‘A motley collection, Ian, my friend,’ he said, gazing about the room.
‘What can be done for the girls from the harem?’ ‘Fortunately, I am a rich man. My wealth lies with friends in Damascus, held for me until I made my settlement with El Akir. Oh, I shall not set up a harem of my own,’ he went on, giving Ian a sudden smile. ‘I shall become their patron and either see them married well or return them to their own homes and families.’
‘I have one favour to ask you,’ said Ian. He pointed across at Ibrahim. Haroun nodded.
‘I know the man. He is a disgraceful thief and a scoundrel but I will see he is well rewarded for helping as. I cannot tempt you into coming to Damascus, you and your lady Barbara? I have a thriving business of which you could become a part.’ He looked down at his hands, ‘There would be no son to rival you.’
There was a pause, for Ian felt he couldn’t turn down the man’s generous offer too rapidly. He let the silence pretend he was considering the matter.
‘I can’t see how we could do that,’ he said at last, ‘much we’d want to. I have two other friends to look after. Your search is over, Haroun, but mine still has some way to go.’
‘What will you do?’
‘Give Barbara all the rest she needs and then ride for Jaffa. There’s a little wood outside the town we shall visit first, in case my friends are there waiting for us.’
In the morning, Barbara found her sleep had completely refreshed her, and the salve Maimuna had spread on her back had done so much to ease the pain she found she could move quite well, suffering no more than a dull ache.
The parting was a sad one, Maimuna and Safiya begging them to change their minds. Surprisingly, Ibrahim was genuinely distressed at having to say good-bye to Ian, and not even the promise of a handsome reward from Haroun seemed to console him. The harem girls had come to regard Ian as the symbol of their release, a lucky charm without which they would all fall into evil hands again. But finally the tears and kisses came to an end and Haroun led them all away, deep into the heart of the forest, while Ian and Barbara sat on their horses watching until the last glimpse faded and the trees swallowed them up. The calls of good-bye and the accompanying clop of the horses’ hooves became fainter and fainter and were gradually replaced by the silence of the forest.
Barbara looked across at Ian, stretched out a hand and held his. A dozen unsaid words hung between them in the understanding of that moment. Modern people though they were, they had stepped into a world of chivalry and barbarism and Ian had not failed her. She had needed him and he had come for her. She knew, whatever the age, whatever the place, whatever the circumstances, he would measure up to her every expectation.
She leant across from her horse, put her arm around his neck and kissed him softly on the lips. She sat back again, her heart beating a little faster, a slight tinge of pink at her cheeks, holding his eyes with hers.
Then they rode towards Jaffa.
The Doctor lay quietly beneath the tangle of broken branches, his hand just touching Vicki’s. Ahead of him, about twenty yards away, a soldier was leaning against a tree, polishing his sword with a rough cloth.
The voices of other men intruded on the peace of the little wood, the rattle of armaments and the occasional snort of a horse – sounds indicating the presence of a body of men. Beyond the solitary soldier who was working so industriously was the tall ring of bushes hiding the Tardis . Twenty yards from safety. It was worse than twenty miles, thought the Doctor gloomily.
He and Vicki had had such good luck, too, in their flight from Jaffa. They had dodged and manoeuvred through the town, just keeping out of reach of the Earl of Leicester’s men. And then the Doctor had remembered the shop-keeper, Ben Daheer. Slipping through the patrols, he had guided Vicki to the shop, told its owner that he and his ward wished to travel incognito and persuaded Ben Daheer to give them complete changes of clothes and some provisions for the journey. Receiving their expensive clothes in exchange for some clean but very well-worn monks’ habits and a little food made a good bargain and he even went so far as to show them a private route out of Jaffa, wishing them every success on their ‘pilgrimage’, for the Doctor had pretended that he had a burning desire to visit Mecca.
They made the journey to the little wood in good time, their spirits soaring, convinced they had eluded their enemies. Just as they reached the cover of the trees, a body of horsemen had galloped into sight with the Earl of Leicester at its head, and before the Doctor and Vicki could run to where the Tardis was hidden, the Earl’s men had set themselves down right in front of it, effectively barring them from reaching it.
They made no attempt to search the wood, although the Doctor knew that would be their next step. He assured Vicki that they didn’t know about the existence of the ship. He had already worked out what had happened. Leicester, convinced that the Doctor was agent working for Saladin, had collected all the information he knew about the Doctor as soon as it was clear that he had slipped through his fingers. The only clue he had was that the Doctor had first made himself known in the wood, and seizing upon that as a last hope had ridden there with some men. The Doctor confirmed his assumption by stealthily climbing a tree and eavesdropping on the Earl talking to some of his soldiers.
‘These two are spies undoubtedly; sent by Saladin to learn our secrets,’ he told them. ‘If I have judged correctly they will come this way again.’
‘They will not pass by,’ growled one of the soldiers, and the Earl nodded approvingly.
‘Well said! For they have had opportunity to study the numbers of our army in Jaffa and make details of our stores and equipment, all vitally important to the Saracens. Spread yourselves about and let your ears be sharp and alert.’
The Doctor had retired, raging inwardly, and he and Vicki had then found the safest spot they could and covered themselves with leaves and broken branches, lying as near the ship as possible in the hope that they might be able to evade Leicester’s men and slam the doors of the Tardis in their faces. Then all they would have to do would be to wait for Ian and Barbara to arrive (for both of them were quite convinced they would, in time) and worry about admitting them when the occasion demanded.
The strong aroma of roasting meat began to drift through the trees, and the soldier put away his sword, reminded of his hunger. He moved forward uncertainly, then strolled in the direction of the cooking. The Doctor’s fingers tapped on the girl’s hand. She crept out from beneath the branches carefully, spread the bushes aside and looked about her. The Doctor whispered to her and she raced across the opening and disappeared through the ring of bushes.
The Doctor nodded to himself and eased his cramped legs slightly. It seemed he had lain like this for hours, enduring the bitter cold of the night, dozing fitfully in the early morning sun. Now the heat of the afternoon poured down, bringing out beads of perspiration on his forehead, and his heavy monk’s habit felt damp and sticky. He crawled out from the camouflage of twigs and leaves and peered about – everything seemed quiet and deserted. He bunched up the front of his robe and started to run across the little clearing. At that moment the soldier wandered into view and with a shout of triumph charged forward and grabbed hold of the Doctor by the scruff of his neck. In a second the clearing was full of soldiers.
The Doctor never panicked in emergencies and stood quietly now, facing his enemies. The Earl of Leicester pushed his way through the ring of grinning soldiers, a look of triumph on his face.
‘I thought you would show yourself, traitor!’
‘I’m no traitor,’ said the Doctor calmly. ‘What do you want with me?’
Leicester scowled at him and put his hands on his hips. ‘First, I want the truth and then I shall rid this world of you.’
‘I will tell you the truth about this man,’ said a quiet voice. Leicester swung around.
Ian walked towards the group. Just visible behind him were two horses, and the Doctor could see Barbara slowly dismounting.
‘
I am Sir Ian, Knight of Jaffa, charged by King Richard to intercede with Saladin on behalf of Sir William des Preaux and a lady who had fallen into Saracen hands.’
‘I remember you,’ said Leicester, ‘for I conducted you to the King on your arrival with a wounded knight. But as I recall the events you were this man’s companion.’
‘That is not true,’ said Ian. ‘We met in this wood and he helped me carry the injured knight, de Tornebu, to Jaffa. But his smiles and willing hands were only a disguise to ingratiate himself. He desired nothing more than to worm his way into the confidence of the King.’
‘I thought so,’ roared Leicester, his face black with fury.
‘I have discovered he is worse than a spy,’ remarked Ian, moving nearer to the Doctor. Every eye was on Ian now, but the Doctor just caught a glimpse of Barbara stepping through the ring of bushes and disappearing out of sight.
‘He is a sorcerer,’ said Ian, dropping his voice.
There was a silence. One or two of the soldiers moved back slightly in superstitious awe, while Leicester’s hand fell on the hilt of his sword.
‘Then let us dispatch him and have done with it.’
‘My Lord of Leicester, I have travelled a long way with but one ambition.’
‘To watch this man’s execution?’
‘No, My Lord. To administer it.’
The Doctor stood silently, making absolutely no contribution to the conversation, his eyes staring steadily into Ian’s.
‘You would deprive me of a pleasure, Sir Ian,’ said Leicester doggedly.
‘But it was he who arranged the ambush on King Richard in this very wood,’ replied Ian. ‘It was he who was responsible for the lady, Barbara, being abducted. The greater debt is to me, My Lord, and it can only be met with his life and my sword.’
Leicester nodded. ‘This villainy knows no bounds. Do it, then, Sir Ian and we will ride back to the King and relate this story.’
Ian moved up to the Doctor. ‘Where will you meet your end?’
The Doctor shrugged.
‘Let it be a matter between the two of us,’ he replied quietly. ‘Behind those bushes.’
Ian nodded and drew his sword. He followed the Doctor to the ring of bushes and followed him through them. As soon as the foliage covered them, the Doctor picked up his robe and ran for the Tardis , where Barbara and Vicki were waiting.
The Doctor produced the ship’s key from a cord round his neck, opened the doors and they hurried inside, Vicki’s excited breath of laughter echoing out as the doors closed behind them.
On the other aide of the bushes the Earl of Leicester stiffened.
‘Did any of you hear another voice?’ he demanded. ‘A voice... that laughed?’
The men looked at each other nervously. Leicester drew out his sword and forced his way through the bushes, his men crowding in behind him. They stopped in alarm as they stared at the extraordinary spectacle of the telephone box. A light began to flash on the top of it, and with one accord they fell to their knees.
Then the box faded and disappeared in front of their eyes and in a second there was no evidence that it had been there at all.
‘Witchcraft!’ muttered Leicester hoarsely. ‘Poor Sir Ian! Brave fellow. Spirited away by fiends and black arts.’
He stood up then looked commandingly at the trembling men around him.
‘We will not speak of this. Let this story die here in this wood or we’ll be branded idiots – or liars.’
The men scrambled to their feet and crashed through the bushes, intent on putting as much space as they could between themselves and the accursed place. Leicester stood silently for a moment, clutching his sword just beneath its hilt and holding it straight out in front of him.
‘Poor Sir Ian,’ he repeated. ‘What dreadful anguish and despair you must be suffering now.’
At that very moment, Ian and the Doctor were trying to quell the bubbles of laughter that threatened to burst their blood vessels. The Doctor puffed and panted out his pleasure at the way Ian had used his wits and fooled Leicester, while Ian held his side and endeavoured to control himself. The two girls sat side by side on the couch smiling happily.
Finally, the two men recovered, knowing it was more the extent of their relief than any genuine humour at the situation which caused the outburst. They sat around as they were; the Doctor and Vicki in their monks’ habits, Ian in his motley costume, half Saracen guard, half English knight, Barbara with the red cloak wrapped around her, the flimsy transparent coverings on her arms and legs bearing the travel stains of her escape from Lydda. They related their adventures to each other, matching this action with that happening, describing one character, revelling in another; passing from incident to incident and adventure to adventure until the stories met and ended with their last fortunate meeting in the wood.
Then Ian and Barbara went off to their rooms to bathe and change, leaving the Doctor to fuss around his controls. Vicki sat on the couch for a while, silent with her thoughts. ‘Richard the Lionheart never recaptured Jerusalem, did he, Doctor?’ she said eventually.
‘No, but he came very near to it, my child,’ he replied, his fingers brushing gently over his beloved switches and levers, conscious of the healthy hum of the controls, sure that his Time and Space machine was responding accurately to every impulse.
Finally he turned and leaned against the control column, smiling at Vicki. He thought of his granddaughter, Susan, for a moment, who had sat in that exact position so many times before.
‘He faced the Holy City, and then shielded his eyes,’ he said.
‘Yes, I remember reading that somewhere. But why? He had come so far... why didn’t he do what he’d set out to do?
‘Frankly, I think Richard knew he could conquer the city but couldn’t hold it. I believe he estimated what the capture of Jerusalem would do – arouse a shout of praise and hope throughout the Christian world. But against this he had to put the dreadful shock it would be to his world’s morale when Saladin recaptured it again. People always remember the last battle, my child. No, Richard was right to do what he did.’
Vicki stood up and moved nearer the Doctor, staring fascinated at the lights that flashed and the wheels that spun, a constant source of never-ending delight to her.
‘And where do we go now, Doctor?’
He smiled and shook his head, the only answer he would give.
And the Tardis flashed on its way, hurtling through the galaxies of Space, spinning through the barriers of Time, searching for a new resting-place on a fresh horizon.
Doctor Who and the Crusaders Page 14
