Doctor Who and the Crusaders

by David Whitaker

  ‘I admire bravery, sir,’ murmured the Doctor mildly, ‘and bravery and courage are clearly in you in full measure. Unfortunately, you have no brains at all. I despise fools.’

  Leicester pulled his sword free and advanced on the Doctor.

  ‘A fool can match a coward any day!’

  Richard stepped across and smashed his clenched fist down on Leicester’s sword arm, numbing the muscles so that the fingers lost their strength and the weapon clattered to the stone floor.

  ‘Do you dare flourish arms before your King?’ He spat out, his body tense with anger. Leicester realized he had gone too far, muttered some words of apology and rubbed his arm.

  ‘We have decided on this marriage pact with Saladin,’ continued the King, in a clipped, formal voice. ‘If it fails, my Lord of Leicester, then, and only then, shall we have a trial of arms. You have my permission to withdraw.’

  Leicester gave a short, curt bow and, brushing the Doctor to one side deliberately, strode towards the door.

  ‘And, Leicester,’ murmured the King after him, ‘my sister knows nothing of this. Remember that.’

  As soon as they were alone, Richard gave a sigh and sat in a chair moodily.

  ‘Do you think he will accept the idea?’

  ‘He has no alternative, Sire,’ replied the Doctor. ‘It will rest easier with him if the plan succeeds, of course.’

  ‘And it must succeed! Saphadin desires it, and Joanna will do as I tell her. All rests with this strange enemy of mine, this Saladin, this mixture of friend and foe. I long to hear his decision.’ He smiled slightly at the Doctor, running a hand through his red hair. ‘I can embrace him as a brother, or meet him on the field as a dangerous rival. Neither of these I fear. But, oh, how I detest the weary business of waiting.’

  The two brothers who opposed Richard were considering the proposition at that very moment in Ramtah. Saladin sat on his favourite couch, reading the parchment which contained the offer of the marriage, while Saphadin, who had already read it, stood beside him. Saladin laid the document beside him at last, smiling slightly.

  ‘A very entertaining proposition, brother.’

  ‘Why do you smile? Is it a trap?’

  ‘No, the English Malec Ric writes sincerely.’ Saladin suddenly laughed quietly. ‘It is so guileless, it can only be genuine.’

  ‘Think seriously about it,’ insisted Saphadin. ‘Alliance with Joanna would give me title to much land, power over far-off countries... a glittering empire...’

  ‘I did not know,’ interrupted Saladin gently, ‘that you were so ambitious.’ Saphadin shifted his shoulders uneasily.

  ‘I would be the name... yours would be the voice.’

  ‘Ah!’

  Saladin glanced at his brother quizzically for a second or two. ‘Do not look so troubled. See, I will humour you and let this proposition go ahead.’ Before his brother could open his mouth to thank him, Saladin tapped one finger into the palm of his other hand, dropping his voice so that his words were attended to carefully. ‘But listen to me well. I see this marriage plan as no more than the end of an uneasy peace. Malec Ric is, as I say, sincere. But his mind is like the shifting sands. If it goes ahead, I will support it, to the hilt. But, brother, I beg of you not to rely on it coming to this favourable end.’

  ‘Then you do think that Malec Ric is trying to make fools of as, or trick us?’

  ‘I think this. That war is a mixture of many things. How long the march, how short the battle. Strategy is worth a hundred lances. Think, brother. How does this offer help us?’

  Saphadin sat down opposite his brother, giving him all his attention. Saladin spoke with considerable logic.

  ‘Have England, France and all the rest come here to cheer a love match? So many men-at-arms, ships, horses; with all the armaments of war? I say this is a gesture of peace from a weary man. But weary men can rest and rise invigorated... so you reply softly to the letter while I call sharply to our forces. Dress yourself in finery; I’ll see our men buckle on their swords. Practise your love words; I’ll have our armies rehearse their war cries. Then on the day of wedding or the day of war we’ll be prepared.’

  What Richard would have thought if he could have overheard this conversation is more than any man can say. He might have admired the caution, while he welcomed the chance of success. But in any case in a few short hours the whole grand plan for peace was shredded into pieces and blown away. For there was one factor the King had over-looked.

  Joanna.

  Richard had been practising sword play with one of his friends, Hugh of Corillion, in small enclosed sun-trap within the Palace. The exercise pleased Richard and when it was over he stripped off his dusty clothes, damp with the sweat of his exertions, and suffered his servants to throw sea-water over him while he rubbed at the muscles of his arms, legs and shoulders until they tingled. Totally refreshed, and very much at peace with the world, he put on a loose robe that reached down to his ankles and strolled back to his reading-room, intending to devote the rest of the day to the tiresome dispatches from England and the problem of his brother John, ruling there in his place during his absence, and obviously plotting against him.

  The council chamber through which he had to pass contained three people, but it was at Joanna he stared; the presence of the Doctor and the Earl of Leicester only just registering. The girl turned her head slowly as he entered and there was a hard, fierce intensity deep inside the centre of her eyes, which made them burn like tiny embers in an open fire. The skin of her face was parchment white, except for two spots of red high up on her cheek-bones. There was a flat, heavy feeling about the room and it took no great brain-work on the King’s part to recognize trouble. His feet slowed to a stop and for the first time he glanced at the two men. Leicester looked uncomfortable but strangely triumphant, while the Doctor’s face was grave and troubled.

  ‘What’s this I hear, Richard?’ the girl said, her voice crackling with suppressed emotion. ‘Marriage with that heathenish man! That infidel!’

  Richard’s heart sank. ‘Joanna, there are many good reasons...’

  ‘And when, pray, was I to hear the reasons? Afterwards? Is this what you do – throw off your sister and then explain?’

  ‘It is expedient...’

  ‘This unconsulted partner has no wish to marry! I am no sack of flour to be given in exchange. I am no paragraph in a peace treaty!’

  ‘The decision has been made...’

  ‘Not by me, and never would be. Never shall be!’ Joanna took three or four little steps towards him, the whole of her body expressing her agitation and fury. ‘How dare you do this, Richard!’

  He held up his hands placatingly. ‘Sister, I beg of you, consider. The war is full of weary, wounded men. This marriage wants a little thought from you, that’s all and then you’ll see the right of it.’

  ‘And how would you have me go to Saphadin?’ she cried furiously. ‘This handsome hero you’ve selected; this peerless knight; this gentleman? Bathed in oriental perfume, I suppose. Suppliant, tender and affectionate; soft-eyed and trembling with adoration! Eager with a thousand words of compliment and love!’

  She shook her head so violently, her hair became disarrayed, some of it falling down the side of her face and spreading out over her bodice.

  ‘But I like a different way, Richard – to meet the man I am to wed; to talk to him, learn about his ways, his moods and temperament; and show him mine.’

  ‘If it’s a meeting you want...’

  ‘I do not want,’ she flamed, determined not to allow him to get his words out. ‘I will not have it!’

  ‘I urge you to accept, Joanna.’

  ‘No!’

  Richard sighed and tried another approach. ‘Very well, I entreat you.’

  ‘No!’

  Richard took her by the arm, a new note of authority entering his voice.

  ‘I am the King. I command you.’

  She pulled herself away. ‘You cannot command this
of me. There is a higher authority than yours to which I answer.’

  ‘Where is there any man who has more power over his subjects?’ he said aggressively. ‘I am the King.’

  Joann said, ‘Look to Rome.’

  Richard stared at her, the awful realization of what she implied seeping through him.

  ‘You would defy me and seek protection of the Pope?’ he whispered.

  ‘You defy the world,’ she retorted, ‘the world we know, at least. The very reason you are here in Palestine is the reason on my side. Are you not here to recapture the Holy City; fight the heathen invaders? If you marry me to one of them, Richard, you make a pact with the Devil. No, I’ll never do it, never! Force me to it, and I’ll turn the whole world into your enemy. Yours will be a hated shadow, even to your family and friends. I swear that I will demand of His Holiness that he bring down upon you the brand of excommunication!’

  Her brother stared at her, his mouth dropping open in astonishment.

  ‘You... you would not dare, Joanna.’

  ‘Beware, Richard. You have met your match this day.’ Joanna swept out of the room, leaving the startled, mortified King and his two silent companions to their thoughts. Richard sat down slowly in a chair, passing a hand over his forehead, a dozen ideas chasing each other and his brain. Then suddenly a pure and blinding anger drove everything from his mind. His whole scheme lay in ruins and his personal pride had taken a knock in the bargain, for he knew quite certainly that he could never force the issue with his sister. He fixed his gaze malevolently on the Doctor.

  ‘This ill-timed news,’ he growled, ‘I could have brought it to her slowly. Who gave away my plan?’

  The Doctor took an anxious step forward.

  ‘Your Majesty, you must believe...’

  ‘Go!’ the King screamed, as that the room echoed with the noise of his voice. ‘Get out of my sight. You are not welcome here!’

  The Doctor bowed coldly and walked out of the room, conscious of the smiling face of his adversary, the Earl of Leicester. He was desperately aware that what had been a peaceful haven, a most reliable refuge for him and Vicki, while Ian went in search of Barbara, had now become a place full of menace, where at any moment hands might descend and drag the pair of them away and thrust them into some dark dungeon from which they might never merge.

  He hurried to Vicki’s bedroom, where he found her admiring one of the dresses Ben Daheer had had made for her, holding it up against herself and walking about the room. She ran to him immediately, holding it out for his approval, then fell silent as she saw his face.

  ‘Vicki, my child,’ he said rapidly, ‘we are in the utmost danger. We most leave Jaffa at once. Take what things you need, put on a dark cloak and follow me.’

  ‘Why, Doctor? What’s happened?’

  ‘That infernal meddler, the Earl of Leicester, told the Princess about King Richard’s plans to marry her to Saladin’s brother. The King thinks I have given him away. Come along now. We haven’t any time to waste.’

  Vicki obediently put down the dress, clipped on a cloak which covered her page’s outfit almost completely and ran after the Doctor. The two of them made their way hurriedly through the Palace, taking the least-used corridors, and passing rooms with open doorways as unobtrusively as they could.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked him breathlessly as they walked out of the Palace, past the guards and into the town of Jaffa itself. Then he stood with her in a doorway. ‘Back to the wood, my dear,’ he said grimly. ‘Back to the Tardis . We’ll be safe there, and Chesterton is a man with his wits about him. He’ll realize that’s where we are and follow us with Barbara.’

  He turned and looked back at Richard’s palace. He watched as a servant can out and spoke to one of the guards outside, asking him some question or other. The guard nodded and pointed to the direction he and Vicki had taken. The servant then began to run back into the Palace, as fast as his legs would carry him. The Doctor stepped swiftly out of the doorway, urging Vicki round a corner, into a side street.

  ‘That servant was asking if we’d left the Palace, wasn’t he?’ the girl said, half running to keep up with the Doctor’s long strides.

  ‘Yes, my dear, I’m afraid you’re probably right. But we’ll be safe in the Tardis , I promise you. If we ever get there,’ he added under his breath.

  Chapter Six

  The Triumph Of El Akir

  Haroun ed Diin had overheard the news that El Akir was returning to Lydda, and now he crouched on top of a half-ruined building of that town, alerted at the sight of the two horses galloping fast down the hillside. He eased his cramped muscles, for he had been waiting for nearly four hours, since he had learned the news about his hated enemy’s expected arrival, wanting every part of him to respond to action when his brain commanded. The two horses swept out of sight for a moment behind a grove of trees, and the waiting man picked up the bow and arrow which lay on the flat roof beside him, wondering who the other rider with El Akir was, how it concerned his plans. He looked now at the entrance gates to the Emir’s Palace. Guards were already running (he could see quite clearly over the white walls which enclosed the Palace grounds) and in a moment the great doors were swung open. Haroun noted the guards. Two now taking up positions outside, three more within, while a Captain superintended - six altogether. He wondered whether it was going to be possible to shoot his arrow at El Akir and make his retreat, and ran over his escape route once again in his mind.

  The roof of the house upon which he lay, hiding behind a three-foot parapet which ran all the way around its four sides, adjoined, behind him, to another. He planned to cross the rooftops, swing down on a knotted rope he had secured firmly to the adjoining house, run across a small alley-way and lose himself in the tangle of houses and shops on the other side. It was getting across that alley that was going to be the most dangerous.

  Haroun picked up the bow and fitted the shaft to it carefully. The only reason to be alive, after he had killed El Akir, was his youngest daughter Safiya. If they caught him... well, they would catch him and kill him and that would be the end, and Safiya would have to fend for herself. There was no question of his putting off his plan. He’d already had to wait for nearly a year.

  The two horses came into view again and the man on the roof picked out the details of El Akie’s travelling companion: the costume, the way she dung to desperately to the horse and the ropes binding her hands. So El Akir had found himself another victim, thought Haroun. Again the two horses disappeared as they entered the outskirts of Lydda and houses intervened, and now me the most difficult part. Haroun dared not show himself above the parapet in case one of the guards spotted him and gave the alarm. He had to trust to his ears to tell him when the horse brought El Akir near enough for him to be a certain target. He lay down patiently, tensing his legs slightly.

  The sound of the horses’ hooves came nearer, riding fast up the street. Haroun edged his head upwards and risked a look over the parapet. He had judged the time absolutely, except that El Akir had now drawn his prisoner’s hone parallel with his, so that the girl’s body was accidentally interposed. Haroun decided he must take every possible chance and sat up, clearly in view to anyone who cared to look upwards, but the guards were busy concentrating on the Emir’s arrival, bunching now in the gates.

  El Akir jumped off his horse and Haroun raised the bow, but again, as if Fate were determined to interfere, one of the guards moved and made the target impossible. Haroun ground his teeth in anger and then forgot his own vendetta for the moment. El Akir had hold of a rope tied to his prisoner’s wrists and he deliberately wrenched on it, as that the girl was pulled off her mount and sent crashing to the hard, sunbaked earth. The guards laughed as the girl shook her head wearily and, although obviously dazed by the fall, tried to pick herself up. She was almost on her feet when she staggered and fell again, lying still this time, a pathetic, crumpled heap on the ground. Haroun felt a rush of pity for the unfortunate girl – then rem
embered his reason for being where hew and watched furiously as El Akir walked through the big gates and disappeared out of sight, flanked by three of his guards and the Captain. Before he went, he ordered the remaining two soldiers to bring the girl.

  Haroun let go of the bow and arrow in disgust and was just about to retrace his steps to safety when he noticed the girl make a tiny movement with her head and realized that she was only shamming unconsciousness. The two guards were obviously making some joke about her, probably to do with the treatment she could expect from their master. He watched as the two men strolled over to the girl, one moving towards her feet, the other bending down to take hold of her bound wrists. Suddenly, with a speed and an agility which almost took Haroun’s breath away, the girl kicked out with her feet into the face of the guard behind her and simultaneously dug her fingers into the other guard’s face. Both men fell and in an instant she was on her feet, running for all she was worth.

  In a second, Haroun bent double and ran across the roof, leaving the bow and arrow where they were for another time. He crossed to the other house to where he had fixed his rope and was just in time to see the girl running down the little alley-way with the two soldiers in hot pursuit.

  He stood, crouched beside his rope now, wondering if the men would notice it, urging the girl silently on as she rushed towards the very passage-way he had marked down for his own flight, her tightly-bound hands held out in front and her hair flowing behind her. She had long since lost her yashmak and Haroun could see the cruel gag which stretched her mouth open. He saw the loose stone ahead of her and almost shouted to warn her, but in a second her foot had caught on it and she fell badly, knocking all the breath out of her body as her shoulder struck the ground. The two guards, who had seen their quarry almost disappear into the safety of the maze of houses, their brains shuddering at what their master would do to them, gave a shout of joy and ran towards her.