Doctor Who_ Byzantium! Part 14

He also used the time while he was with the Christians to get to know as much as he could about them. And he was very surprised by what he discovered.

James, for instance, was a second-generation Greek Christian, whose extensive family background in Judaea provided a direct link for many of the newly converted Christians with the actual teachings of Christ himself. James's uncle, he said, had witnessed the sermon on the mount, whilst other family friends had included Mary of Jerusalem, the mother of the apostle Mark, in whose house Jesus and his first disciples had met and wors.h.i.+pped.

The Doctor had many interesting conversations with the man, who told him that he had met several of those major figures in the early church left alive after the Jewish and Roman purges of the previous twenty-five years. James had travelled the empire widely, across the Mediterranean area, to Antioch, Cyprus and Caesarea and into North Africa spreading the gospels. He recently settled in Byzantium with a series of secret parchments which, he said, contained the memoirs of his old friend Mark and Mark's cousin, the priest Barnabas, and included numerous stories given to them by their travelling companion, Paul of Tarsus.

The writings, James said, had been compiled whilst they were all under arrest in Rome and had also contained portions gained from interviews with the first apostle, Peter the fisherman, with whom Mark was currently hiding in or around Babylon.

Although Christianity itself was conceptually alien to the Doctor, he had always found in his studies of the basic principles of the religion, a lot of ideological trappings that he considered to be worthy of considerable investigation, particularly its similarities to Greek philosophy. In his lengthy conversations with James and his friend Hebron by the light of a glowing, crackling fire, the Doctor enjoyed the healthy debates that cut through the rhetoric of the faith's dry language and got to the actual personalities involved - something that the Doctor found much more interesting than moral and ethical questions.

Hebron, fascinatingly, was another former travelling companion of Paul and his group of followers who included the physician Luke and also Barnabas and Timothy. Luke had, similarly, been compiling a testament to the miracles that they believed had been performed by Jesus, the carpenter of Nazareth. Both he and Mark had, seemingly, been influenced by an earlier set of spiritual histories written by one of Jesus's original disciples, a Galilean tax official known as Matthew. But there were subtle differences in the three sets of stories told that interested the Doctor somewhat more than the actual stories themselves.

Lessons could be learned here in semantics, perspective and contextualisation. 'It's known as Chinese Whispers,' the Doctor told James, when his version of one of the stories conflicted with the sample of another text read by Hebron. 'A man tells something to two people, who tell it to others.

Somewhere along the line what the man originally said is distorted in some subtle yet important ways. If I tell you that I have three oxen and a box that travels through s.p.a.ce, by the time you have imparted this information to, say, young Daniel, and he has told it to his brother, and the brother had told a friend, and the friend had told his friend, and his friend has told a Roman soldier he meets in the market-place...'

James nodded, understanding perfectly well the example that the Doctor was making. 'Then you would have ten oxen and a box that travels through time?' he asked.

uncannily accurate,' the Doctor replied with a little smile.

'But do you see the danger of placing all of your faith in mere words on a page?'

'But we are not,' Hebron told him The old man's voice was rough and coa.r.s.e from an illness which had recently prevented him from continuing his travels. 'The Word is the Living Word. It is divine and, therefore, infallible.'

'Perhaps,' the Doctor said, enjoying his jousting with these two honest and likeable men. Towards Daniel, on the other hand, he was cooler. Daniel was an idealistic young Christian who had fled persecutions in Damascus with his wife Rachel, their infant son and his equally headstrong brother, Aaron. They were all pleasant enough, but they had the fire of fanaticism within them that time had not yet dulled with a liberal dose of common-sense. The main conversation that the Doctor had shared with Daniel had been about the young man's belief that the Jewish establishment in Jerusalem was engaged in a concerted and active conspiracy to discredit Christianity.

'There was a man named Lazarus,' he told the Doctor, 'risen by the Christ from the dead.'

I have heard the story,' the Doctor said. 'I always found it rather unlikely, personally. A man being regenerated... Whatever next?'

after Jesus himself rose and ascended to heaven,'

Daniel said, unperturbed, 'the Pharisee tried to murder Lazarus and other members of his family to cover up the resurrection that had transpired in that place. And there was a systematic policy of extermination of anyone who had ever been in direct contact with the Christ himself.'

I have no doubt that they, the Jews that is, consider Christianity to be a danger to them,' said the Doctor, trying not to sound dubious. 'The problem of one system of belief replacing another is a regular occurrence through history.

And fear accompanies such a change.'

Finally, on the third day, the Doctor felt well enough to move outside of the caves for the first time since he had returned to consciousness after the market square ma.s.sacre. The fresh air of a fine Thracian morning engulfed him and for a moment his senses were almost overcome. Dizzily, and with emotion in his voice, the Doctor turned back to his new friends in the cave and grandly announced, 'I have been renewed.'

James nodded wisely. 'It is the will of the Lord,' he said.

The Doctor's exuberant mood was slightly p.r.i.c.ked by this. 'Hmm, yes, perhaps,' he bl.u.s.tered. 'Now, the question that I have asked you so many times during these last days - will you allow me to return to my carriage?'

James thought for a moment. He turned to Hebron, whose old eyes were filled with tears. 'It would be selfish to keep the Doctor from his quest to find his friends any longer than is absolutely necessary,' Hebron noted.

I agree,' said James, turning back to the Doctor. 'Daniel and Aaron will guide you to the place from whence you came,' he continued, rising and joining the Doctor at the cave mouth. 'May you go with peace in your heart and the will of the Lord in your soul.'

'Thank you,' said the Doctor. 'I shall not be sorry to say goodbye to Byzantium, but I shall regret a farewell to you and your people.'

Daniel and his brother Aaron guided the Doctor through the twisting rocky paths of the hills behind Byzantium, and then through the long stretch of wasteland towards the place where the TARDIS had crash-landed. The journey took them most of the day, with the Doctor frequently having to stop to catch his breath.

If truth be told, he was not feeling at all well, the concussion in his head having yet to clear fully, despite what he had told James earlier.

At last, the small outcrop of rocks where the TARDIS had come to rest a week earlier came into sight. The Doctor's mood visibly brightened and he pointed towards the incline behind which his salvation lay. 'Over there,' he told Daniel. "That is where my carriage rests.'

The Christian nodded and then turned to his brother. 'Run on ahead and make sure that an ambush has not been prepared for the unwary,' he said.

Aaron raced off into the distance.

'Can I just say,' the Doctor said, shaking the hand of Daniel, 'that I hope everything works out for you and your people. And I don't think I would be breaking any great laws of time if I were to tell you that your religion will continue to flourish and grow over the coming years.

Eventually, every man, woman and child on Earth will know of Jesus of Nazareth and what he did and said.'

Of course, whether they believe it or not is a different matter, the Doctor thought as Daniel digested this. A shout from the distance caused both the Doctor and Daniel to look up suddenly.

Aaron was running back towards them, his arms pin-wheeling as he dashed across the dry lake bed, a cloud of dust trailing behind him.

Panting and out of breath, he took a moment to recover, doubled-up, hands on knees.

Is everything all right?' asked Daniel, fearing that a trap had been sprung, but he could see no other sign of the approach of hostile forces.

'What does this carriage of yours resemble unto?' Aaron asked the Doctor.

'Blue,' the Doctor replied. 'Slightly taller and broader than the height of a man.'

Aaron shook his head. 'There is nothing of such a description in that place. Lots of tracks and footprints. If your carriage was there, it is now gone.'

A cold chill ripped through the Doctor. Suddenly, he felt very old and very tired.

And very alone.

Stranded, in Byzantium.

Chapter Seventeen.

The Culture Bunker, Part Five - How Soon Is Now?

And he began to speak unto them by parables.

Mark 12:1

'Well, this is a fine kettle o' fish, isn't it?' Ian asked Fabulous as the old man poked his head out of the library door and then returned with the news that the coast outside was clear.

Ian emerged from his hiding place in the s.p.a.ce between two rows of shelves and looked nervously around.

'Are you sure?' he asked, ready to spring back into concealment at the slightest hint that any of his numerous female pursuers were in evidence.

as certain as it is possible to be,' noted Fabulous with a bemused smile. 'The ladies of the household seldom venture into this unworthy vessel of knowledge.'

I could make a comment about that,' Ian replied, 'but I'm in enough trouble with every woman I seem to come into contact with. I don't want any more of them after me.' Chesterton sat down and put his head in his hands. 'This is ridiculous,' he said, in an anguished comedy-voice. 'I feel like a character in a Whitehall farce, rus.h.i.+ng around trying to avoid avoid nookie.' nookie.'

He looked up to find his friend laughing. 'And you're not helping any, I'm sad to say.'

Fabulous was puzzled as well as amused. 'Why do you not simply surrender to the arms of your admirers and let them have their way with you? There are worse situations to be in, surely?'

'Because,' Ian said, 'that would be the worst thing I could possibly do. I'm not here to make enemies and get my end away as often as possible.' He shook his head at the continued puzzlement on Fabulous's face. 'Never mind, let's just say that I don't want to do anything that would give anybody who wishes me harm any possible ammunition.'

Fabulous saw the wisdom of Ian's reticence. 'There are those who would see you compromised, my friend,' he confirmed. 'They hide themselves in the shadows and say little, but they are getting bolder in their submersibility. Soon, they will act. You must be ready for them.'

'Great,' Ian said fatalistically. 'I mean, that's just great, isn't it?

Every time my life seems on the verge of being sorted out, these animals come crawling out of the woodwork and start messing things up with their plans and their plots and their sneakiness. Why won't they just leave me alone?'

'Because they fear you, young Ian Chesterton. They fear the intelligence and the honesty that you have brought with you as your baggage to Byzantium.'

'That's logical,' Ian noted sadly. The intrigue of the praefectus's praefectus's household did both fascinate and repulse Chesterton, it was true. It hadn't taken Ian long to develop for himself a reputation around the villa as a great entertainer and orator who had a wealth of folk tales previously unheard. He was spending as much time in the company of Fabulous, Drusus and Gemellus as he could, while attempting to fight off the advances of Jocelyn, Antonia and (to a lesser extent, since their talk the day before) Felicia. household did both fascinate and repulse Chesterton, it was true. It hadn't taken Ian long to develop for himself a reputation around the villa as a great entertainer and orator who had a wealth of folk tales previously unheard. He was spending as much time in the company of Fabulous, Drusus and Gemellus as he could, while attempting to fight off the advances of Jocelyn, Antonia and (to a lesser extent, since their talk the day before) Felicia.

And that was where the real hard work started.

As he continued to bemoan his lack of fortune to Fabulous, the door to the library opened and Ian threw himself dramatically to the floor, instinctively crawling under the table fearing, after Fabulous's revelations, that the new entrant was either an armed a.s.sa.s.sin or a spurned potential lover. He didn't particularly want to face either right now.

When there was no reaction after a few seconds, he popped his head out from beneath the table to find Gemellus looking at him quizzically.

'Sorry,' said Ian. 'I'm just having a very very bad day.' bad day.'

'Then now would, perhaps, be an inopportune moment to carry out the task that I am commanded to do by my praefectus praefectus?'

asked Gemellus.

'That depends,' replied Ian.

'Thalius Maximus wishes an audience with his guest.'

Ian nodded and emerged from the dusty floor.

The day before, on their first meeting, Ian had told the praefectus praefectus a few stories from his travels, reducing the tale of the Daleks and the Thals to a parable about fear of the unknown. A couple of pieces of cod Shakespeare from his repertoire, singing an a a few stories from his travels, reducing the tale of the Daleks and the Thals to a parable about fear of the unknown. A couple of pieces of cod Shakespeare from his repertoire, singing an a cappella cappella Irish folk song and one or two knock-knock jokes had completed the act and, to Ian's immense relief, Thalius had been extremely taken with the young scribe from Londinium. Irish folk song and one or two knock-knock jokes had completed the act and, to Ian's immense relief, Thalius had been extremely taken with the young scribe from Londinium.

These were people, Ian mused, who had never heard Carmina Burana, Carmina Burana, or Faure's or Faure's Requiem, Requiem, or or Bolero... Bolero... Or 'Brand New Cadillac' for that matter. Who had never been exposed to Sh.e.l.ley, Byron or Tennyson. Who had never seen Or 'Brand New Cadillac' for that matter. Who had never been exposed to Sh.e.l.ley, Byron or Tennyson. Who had never seen The The Morecambe and Wise Show. Morecambe and Wise Show.

He had a whole lifetime of important things to teach the praefectus praefectus of Byzantium and his minions. of Byzantium and his minions.

'He wants to give you something,' Gemellus added. 'I do not know what it is, he would not tell me.'

I hope it's different to what his wife wants to give me,' Ian added, cynically.

The praefectus praefectus was reading from a lengthy scroll when Ian and Gemellus entered his atrium. For several seconds he was, seemingly, too engrossed in its contents to look up and acknowledge their presence. Then he paused, rolled up the scroll and handed it to the young legionnaire standing beside him. 'Tell the general...' T h e r e wa s a l o n g p a u s e b e f o r e h e c o n c l u d e d , ' t h e r e is no message. Just thank the general for his most perceptive comments.' was reading from a lengthy scroll when Ian and Gemellus entered his atrium. For several seconds he was, seemingly, too engrossed in its contents to look up and acknowledge their presence. Then he paused, rolled up the scroll and handed it to the young legionnaire standing beside him. 'Tell the general...' T h e r e wa s a l o n g p a u s e b e f o r e h e c o n c l u d e d , ' t h e r e is no message. Just thank the general for his most perceptive comments.'

The soldier clicked his heels together and said 'Hail!' which reminded Ian of exactly how much n.a.z.i Germany owed to the Roman Reich. Thalius, meanwhile, with his other business concluded, wore a beaming smile and was ushering Gemellus and Ian in to join him.

'My good and dear friends,' he said convivially.

'Gemellus, I am pleased to see that you have brought our cousin from Britannia to us once again. May the G.o.ds look kindly upon you, Ian Chesterton.'

Ian nodded as he and Gemellus sat besides the praefectus praefectus. Thalius clapped his hands together and Drusus swept majestically into the room as if attached to the praefectus's praefectus's throne by a piece of elastic. 'Bring wine, Drusus,' throne by a piece of elastic. 'Bring wine, Drusus,'

Thalius announced grandly. 'Our guest must think us impolite savages.'

'Nothing could be further from the truth,' Ian quickly countered. 'The hospitality I have received from everyone within this household has been... pretty unique.'

Thalius seemed pleased to hear this. 'One always worries that cultural differences may lead to mistakes being made,' he said. 'My motives for seeing you, however, are slightly ulterior. I have something which I should like you to have.'

The praefectus praefectus reached down beside his opulent silver-trimmed throne and produced one of the short stabbing swords, the reached down beside his opulent silver-trimmed throne and produced one of the short stabbing swords, the gladii gladii, carried by Roman legionnaires and centurions. He held it up to the light and looked along its razor-sharp cutting blade like a craftsman inspecting his finest tool. 'The gladius gladius,' he said proudly. 'This is the weapon of an artist. I am no soldier, though I suspect you are, or have been at one time in your life.'

'I was trained as a fighter, it's true,' Ian agreed, wondering whether six months spent whitewas.h.i.+ng doorsteps at RAF Lynham truly counted as such. 'I studied some oriental disciplines; karate, ju jitsu and unagi.'

'Then you will know that military might depends upon possessing the weapons of power. I am a historian and I know that the a.s.syrian king, Shalmaneser II, boasted that he could raise an army of 120,000 men and charioteers. These men wore coats of iron scales and chain-mail and carried nine-foot-long spears that could stop an enemy dead at fifty paces. But their weakness was in the wicker s.h.i.+elds that they used with which to defend themselves.'

'Most s.h.i.+elds are pathetic and useless against the might of a sword,' Gemellus added. 'Particularly small and weak ones.