Doctor Who BBC N07 - The Stone Rose

by Doctor Who

  The name ‘Fortuna’ reverberated around Rose’s head. That was 30

  what it said under her statue in the British Museum. And perhaps, soon, she would discover exactly how the statue got there.

  ‘Ursus wants to do a sculpture of me,’ she told them.

  Marcia looked surprised for a second, though she quickly hid it.

  ‘But that is charming!’ she said. ‘I know my husband has given him permission to work in the studio here for as long as he wishes.’ She smiled indulgently. ‘I believe he fancies himself a patron of the arts.

  Anyway, you must stay as our guest until the work is complete.’

  ‘I don’t want to put you out. . . ’ said Rose, but Marcia was already doing the good hostess bit and shushing her protests.

  ‘It will be a delight to have a young person around while my son –’

  her poised manner faltered for a moment – ‘while my son is missing.

  I shall appreciate the company.’

  ‘We’re gonna get him back,’ said Rose awkwardly. ‘The Doctor and me – and Vanessa,’ she added hurriedly. ‘You know, with her predictions and that.’

  The young girl flushed.

  Rose remembered what the Doctor had said about getting her talking, but it was awkward with Marcia there. So she said, ‘Actually, I think we could do with her help right now. While the Doctor’s tracing Optatus’s movements, Vanessa could be. . . picking up vibes, that sort of thing.’

  Marcia nodded knowledgeably. ‘Yes of course.’ She waved a hand to dismiss Vanessa and the girl followed Rose out of the room.

  They wandered into the courtyard. Slaves passed them, carrying baskets of fruit or freshly baked bread.

  ‘Ooh, love that smell,’ said Rose, as a tray of loaves wafted past.

  ‘I. . . I believe Optatus walked through this courtyard,’ said Vanessa nervously.

  Rose gave a laugh. ‘You don’t say! Look, it’s all right. I’m not after any hocus-pocus stuff. I just thought you could do with a break. Come on.’ She led Vanessa back to the grove where Optatus’s statue stood and they sat down together on the grass.

  ‘He looks so young,’ Rose murmured, gazing at the statue. ‘Sweet sixteen. Same age as you.’

  31

  Vanessa nodded. ‘I think so.’

  Rose darted a look at her. ‘You’re not sure?’

  ‘It’s. . . hard to keep track sometimes.’

  ‘So, what star sign are you?’.

  ‘Scorpio,’ said Vanessa. ‘Determined and forceful.’

  Rose laughed. ‘Well, now I’m convinced! You don’t believe in that stuff, do you.’

  It was a statement, not a question.

  The girl looked scared, so Rose hurried to reassure her. ‘It’s all right. I know it’s a load of rubbish, but I bet you were forced into it somehow. Am I right?’

  Hesitantly, Vanessa nodded.

  ‘So, here’s what’s gonna happen. The Doctor and I will find Optatus.

  That’s what we do, sort things out. You can stick with us. We’ll tell everyone we need you. Hopefully no one’ll ask you about aspects or Saturn or anything, but you obviously know how to talk the talk if you have to. Then, when it’s all sorted, we’ll get you home somehow. Get you out of all this.’

  Rose thought of her own life at sixteen. GCSEs, falling in love, dropping out of school, leaving home. All ended up in disaster and heartbreak, of course, and she’d never want to go back – but whatever else it was, it was living. What Vanessa had been going through – well, she didn’t know the details, but she’d be prepared to bet it didn’t really come under that category.

  Rose had thought Vanessa would be pleased. But when she looked at the girl, she saw that she had begun to cry.

  ‘Hey, what is it?’ she said, folding her into a hug.

  ‘I don’t have a home,’ said the girl. ‘Not any more.’

  32

  Vanessa was still crying softly when the Doctor hounded into the grove. It didn’t seem to bother him though. He plonked himself down on the grass beside them.

  ‘OK, here’s what we’ve got. Optatus visits Ursus in his workshop every day for a couple of weeks. The general impression the boy gave was that the sculpture was still at the planning stages, but as no one was allowed in to see what was going on we’ve got no evidence to back that up. Then a few days ago, he gets up early, breakfasts on a couple of wheat biscuits, yum yum, and heads off to the studio. And that’s it. No one sees him leave – which isn’t necessarily suspicious, but what is odd is that Ursus suddenly declares the statue is almost finished, needing only a few more days of finishing touches.’

  ‘Is that quick, then?’ asked Rose, whose experience in these fields extended not much further than a clay pot in Year Eight art lessons.

  ‘I’d say so,’ said the Doctor. ‘You wouldn’t need a model the whole time, but for the statue itself I would have thought months, years even. I’m not a master sculptor, of course. . . ’

  Rose grinned.

  ‘What, you mean you never had lessons with

  Michelangelo or anything?’

  33

  The Doctor gave her a warning look and Rose realised she’d slipped up. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘That’s all right,’ he whispered back, then looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps I should pop back to the Renaissance some time. The Doctor’s

  “David” has quite a ring to it.’ He raised his voice again. ‘Other thing is, if the statue was that near completion, Ursus must’ve been working on the thing itself, rather than preliminaries. And marble might be all white and shiny but it’s not clean to work with. Dirt, dust, you name it. Yet no one ever noticed Ursus or Optatus in desperate need of a wash.’

  ‘So. . . he wasn’t doing a sculpture after all?’ said Rose.

  But the Doctor pointed up at the statue. ‘Now there we do have evidence,’ he said. ‘Anyway, it’s imperative that we get inside his studio.

  Find out his working practices.’

  ‘Well, I’m all ready to be model girl,’ said Rose. The Doctor nodded.

  ‘Good. Tell you what, though. Let’s go and have a look now, shall we?’

  Rose grinned. ‘You can’t sit still for two minutes, you can’t!’ she turned to Vanessa, who had stopped crying but still didn’t appear to be a barrel of laughs. ‘Look, d’you wanna stay here? If anyone comes, just say you’re meditating on the statue or something. Tell them we told you to.’

  Vanessa nodded gratefully, so the Doctor and Rose walked off alone.

  ‘What’ the matter with her?’ the Doctor asked. ‘Is something bad going to happen next Wednesday?’

  Rose frowned at him. ‘She can’t really see into the future, she said so. I told her we’d get her home and she said she didn’t have one.

  And got upset about it.’

  ‘Maybe her home’s just a very long way away,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘And in the meantime she’s stuck here as a slave.’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t like it any more than you do. But some slaves do lead happy lives, you know. Or I they’re given their freedom, or buy it.’

  ‘Doesn’t make it right,’ Rose muttered.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t.’ Suddenly he grabbed Rose’s arm and pulled her behind a tree.

  34

  ‘What?’ she mouthed.

  He waited a few moments and then let her go. ‘Ursus,’ he said. ‘Just saw him.’

  ‘Which means he’s not in his workshop!’ Rose realised.

  ‘So what better time could there be for us to visit?’

  They hurried off towards the stables, keeping an ‘y out for any sign of a returning Ursus. The Doctor tried the door of the workshop, but it was locked.

  ‘Sonic screwdriver?’ said Rose, looking at the Doctor’s belt.

  ‘Back in the villa,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Do you know how frustrating it is not to have pockets? I feel like I’ve lost a part of me. I keep going to stick my hands in them and th
ey’re not there.’

  ‘You need one of those little pouches to hang on your belt,’ Rose told him. She reached up to her head. A ringlet fell over her shoulder as she detached a silver hairpin and handed it to him. ‘Back to the old-fashioned methods, I guess.’

  He nodded. ‘When in Rome. . . ’

  Rose kept a lookout, but it didn’t take the Doctor long to pick the lock and Ursus didn’t appear. Finally, the door swung open. The Doctor strode in like he owned the place.

  The first room was more or less empty, containing just a small table holding a jug, a cup and a hunk of bread. But as they went through it and entered the next one, they saw a very attractive young man sitting on a bench. He jumped up as they entered and bowed his head.

  ‘Ooh, hello,’ said Rose.

  ‘Hello!’ the Doctor echoed. ‘I’m the Doctor and this is Rose. Who are you?’

  The boy looked nervous. ‘My name is Tiro. Forgive me, but do you have the permission of my master, Ursus, to be here? He allows no one in his workshop.’

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t mind us. He told us to pop in. Told us, he’d left the door unlocked specially. I mean, he doesn’t usually leave the door unlocked, does he?’

  Tiro shook his head.

  ‘There you go, then.’

  35

  Rose grinned. ‘We wanted to check it all out, you see? ‘I’m gonna be posing for him.’ She did a pirouette, ‘Next top model, that’s me.’ She looked at Tiro, taking in his slim, muscled figure, his perfect features and his softly waved hair. ‘Just a guess, but you’re here to pose too, right?’

  Tiro nodded. ‘My master bought me for that purpose, yes.’

  Rose pulled a face. ‘You know, I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to that.’ She shook her head at Tiro’s inquiring look. ‘Doesn’t matter.

  So, how d’you like being a model, then?’,

  He smiled at her. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t started yet. I’m a bit nervous.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Rose agreed.

  ‘Fighting monsters, exploring moons, defeating evil – nothing compared with standing still for a few hours while some bloke chips away with a chisel,’ put in the Doctor.

  Rose told Tiro to ignore him.

  She moved over to look at a pile of odds and ends in the corner –a spear, a bow, a horn, a hat with little wings attached. ‘Everything a god or goddess might need,’ she said. She picked up the horn and struck a pose. ‘What d’ya think?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll bring me luck,’ said the Doctor. He walked past her, and began opening doors and peering through. That’s odd,’ he commented. ‘What’s odd?’ said Rose, rolling her eyes. The Doctor found oddness everywhere.

  He frowned. ‘Well, presumably Ursus is about to start two new statues – one of you, one of Tiro here. But there’s not a scrap of stone in the place.’

  Rose shrugged. ‘Maybe he hasn’t got it yet. Rome probably doesn’t do next-day delivery.’

  The Doctor’s ears had pricked up. ‘Aha, that sounds like the ursine footsteps of the man himself. I’ll ask him.’

  The door opened and Ursus entered. His face became thunderous at the sight of the Doctor and Rose. ‘I thought I informed you that no one is allowed in my workshop,’ he bellowed, and turned to glower at Tiro, who shrank back nervously.

  36

  The Doctor stepped forward. ‘Don’t blame the boy,’ he said. ‘And don’t blame us either. You sadly neglected to tell Rose what time you required her for her sitting, so, being pleasant, neighbourly folks, we merely popped in to find out when would be convenient for you.

  That’s all.’

  Ursus seemed to calm down slightly – although not enough for Rose’s liking. She had the distinct impression that he was a dangerous man to cross. ‘Be here at the third hour after sunrise,’ he grunted at her, and she had to fight back the urge to salute sarcastically.

  ‘All right if the Doctor comes along and watches?’ she asked, knowing the answer.

  ‘No!’ the sculptor exploded. ‘No, it is not all right! No one is permitted to see me working!’

  ‘I only asked,’ said Rose.

  ‘I noticed you don’t seem to have any stone ready f r your sculptures,’ the Doctor said, wilfully ignoring Ursus’s blatant desire for them to leave instantly. ‘I happen to know a few merchants, best marble in the business, I –’

  ‘It’s on its way,’ Ursus barked, before the Doctor could develop his lie any further.

  ‘Fine, fine. No need to thank me for my very kind offer,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Your offer? Pal You know marble merchants, you say. You break into my studio. You are a rival, come to steal my ideas!’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ said the Doctor indignantly.

  ‘He’s no master sculptor,’ put in Rose. ‘He said so himself only half an hour ago.’

  ‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘Glad that’s sorted.’ He turned away and began to examine a table full of sculpting tools.

  ‘You are trying my patience,’ said the sculptor.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said the Doctor, still bending over the table and making not the slightest effort to stop what he was doing. He held up a chisel. ‘You know, you really do keep your instruments in perfect con-dition. You wouldn’t know that any of these had ever been used.’

  ‘I am a careful workman,’ said Ursus.

  37

  ‘I’ll say you are,’ said the Doctor, sounding impressed. ‘Even your workshop is spotless. Not a trace of marble dust anywhere. Still, I suppose there are slaves to clear up after you.’

  ‘No one is allowed in my workshop,’ Ursus reiterated. ‘No one except my subjects. Gracilis does not come in here. His wife does not come in here. Even slaves do not come in here. All respect my need for privacy to create art. The only person who does not is you.’

  The Doctor looked astounded. ‘What gave you that idea? We’re leaving this minute, aren’t we, Rose?’

  ‘Right now,’ she agreed, sketching a little half-wave of farewell to Tiro, who grinned at her.

  ‘Talking of being a careful workman,’ said the Doctor, as they sauntered slowly over towards the door, ‘I suppose that’s why you wear those gloves, to protect your hands. Bit of a trendsetter there. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else –’

  But they were through the doorway by then and the door was slammed shut on them. A key turned loudly in the lock.

  ‘Obviously doesn’t want to share his fashion tips,’ said the Doctor.

  He looked up at the sun, measuring its position in the sky with what Rose assumed was an expert eye. ‘Come on. I reckon it’s nearly time for dinner.’

  Rose wanted a word with Marcia before dinner, but that didn’t take long. Grinning at her achievement, she hurried back to her room to get ready. She was slightly nervous about dinner, but after living with her mum for most of her life she reckoned she could cope with virtually anything in the food line.

  When she finally went in to dinner, it wasn’t just food she had to cope with, though. First a slave washed her feet, which was weird – no one had washed her feet for her since her mum had rinsed off Tenby sand with a bucket of seawater while she sat on a deckchair eating ice cream. Then she was led to what was pretty much a bed, and she worked out she was supposed to lie down on her front, as that was what Marcia and Gracilis were doing. The Doctor, however, propped himself up on his side, resting on one elbow, and Rose thought that 38

  looked a much easier position to eat from so she copied him instead.

  She had this idea that Roman meals were all dormice and flamin-gos, more pet shop than pizzeria. But this wasn’t at all like that. Rose was served some unidentified meat smothered in a strong-smelling sauce, with ordinary, recognisable vegetables like beans and aspara-gus on the side. She looked around her for some cutlery – but there was none to be seen.

  The Doctor guessed what she was doing and grinned. ‘They haven’t invented forks yet and no one bothers with a knife,’ he told her,
picking up a piece of food with his fingers and popping it in his mouth.

  She grimaced. ‘Gross! It’s all covered in sauce.’

  ‘ Garum,’ said the Doctor. ‘Ferment fish guts for a couple of months and you’ve got something strong enough to disguise the taste of rotten meat. No freezers, you see.’

  Rose thought she might be sick. ‘I might just stick to the veg,’ she said. ‘When do they invent pizza?’

  ‘If you want a Four Seasons or a Vegetarian Hot, you’ll be waiting a few centuries,’ the Doctor told her.

  ‘How about I order now, give them plenty of time.’ The Doctor grinned. ‘Oh, and it’s considered polite to belch after the meal,’ he added.

  ‘Then they’re gonna have to think I’m rude,’ Rose announced firmly.

  After they’d finished, a slave came round to wash their hands, while another slave brought in fruit and nuts and little honeyed cakes, which were rather more to Rose’s taste.

  Vanessa was nowhere to be seen during the meal Rose wondered if she was still outside, sitting in I h dusk by Optatus’s statue, or if she was somewhere in the house with the other slaves. She thought she’d better check on the girl after dinner. Laving the Doctor in conversation with Marcia and Gracilis, hearing all sorts of boring gossip about all sorts of boring people that they expected the Doctor to know, she slipped out of the house and down to the grove.

  Sure enough, Vanessa was still there.

  Rose sat down beside her in the gloom and produced a hunk of bread that she’d managed to smuggle out. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I was 39

  worried you’d not had anything to eat. Sorry it’s not much.’

  Vanessa smiled her thanks. ‘You’re very kind.’

  Rose shrugged. ‘My pleasure. Look, why don’t you come inside?’

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ said Vanessa hopelessly. ‘I’ve never been in a house like this before. I don’t know how I’m supposed to behave.

  They flog slaves who don’t do the right thing, I’m sure.’

  ‘But you’re here as an astrologer, not a normal slave,’ said Rose, trying to reassure her. ‘They won’t flog you, I won’t let ’em. Look, how about this? We tell them that you need to commune with the stars in meditation, or something, that it’s an essential part of your astrologer’s rituals. They’ll let you do anything then. They think you’re going to get their son back. No flogging.’