‘Well,’ said Clara, ‘as luck would have it, I think that our paths are leading us the same way. If you’re looking for the Glamour that means you’re looking for Lancelot. And so am I, now. So let’s go together. Again.’
‘Why should I take you with me?’ said Emfil.
‘Because I know exactly where he is.’
Emfil looked at her suspiciously. ‘And why do you want to take me with you?’
‘Because I need a favour.’ Clara grinned. ‘What do you say? One more adventure?’
He looked at her doubtfully. ‘If we must.’
‘Good,’ said Clara. ‘Now, I know you’re not much of a jewel thief, but how are you when it comes to horse rustling?’
—
We came, the Doctor and I, to Lord Lancelot’s tent, at the centre of our encampment. We were surprised to find it unguarded, but perhaps that old knight no longer cared for the perils of the world. We slipped inside easily, and found the space within so dark that at first I believed that Lancelot was not there. Surely nobody could spend the hours in such a gloom? But as my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I made out a chair at the far side of the tent, and, sitting upon it, Lancelot himself. His head slumped down, chin almost to his chest, and I would have thought he was asleep, except that as we approached I caught a glimmer of his eyes beneath his lashes. Did he sit here often in the dark, I wondered, brooding over the long years of his quest, and the absence of the treasure which he sought?
‘My lord,’ I said, to him. ‘I have important news. I received a summons from the Duke, asking me to return speedily to the defence of our city. Therefore I beg leave to depart from your company at once, and to return home.’
The knight did not lift his head.
‘My lord,’ I said. ‘I do not know how much you learned of us during your short visit, or what you have gleaned from us upon our journey together. But a great army approaches our city, and it is set upon our destruction. We must return home, the knights and I. We must join the defence of our home.’
He still gave no reply, and I was beginning to doubt whether he was well. Slowly, I stepped forwards, and this movement roused him at last from his stupor. ‘Sir,’ I said. ‘May I have your leave to return home? Will you release me, and those who came with me?’
He looked at me then through eyes that I think had seen more than I will ever dream or understand. How long had this man been travelling? How weary must he have been?
‘Only your own will holds you here,’ he said. ‘I cannot force you to stay, nor could I stop you from leaving.’
‘And the rest of the knights?’ said the Doctor. ‘Will you keep them here?’
‘Ask them,’ said Lancelot. ‘They can speak for themselves.’
‘And you, sir,’ I said, thinking that while I had the chance I would make my appeal to him. ‘Will you come back with us, with your company? The Duke made you welcome in his hall, sir. He sent men with you that he could ill afford to lose. Soon our city will be in desperate straits. Will you come with me, sir, to our aid?’
Lancelot’s head fell back against his chest. ‘The Quest is all that matters,’ he said. ‘We cannot abandon the Quest.’
I tried a few more times, but he would not speak again, and at length, the Doctor signalled to me that we should leave. ‘Well,’ he said, when we came out into the cool, welcome air, ‘you’ve got your answer. You can go whenever you like and take whoever wants to go back with you. The question now is whether you can find anyone who wants to go back with you.’
And so it proved. One by one, I spoke to the men who had set out with me that morning from the city, a hundred of them all told, and for each one who said that he would return with me, another four said that they would not forsake the Quest for the Grail. Even when I told them of the approach of Conrad’s army, they could not be persuaded. But I could not judge them cowards or deserters. It was plain to me that whatever love they had had for Aurelian had been replaced now with reverence for that ancient and weary knight whose presence I had just left. A great power Lancelot held over them, and they would not now be torn from him.
‘I’ll keep trying,’ the Doctor said to me. ‘After you’re gone, I’ll keep on at them. I’ll try to send more after you.’
This news was bad. ‘Doctor,’ I said, ‘do I understand you correctly? Do you not ride with me for my home?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m staying here,’ he said. ‘There might still be something I can do.’
‘I am grieved at this news,’ I said. ‘I believe you would be a great help to us back at the city. But I think that I could not persuade you to depart yet.’ I smiled. ‘Your mystery is not yet solved, is it? Lancelot casts his own, particular spell over you.’
The Doctor looked perturbed by that suggestion. ‘I don’t think that’s why I’m staying,’ he said. ‘At least, I hope that’s not why…But, you’re right, Bernhardt. I don’t like an unsolved mystery. And the presence here of a man named Lancelot – whoever he might be in reality – remains unexplained. So stay here I will, until I have a satisfactory explanation. But if I happen to use my time to persuade a few more of your recalcitrant knights that their duty is with their city and their Duke rather than here – then that’s surely to the good.’ He must have seen my expression, because he added, ‘I’m not walking out on you, Bernhardt. I promise you, I always turn up again – usually when I’m least expected.’
And since I could hardly force him to come with me – and I did not want to force him – this was our goodbye, at least, I hoped, for the present.
In the end, a scant twenty of us set out to return to our city, barely a fifth of the proud company that had set out those weeks before. At least our journey home was the by the quickest way: we had no need stray down every lane, chasing stories; we did not stop by dark and lonely lakes in the hope that someone there remained who could give us word of the long-lost Grail. No, our purpose – our quest – was clear. To come to our city by the swiftest route, and, reaching our home, to bring what aid we could, and, more, to bring heart to the people there, in their most desperate hour. So quickly did we ride, hardly stopping to eat or to sleep, that I barely had time to think what welcome I might receive from Aurelian. But when we turned the bend in the road, and my city came into view, my heart sank in my chest, and I was afraid.
The welcome we received from the people as we rode through the city was, at least, very warm, even at the sight of so few of us. Cheers rose up as we passed through, and flowers were thrown before us, and I knew that, whatever the cost might be to myself personally, this had been the right decision.
And, in the end, our meeting was not as terrible as I had feared. When we came to the palace, the honour guard welcomed us with silver trumpets. At their sound, the Duke and the Duchess came out, hand in hand, and greeted us. And then Aurelian turned to me, and welcomed me with open arms, and we made our peace, and the three of us together took counsel, and prepared ourselves to stand alongside each other in the battle that was soon to come.
Chapter
11
The plan, Clara had to admit, was not exactly sophisticated: wait till dark, slip away from their guards, then find a couple of spare horses and make a mad dash for it. So she was surprised at how smoothly it was going. She and Emfil sneaked out of the back of their tent, and wandered through the camp, until they spotted two horses standing quietly by themselves, grazing on the grass. ‘They’ll do,’ said Clara. ‘Come on, we can’t waste time.’
But as they crept towards the horses, a tall figure came out of the shadows to bar their way. ‘My friends,’ said Mikhail. ‘I thought you might try to leave us.’
‘And I there I was thinking that you’d forgotten us,’ said Clara. ‘What with your new fancy friends and your being a traitor and everything.’
‘Lady Clara,’ he said, with a smile. ‘You must surely know that you are quite unforgettable. So, friends – tell me where you are going, and why?’
‘That’s easy,’ said Emfil
, frankly. ‘I want to get away. I don’t want to be in the middle of a war. Who wants to be in the middle of a war?’
‘And you, Clara? Does battle frighten you in the same way?’
‘Of course it does,’ said Clara. ‘I’m not daft. But that’s not why I’m going, and you know it. Where do you think I’m going?’
Mikhail folded his arms. ‘Not to the city, I think. You would be trapped there, and you are not the kind of person who would choose inaction over action. No, I think that you go in search of your friend the Doctor, and in search of Lancelot.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Tell me, do these horses meet your requirements?’
Clara stared at him. ‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘Did you leave them here for us?’
‘If I wanted you to remain here, Clara, you would remain here. The guards were sent away from your tent, the horses have been brought here for you to discover. You will find your path unbarred when you leave.’
‘Does Conrad know about this?’ she said.
Mikhail gave a crooked smile. So he wasn’t entirely at Conrad’s beck and call.
‘I don’t understand,’ Clara said. ‘Why are you letting us go?’
‘In the case of this one,’ he nodded at Emfil. ‘I see no purpose in trapping him in the middle of a battle. He is afraid, and he may prove a liability.’
Emfil nodded vigorously. ‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘Disastrous to keep me around. I’ll only get in the way.’
‘And in your case, Clara – I do not believe you would do us harm, and I would not hold you here against you will. You have embroiled yourself in our affairs, but they are not yours and, besides, you have only ever acted in the cause of peace.’ He moved out of her way. ‘Go where you will.’
‘That’s very decent of you,’ she said.
‘I am a better man that you think,’ he replied.
Clara offered Mikhail her hand. He was confused for a moment by what this meant, and then understood, taking her hand and clasping it within her own. ‘Good luck, Mikhail,’ Clara said. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
‘You’ll see,’ he said. ‘In the end, this will be for the best.’
‘Not for Aurelian, I think,’ Clara said.
‘No,’ said Mikhail, and Clara thought she heard regret there. ‘Not for him.’
They took the horses and left. As Mikhail had promised, their way was clear, and soon they were far from the army and riding north, through wild and empty country. ‘Look out for water,’ Clara said, and, at last, abandoning their attempt to find a pool or a lake, they stopped and she knelt down beside a muddy puddle on the road.
‘What are you doing?’ said Emfil.
Clara was hunched over the puddle, blowing on the pendant and muttering under her breath. ‘I’m trying to speak to the Doctor. I can’t get this to work!’
‘I can only speak for myself,’ Emfil said, ‘but I’ve never seen a communications device that involves crouching over a puddle and huffing.’
‘Guena said this would work…’
‘Perhaps,’ Emfil said, ‘you could try more traditional means?’
Clara looked up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I took a look ahead. Lancelot’s company is camped about half-a-mile along the road. If the Doctor’s there, you can go and talk to him.’
Clara felt a rush of relief. She jumped to her feet and gave Emfil a hug, which left the explorer quite flustered. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Everything will be fine if we can find the Doctor.’
They entered the camp quite easily, and passed through it easily too. None of the knights paid them any attention; they seemed wrapped up in their tasks, or else in a dreamy state, their thoughts elsewhere. Then Clara saw a familiar face – but not Bernhardt or the Doctor. It was the grey-haired soldier she had met on her first day in Varuz; the one who had accompanied her and the Doctor to the palace, and had been such a thorn in Mikhail’s side. She wondered what he would think, if he knew what Mikhail was doing now.
‘Hello,’ Clara said. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
The man turned to look at her. At first, his expression was a blank, and then, slowly, recognition returned. ‘Lady Clara.’ A cloud passed over his face. ‘Weren’t you meant to have left Varuz?’ He shrugged. ‘It does not matter, I suppose.’
Clara frowned. ‘What do you mean? Has Conrad taken the city already?’ Surely it was another couple of days before the army could reach the gates? The battle couldn’t be over already?
‘Conrad?’ Again, the soldier looked bewildered. ‘Ah, of course! No, I have no news of Conrad. Does he ride to Varuz?’
‘Yes, he rides,’ said Clara. ‘He rides with a great big army behind him, and he’s nearly at the city gates. Listen, where’s the Doctor? Where’s Bernhardt?’
But the man’s attention had already strayed, and he was turning away. Clara grabbed his arm – and his lack of response to this action was what finally convinced her that something very strange was happening here.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Where’s Bernhardt?’
‘Bernhardt? He’s gone. He left us.’
‘And the Doctor?’
The soldier shrugged. Clara sighed. ‘So why did Bernhardt leave?’
‘The Quest proved too much for him.’
‘The Quest?’ said Clara. ‘Go on, tell me about that.’
‘For the Grail.’ The soldier’s eyes began to shine. ‘All my life,’ he said, ‘there was nothing of meaning. Nothing of purpose. But now…’ He held out his hands and looked past them both, his face enraptured. ‘I’ve seen it in my dreams. If only I can touch it before I die…The Grail!’
Beside Clara, Emfil was fiddling surreptitiously with one of his gadgets. ‘I’m not sure it’s here, Clara. The readings are baffling: half-here, half-absent. Like it was back in the city.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t understand this…’
‘Perhaps it was back in the city all along,’ said Clara. ‘That’s where all the technology is. You’re picking up some trace of that, maybe.’
Emfil nodded. ‘I suppose that could be the case…’ He gave a frustrated sigh. ‘If it’s back in the city, I was so close! It might have been within my grasp!’
‘That’s all right,’ said Clara, ‘because we’re going back.’
‘Back? Back where?’
‘To the city.’
‘Er, Clara,’ Emfil looked nervous, ‘wasn’t there an army heading that way?’
‘That’s right.’
‘A big army.’
‘A very big army.’
‘Which probably means, well, you know, a battle…?’
‘You’re on fire today, Emfil.’ Clara folded her arms. ‘Are you serious about getting your hands on the Glamour or not?’
Emfil gave her a sorrowful look. ‘More than anything else in the universe.’
‘Then we should go back to the city – but we need to bring these knights with us.’ She looked around. The soldier to whom had been talking had wandered away. ‘I don’t think they’ll leave without Lancelot, though. So I need your help.’
Emfil looked doubtful. ‘Weren’t you looking for the Doctor?’
‘He’ll be at the city. He’s always where the trouble is. Are you coming? Or were you not really interested in the Glamour after all?’
With a sigh, Emfil followed Clara as they wandered through the camp in search of Lancelot. They found the captain of the company in his tent, sitting with his head down, in the dark.
‘Hello?’ Clara called, lifting the flap of the tent. ‘Are you at home to visitors?’
Lancelot did not move or answer.
‘I just want a quick word,’ Clara said. ‘If that’s OK?’
‘Is he asleep?’ whispered Emfil. ‘I think he’s asleep.’
‘He’s a legend,’ said Clara. ‘Legends don’t sleep. They’re too busy being legendary. Hey, Lancelot!’ said Clara. Lancelot did not reply. She had no idea whether he was listening or, indeed, whether he was even awake, but she carried on nevertheles
s. ‘You’re heading the wrong way. The Grail – it’s not here. It’s back at the city. My friend – Emfil – that’s what he thinks, and he knows all about it.’ She turned to him. ‘Don’t you, Emfil?’
‘Er…’
‘Come on!’ She tugged at his arm. ‘Tell the man what you know.’
Nervously, Emfil stepped forwards, holding up his tracker. ‘Um. Yes. Well. The Grail – only it’s not the Grail you’re really after, is it? It’s the Glamour.’
Was it Clara’s imagination, or did Lancelot stir at that?
‘I’ve been tracking it too,’ Emfil said. ‘I tracked it to this world, same as you. And my readings – they, er, suggest that we should be back at the city. That the Glamour is back at the city.’ He turned to Clara and whispered, ‘Actually, that’s not strictly true—’
‘Shut up,’ advised Clara, and then she addressed Lancelot again. ‘The problem is, that there’s an army on the way to the city, and the man leading it, Conrad, doesn’t care about grails or glamours. He just wants to destroy the city.’
Now the old legend was definitely listening. His head was up, and he was staring at them both.
‘So my advice to you, Sir Lancelot,’ said Clara, ‘is that you all hop on your horses and get back to the city pretty darn quick, or else soon there won’t be a Glamour. The city will be ruined, and the Glamour will go with it.’
Lancelot sat for a while in silent contemplation. Then, with a swiftness of purpose that Clara would not have believed the old knight could show, he rose to his feet and strode out of the tent. Standing outside he called out his orders.
‘My knights!’ he cried. ‘We ride! We make for the city! There we will find what we most desire!’ And all the company – Glamour Knights and men of Varuz alike – jumped to obey his command.
‘OK,’ Clara said to herself. ‘That was slightly easier than I was expecting.’ Then she sighed. ‘But Doctor – where are you?’
—
Two days after the first messenger arrived reporting that Conrad was on his way, more messengers arrived to tell us that the river had been crossed, and that the army was no more than a day’s march from the city gates. All that day, therefore, we hurried to bring in whoever was beyond the city walls. Refugees had been arriving in a slow trickle throughout that week, and on this last day a few hardy souls from the north country arrived. They brought with them a tale of a party of grim knights who had passed their way, heading further into waste lands, on a strange quest. My heart sank, for it seemed to me that the Doctor had failed in his attempt to send more men our way. Any knight of Varuz who changed his mind now would leave Lancelot and arrive only to find a city in ruins.
Doctor Who: Royal Blood (Glamour Chronicles, Book 1) Page 13
