Doctor Who: The Legends of Ashildr

by Justin Richards

  It was not long before Karim found a tavern on the edge of the market that was cool in the heat of the day. The food was rich, and the local wine even richer, but Karim remembered his promise to Ash El Dir, and only took a glass of it before heading home.

  One day, an old man came up to him, wise of looks and bearing, and he complimented Karim on his manners and appearance. ‘Sir, you are far superior to the normal merchant,’ he greeted him.

  Karim laughed, and began to tell him that he was not born a tradesman, then remembered his promise to Ash and left.

  The next day, the same old man came up to him in the tavern again. This time he complimented him on his cloth. ‘For a weaver, you have a grasp of patterns that is almost unique. Why, I’ve only seen the like on tabards worn by trading Norsemen.’

  Karim expressed his surprise at this, and began to explain that he did not weave the patterns himself, and then he remembered his promise to Ash, and hurried home to her.

  The third day, the old man came over to him again. ‘My friend,’ he said, ‘I have brought you another cup of wine.’ At first Karim refused, but the old man insisted. ‘This is a very rare and expensive wine, and I would be most upset if it were to go to waste.’

  Reluctantly, Karim reached out for it, and, in truth, it was excellent – both cold and yet fiery. ‘I have not even drunk wine like this in my father’s palace,’ he told the old man, who appeared not to notice.

  The two drank their wine, and then the old man pressed him to have another. ‘For truly you are an excellent companion,’ the old man said. ‘Both regal and talented.’

  They drank and talked long and late, until Karim remembered the time and vowed to return home. Somewhat unsteady of foot and mind, he allowed the old man to carry him there. At the last minute, he remembered his promise to Ash, and dismissed the old man hurriedly at his gate. He headed in, and the clever serving girl was much worried by his condition, but he shouted at her until she remembered her place and went back to her weaving.

  The next day, Karim went to the market late, and was relieved not to find the old man in the tavern. Once he had eaten a simple lunch, he went home to the loyal serving girl, meaning to apologise to her. But he found her gone, the house empty. He knew then that, through his own foolishness, he had lost both his happiness and his love.

  After much lamentation and incomprehension, he searched the house and found a note concealed in her pillow. ‘Oh Karim, heart and life, when you came home last night, I knew that you had fallen into the hands of deceivers. I have noticed the amount that you come home with falling every day, and I had hoped that you had remembered your promises to me. But I saw the old man lurking outside last night, and I saw him again this morning. He can be nothing but an agent of the Wizard of Marabia. Do not blame yourself for what you have done, for you are simply a man, although I know that you will blame yourself, also because you are a man. If you find this note, both I and the amulet will have been taken to the Wizard. I have kept back and hidden some money at the bottom of this pillowcase, and I hope that you will use it either to make your way home or to come and find me – whichever way your heart leads you.’

  When Karim read this he fell fully into despair and lamentation and wished he was dead. For he had lost all he valued, and had simply an empty house. He knew now how much he loved the serving girl Ash El Dir, and how much he wished to be reunited with her. But beyond the town was desert. How was he to find her?

  And so paused the telling of the Lady Sherade.

  THE FINDING OF THE KING

  Delighted by what he had heard, the mighty King let Sherade live to continue the story.

  ‘Will there be a happy ending? Will the lovers be reunited? Will the Prince learn the error of his ways? And what of the Wizard of Marabia?’

  ‘All will be explained, my husband,’ the Lady Sherade assured him. ‘For many days and many nights, Prince Karim wandered the empty lands looking for his lost love, the clever servant girl Ash El Dir…’

  Eventually, he came to a fabulous city of shining marble overlooking a harbour of the deepest blue. Most places he had travelled through he had been treated most unlike a prince. He had been turned from the walls and had dirt thrown at him, but here he received true hospitality.

  One of the Vizier’s servants bade him enter a courtyard, and offered him a new set of clothes in return for his old ones. But Karim refused. ‘These clothes, poor though they now are, were made for me by my one true love. I have lost her, and these are all I have of her.’

  The Vizier’s man said he understood and asked for them again, promising to do what could be done to wash and mend them. Not trusting him, and full of sorrow for the state he was in, Karim refused. The man nodded, and told him to sit at the back of the courtyard, in the shadows.

  In the centre of the courtyard was a big fountain, flowing with clear water, and cups were handed out to several hundred travellers, all dressed in clean white linen. Great bowls of rice were brought out for them, along with meat and fruit. There was plenty to go round at this feast of beggars.

  Karim hung back, and a maid brought over a tin bowl of water and a thin plate of rice, and Karim ate it in the shadows of the courtyard, like a low dog. He no longer resented the loss of his palace, or wished to return to the splendours of Baghdad. He simply embraced his lowly position as all that he deserved. Indeed, starving though he was, he did not eat all of his food. While the other supplicants cleared their plates, he ate but half and then asked if there was someone more deserving of his portion.

  With a trumpet and cheering, the King of the City of Marble appeared on a platform. He was very young and very handsome, and he surveyed the supplicants with kind eyes. All of them muttered a grateful obeisance.

  The Vizier announced, ‘It is His Majesty’s pleasure to see that he has fed the wandering poor. He feeds those without food, he clothes those who need to cover their backs. He wishes no man to wander the desert without protection.’

  The crowd nodded and cheered.

  The Vizier continued: ‘And sometimes, our Great King singles out some for preferment if they be especially deserving.’

  The crowd cheered more and sat up straight, running their hands through their hair to make the most of themselves.

  The silent, handsome young King surveyed the crowd and then stopped. ‘There is one here I like,’ he said.

  The supplicants looked from one to the other, curious, eager and sly. Each knew in his heart of hearts that it was him.

  The King pointed. ‘What’s he that sits in the shadows like a chastened dog? Bring him forward.’

  The Vizier’s guards dragged Karim through the crowd, who looked at him and marvelled. What had he done to deserve such favour? He had not even changed out of his rags.

  ‘Who are you, stranger? Speak,’ the King commanded.

  Karim spoke low, not looking the King in the eyes. ‘I am not deserving of your notice. I have lost all that I hold dear.’

  ‘All that you hold dear? Were you once rich? Were you once powerful?’

  ‘Aye, I was all that. But that matters not. I lost all that I loved because I did not heed her advice.’

  ‘I see,’ the King said. ‘It is easily done,’ he laughed, and his courtiers laughed with him, and nudged each other.

  ‘Why do you single me out, your majesty? I have fed, and I am grateful. Please, let me slink back into my shadows.’

  ‘I have singled you out…’ The King paused. ‘Because you are thinner than the rest.’ He smiled. In truth, a lot of the supplicants were not begging travellers, but lived happily in the city and came here for a free meal. The King turned to his Vizier. ‘Take this man to my chambers. I shall visit him later. Once you have bathed him.’

  Karim was dragged away, protesting. He heard the King’s high laugh and the muttering of the other supplicants.

  Prince Karim was taken to sumptuous rooms that smelt of lemon. A host of handsome young men came for him. A bath was drawn for him, ful
l of unguents. His clothes were wrested from him, and washed where he could see them, and then, after he had been shaved, he allowed himself to be lowered into the hot waters of the bath.

  He looked around, at the many handsome youths, and he felt a fear gather inside him for the nature of the gift that the King intended to bestow on him. He felt worried, but the bath was hot, and he fell fast asleep.

  When he woke up the water had gone, and he was lying down on a bed. There came a laugh from behind him, and he realised he was naked. He looked around for his clothes, but could not see them.

  ‘Oh, fool that I was to be parted from them!’ he wailed.

  ‘Fool that you were,’ laughed the King’s voice. ‘No, don’t turn around. I wish to see you like this.’

  ‘Oh, your majesty, I would not have you see me like this.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ the King laughed, coming closer. ‘I would see more of you exactly like this.’

  ‘There is some mistake,’ protested Karim. ‘My heart belongs to another.’

  ‘But your body now belongs to me,’ the King said. He laughed again, and something landed on the bed. Karim looked at it. They were his clothes, washed, dried and marvellously mended. He stared at them.

  ‘If they were so precious to you, why did you let them be taken from you?’ asked the King.

  Karim had no answer. He beheld his clothes, and he wept.

  ‘Would you still look at those rags?’ asked the King. ‘Or would you look at me? I who have fed you, bathed you, shown you kindness, and intend to do much for you?’

  Reluctantly, Prince Karim turned away from the garments, and instead faced the King.

  The King was smiling, his handsome face dancing, as first he took off his crown, then he laid aside his cape, and finally, he took off his beard.

  Prince Karim was amazed.

  Standing laughing at him was Ash El Dir.

  The lovers were reunited, and in their rejoicing there was no pain, no guilt, no sorrow. Ash El Dir told Karim that, realising the agents of the Wizard had found them, there was nothing to do.

  ‘While you used your savings from my earnings on pleasant things—’

  ‘That’s unfair.’

  ‘Is it? I am King here. Think carefully…’

  ‘It was fair. Tell me.’

  ‘As long as we held the amulet, they would know the region in which we were. It was only a matter of time,’ she told him…

  THE HIDING OF THE AMULET

  And so Ash El Dir told him of how, as long as she and Prince Karim had the amulet, it was only a matter of time before the Wizard of Marabia found them…

  I used what I had to pay for our rent, to feed us, and to buy materials. With many of them I wove, but I also bought sheets of lead and paid a casket-maker to fashion two caskets, one to fit in the other. This I concealed the amulet in. For I remembered the Wizard had only been able to sense the amulet when I had fetched it from the crater. So, it needed to be hidden from the air. Alas, the caskets were hardly finished before you betrayed us to the agents of the Wizard. I tried to flee, but the old man caught me, and dragged me out into the desert, away from all I loved. We travelled on for forty days and nights, the old man never speaking, just pulling me on until his mules died, then we walked, walked into the sands.

  Finally the old man spoke to me. And this is what he said: ‘This body has been given to the Wizard of Marabia, last and truest ruler of the Nile. This body has been given to him entirely and now it is empty. More hosts are coming and they will find you. They are very close. Do not think to run, for now it is time for you to carry my master’s spirit for a while.’ So saying, the light went out of the old man’s eyes and he died, becoming the dust as he fell into it.

  All was peace, and then I felt something looking through my eyes – a shadow as dark and old as the night sky. I could feel its hunger as it prowled my head like a ravenous dog. For a moment, we were evenly matched and then it pounced. I have never felt more alone and more lost than at that instant, and then I did truly despair. But I woke up in the sand, my mouth dry, and an echo in my head. ‘There is no home for me here. But I shall find you.’

  I knew then that I had escaped. Looking onto the horizon, I could see dust kicked up by riders, and I knew I did not have long. I ran through the sands until they became the parched weeds of scrubland. A town was nearby, but the riders were closer. I covered myself in sand, burying the casket with me, and waited. The heat was unbearable, the sand as hot as the Sultan’s finest oven, but I waited until the riders had passed – I knew they would search the town. Tempting as it was to follow them, I skirted the town, eating weeds and drinking what water I could find, until I discovered a barn, and crept into a cart of straw. And then I slept the sleep of those who God has turned away from.

  When I awoke, I was bumping up and down. The cart was under way. I looked around.

  ‘So you’ve awoken?’

  It was an old farmer. She had found me and, realising me a fugitive or beggar, had taken me with her on her journey. She had fresh milk and cheese for me, and was kindness itself. She had lived alone for many years, and said she would value the company on the long journey to the Marble City. ‘The roads are not safe for women on their own, after all. Many are the devils and ruffians who may assault us,’ the old woman said and laughed.

  I told her my story and she listened with patience and kindness. ‘Then you will find welcome in the Marble City. The King there had three sons and they long ago went on a quest to find the fabled City of Brass. None returned, but he puts food out every day for the poor in case one of them is his son returning.’

  I left the old farmer and went to the palace where food was laid out. I had disguised myself as a man as best as I could, and, before I knew where life went, I had attracted the attention of a fine lady. She had me presented to her in her apartments, much as I summoned you. She was the King’s daughter. He had forbidden her to go on the quest for the City of Brass, and she had remained here.

  ‘Daughters do not get to go on quests,’ the Princess Zubaida lamented. ‘If they did, I am sure my brothers would not have been lost. And now, alas, my father is preparing to sit down with the Destroyer of Delights. When he departs, the kingdom will fall. Unless, that is, I marry.’ And the Princess smiled at me. ‘You have a bearing about you. Will you marry me?’

  I explained the truth of who I was, and she laughed. ‘That matters not a fig,’ she said. ‘All I want is someone who can counterfeit being a lost prince.’

  And so I was presented to the King as the questing Prince Karim, son of the Caliph Haroun al-Raschid of Baghdad. No, don’t interrupt, my love, for this is my story.

  The King and the Vizier examined me in many matters of philosophy and mathematics, science and literature, and I was able to satisfy all of them.

  ‘Truly,’ the Old King said to Princess Zubaida, ‘this is a prince wise far beyond his years. You have chosen wisely.’ And so saying, he kissed her cheeks and went out onto the terrace to look at his kingdom while he awaited the arrival of the Destroyer of Delights.

  Queen Zubaida and I have reigned ever since. I have continued the tradition of the greeting of travelling strangers in the hopes that one day you would be, by the kindness of God, returned to me. And the Queen has devoted herself to statehood with all the brilliance of her father, mixed with the kindness and infinite patience that only a sister of brothers can have.

  And now, my love, you are here, so the time has come to resume our quest. For a long time have I searched for the City of Brass, and these people have many maps and charts. Many have set out there from here. But none have returned…

  ‘You cannot stop there!’ protested the King, as the Lady Sherade paused in her story.

  ‘I was worried, my husband, that I was fatiguing you. After all, the hour is late, and the leisure of a mighty King is precious.’

  The King begged her to continue.

  THE CITY OF BRASS

  ‘Long and hard did
Ash El Dir and Prince Karim seek for the City of Brass,’ continued the Lady Sherade. ‘The maps of the Marble Kingdom were good, but the way was perilous…’

  In truth they lost many of their retinue, many noble knights simply turning back to the city. This in many ways suited the Ash El Dir and Prince Karim. ‘The City of Brass is only for the bravest and the truest,’ said Ash El Dir.

  ‘But what is it? And how does the amulet help?’

  ‘That I do not entirely know,’ admitted Ash El Dir. ‘The world is strange and no man can know all. And yet without the amulet no one can be admitted to the City of Brass. And without entering the City of Brass, no one can know what is inside it.’

  ‘I have heard the knights talk of great riches,’ said Prince Karim, and he spurred his horse on.

  ‘Riches are not all, my prince,’ laughed Ash El Dir.

  They passed at length a temple, with a flame forever burning from the centre of the earth. An inscription was carved at the gateway to the flame: ‘This burns for the memory of the 750 gods who fell. This burns for the memory of those several thousand who sought the City of Brass and perished.’ At this sight, many of the remaining knights turned back.

  Ash and Karim and a bare handful of knights continued on, crossing the wastes between Araby and Egypt. Lying in their way was a vast stone creature, part lion and part woman.

  ‘I fought in the great battle of the gods, and I was on the losing side. It is now my punishment to wait for travellers such as you,’ the Sphinx said. ‘I offer a last warning to all those who seek the City of Brass. Be prepared to lose all that you hold dear. Many thousand thousand have lost their lives.’

  ‘I do not fear to lose my life,’ said Ash El Dir, and the Sphinx laughed.

  ‘Then what else have you to lose?’

  At that, three more of the party set on their sad way home. Two men only stayed with them, talking all the way of the pleasures that lay ahead of them in the red lands between Araby and Thebes.