official records, so you’ve nothing to worry about. This way, my dear.’
Vicki hesitated. ‘Are you quite sure? I dont want to upset anybody.’
‘Oh, you mustn’t worry about Cassandra – she always takes the gloomiest possible view of things. It’s a form of insurance, I suppose, so that, if things do go wrong, she can always say – I told you so! I remember once...’
But what he remembered we shall never know, because at that point, he and Vicki disappeared into the palace – and I didn’t think I should presume to follow them, on such a short acquaintance.
I was wondering what to do next, when Cassandra made up my mind for me. ‘Hear me, you gods of Troy!’ – and why she should have thought they were deaf I don’t know – ‘Strike with thy lightnings the fledgling upstart who seeks to usurp Cassandra, your true priestess! Or give me a sign, I pray you, that she is false – then will I strike the blow myself!’
Well she certainly looked capable of it, as she stalked back into the temple, slashing about her with a snake-skin whip, or some such; and for Vicki’s sake, I hoped no sort of sign, as requested, was in the offing. But it didn’t seem as if there’d be a lot I could do about it, even if there were. And, quite frankly, having had enough of Cassandra for one action-packed morning, I thought my best plan would be to stroll gently back to the Greek camp, and see how the Doctor was getting along with his war-plans.
Who knows – I might even be able to scrounge a bite of breakfast...
13
War Games Compulsory
I did, in fact, arrange to get a couple of rather bristly wild boar chops at the Greek commissariat, in exchange for a tune or two on my lyre – did I ever mention that I used to play a bit? And thus fortified, set out to find Odysseus’ quarters – not easy in that ill-planned, haphazard straggle of a cantonment! – where I assumed he would have taken his prisoners. But being so obviously Greek myself, I was able to mingle at will amongst the lower ranks without exciting much curiosity; and eventually a hoplite of sorts suggested that I try down by the shore –
apparently Odysseus kept himself apart from the other heroes whenever possible – and he pointed out where the Ithacan flotilla was drawn up on the sand, looking like so many stranded sea-monsters.
‘You can usually find him there,’ said my informant, ‘when he isn’t busy insulting his allies, or putting the fear of god into the rest of us with his crack-brained schemes.’
So I trudged seawards, and wandered moodily along the beach, aiming the occasional kick at a dead dog-fish, and wondering if I wouldn’t be better employed getting the hell out of Asia Minor, and heading for the Hesperides, where I had a tentative concert engagement. In fact, I generally used to try and spend midsummer there when I could: cooler, you know, and very much
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