by Doctor Who
‘Well, for a start we can achieve death. . . ’ began Paul. ‘Yeah, yeah, all right, it’s worth a go.’
‘Right!’ called a voice as someone rattled the dungeon door.
A torch was pushed up to the bars, faintly illuminating the faces of the Doctor’s four friends: bearded John, burly Paul, sad-eyed George and skinny Ringo. It also lit up the sneering face of Thermus, who was holding it. But his next words came as a surprise.
‘Where’s the bloke who kept on about being here illegally?’
The Doctor stood up and moved forward. ‘Yes?’ he said curtly.
‘What do you want?’
He could just make out Thermus raising his eyebrows. ‘There now, is that any way to talk to someone who’s come to let you out?’
‘Wouldn’t have said it was, Thermus,’ said Flaccus, standing beside him, holding the dungeon key. ‘I’d have said that was more the way of an ungrateful wretch who doesn’t appreciate all we’ve been doing for him.’
‘What?’ said the Doctor.
‘You must have influential friends, sir,’ continued Thermus, as the key was turned in the lock. ‘We’ve been told it’s all a big mistake and you’re to be set free. I believe Rufus intends to apologise to you personally.’
Gracilis! thought the Doctor. He knew people in Rome, he must have arranged things. He felt a surge of gratitude towards the old man.
‘Right. Well, good. I’ll just have a few words with my friends –’
‘No time for that, sir,’ Flaccus told him. ‘More than our job’s worth to keep a man like you here with all of these criminals.’ Thermus took hold of the Doctor’s arm and escorted him firmly, if rather more respectfully than before, out of the cell.
74
‘Remember what I said!’ the Doctor called back over his shoulder.
‘Work together!’
The two guards led him through the dingy corridors. They passed an alcove in which stood a table with several flasks of wine and a few dice on it, obviously the guards’ personal space. There was something else on the table too – a small cloth bag. The Doctor darted over and grabbed it.
‘Mine, I think,’ he said.
Thermus shrugged. The Doctor could tell by feel that they’d taken most of the coins he’d carried in it, but he wasn’t going to start a fight over that. They’d left the sonic screwdriver, that was the main thing –he wondered what on earth they’d made of it.
They weren’t retracing their steps from the night before; the Doctor was being led in a different direction now. The noise from the arena was getting louder and he thought with a pang of guilt about the men he’d just left behind. Despite his encouraging words to them, he knew it was unlikely that any of them would ever see their families again.
‘Who arranged this?’ he asked the guards. ‘Was it Gracilis?’
‘Gracilis?’ said Thermus. ‘Yes, I believe that was the name, wasn’t it, Flaccus?’
‘I think it was indeed,’ said his colleague. ‘He’s been a good friend to you, that Gracilis.’
‘He has,’ said the Doctor.
‘In fact, I think he’s waiting just outside to meet you. Just up here, sir.’ Flaccus indicated a ramp. There was a door at the top.
The three of them walked up the ramp. Thermus opened the door
– and, in an unpleasant echo of the night before, the Doctor found himself suddenly shoved through. As the door slammed behind him, he heard gales of laughter coming from the two guards.
Gracilis was ‘not waiting to greet him.
No one was waiting to greet him – unless you counted the tens of thousands of cheering Roman citizens.
The Doctor was inside the arena.
∗ ∗ ∗
75
The arena was huge, bigger than a football pitch. The floor was covered with fine white sand – to soak up the expected blood. Four tiers of seating held shouting Romans, a marble wall topped with a fence protecting the nearest spectators from the events occurring in front of them. The Doctor spotted the satisfied face of Lucius Aelius Rufus in the bottom row of seating.
The Time Lord’s eyes flickered around the arena, searching for something – anything – that he could use to help himself. He could wield a sword with the best of them – but he had no sword. No weapon of any kind. Trees had been fixed in the arena floor and he ran over to one, not that he expected it would provide much protection from whatever he had to face.
There was a scream of delight from the crowd. A trapdoor had slammed open at the edge of the arena, followed by another and another. Slowly, reluctantly, animals were forced through the gaps.
Lions, tigers, bears.
‘Oh my!’ said the Doctor, as the trapdoors slammed shut again.
The animals looked skinny and lethargic, half starved. They didn’t want to attack, not yet. But the Doctor knew it wouldn’t be long.
There was still a scent of blood in the arena from the earlier mass slaughter, and it would make them look at him in a whole new way in a minute. And if there was any further reluctance, George had told him how the trainers – bestiarii – would soon be at hand with encouragement in the form of fire and weapons and raw meat.
The Doctor gave a bow to the crowd. They liked that and applauded. He turned to face Rufus. ‘Nos morituri te salutamus,’ he called, although the salute he gave was probably not one the magistrate recognised. Nevertheless, the crowd applauded that too.
A lion was prowling closer, an old male whose once-magnificent mane now looked patchy and dull.
‘You look tired,’ the Doctor said softly to it. ‘What life is this for you, the king of the jungle?’ A thought struck him. ‘I think what you really need is a sleep.’ He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. A few twists and he pointed it at the approaching lion, which was now growling at him, deep in its throat.
76
He knew he shouldn’t really use the sonic screwdriver, not in front of thousands upon thousands of primitive humans. But he was going to do it anyway. Not so much because he had to save himself, but because he still had to save Rose. And no one was going to stop him doing that.
There was a faint hum from the sonic screwdriver, but only the Doctor knew that it was producing another pitch too, a wave of sound in-audible to the human ear but which the lion would definitely pick up.
And sure enough, the lion turned tail and slunk away. A few moments later it lay down on the ground, an elderly cat by the fireside.
There were cheers and jeers from the crowd – a few cheers at this strange man seeing off a lion with what looked like a tiny stick, but mainly jeers from those cheated of blood.
‘Come on!’ the Doctor called out to the audience. ‘Did you really want it over so soon? Isn’t the anticipation half the pleasure?’
Now a huge black bear was lumbering towards him.
‘Hard to believe,’ the Doctor told the bear, ‘that teddy bears are so cute and you’re so. . . not. No offence.’
He raised the sonic screwdriver again – but the bear did not stop.
‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. ‘Make a note. Bears need a different frequency.’
The bear was getting faster now, obviously sensing prey. The Doctor leapt to the nearby tree and began to climb, nearing the top as the bear reached it.
The bear stood on its hind legs and gripped the tree, shaking it.
‘Note two,’ said the Doctor. ‘Bears are not put off by trees.’
He knew that if he jumped, the bear would be on him in a moment.
Holding tightly on to the tree with one hand, he tried to adjust the settings on the sonic screwdriver with the other – but the bear gave the tree a massive shake and the device tumbled to the ground. And now the bear was beginning to climb the tree. It wasn’t a big tree, probably wouldn’t take its weight for long, but whether the bear caught him up high or when the tree collapsed wouldn’t make all that much difference to the Doctor.
Slowly, carefully, he edged round
the tree till he was directly above the bear. The creature flailed an angry paw upwards, still just out of 77
reach. But any second now it would be there. . .
The Doctor jumped. Not on to the ground – but on to the bear’s back. Startled, it dropped back to the ground, on all fours, and tried to shake him off. The Doctor held firm. The bear reared up on to its hind legs, roaring in agitation.
‘Steady on, Ted,’ the Doctor said. ‘It’s not easy being a “bear”-back rider, you know.’
The crowd loved this. It wasn’t as good as a kill, but it tickled their fancy anyway, the slim young man treating this fierce creature as if it was a donkey or a mule.
The bear slammed back on to all four paws again. The Doctor tensed, wondering what its next move would be. Suddenly it swayed, ready to roll over and rub the irritation from its back. What to do? If he held on he’d be crushed, but if he let go the bear would be on him in a second. . .
The bear began to fall – and the Doctor spotted a gleam on the ground, out of the corner of his eye. He rolled with the creature, diving off at the very last moment and grabbing at the gleam. He rose with the sonic screwdriver in his hand, and as the bear righted itself and prepared to spring, he thrust it forward. . .
And the bear stopped. It gave a whine and began to back off, staring at the Doctor with hatred.
‘Sorry,’ the Doctor murmured.
But the crowd didn’t like this. Two animals defeated and not a drop of blood spilt. If they couldn’t have the Doctor’s blood they’d settle for that of the beasts, but they weren’t getting either.
Those in charge obviously sensed the mood of the crowd, knew that something had to happen soon. A door opened and two bestiarii came into the arena. One wielded a flaming torch, while the other held a trident as tall as he was, which he lowered down to point in front of him. They approached a lurking tiger with the confidence of those who were armed and thus had the upper hand. One man flushed out the striped beast with the flames and the other used the trident’s points to poke and prod it in the Doctor’s direction.
The Doctor didn’t stay in one place, of course. The bestiarii were 78
soon darting this way and that, trying to keep the animal on track.
Although the Doctor was fairly confident he could keep this up all day, he suspected he wouldn’t be allowed to do so. Better to get it over with. He stopped still and leaned casually against the marble wall.
‘Come on, then!’ he called to the approaching men, who grinned at the idea that they’d worn down their quarry at last.
‘Having a good day?’ the Doctor called up to the nearest seats, getting a cheer in response – except from the nearby Rufus, who scowled down at him. ‘Hey, give us a smile!’ the Doctor shouted to him. ‘You should be happy – you’ve provided the crowd with the best show in ages, if I do say so myself.’
But Rufus kept scowling. And meanwhile the tiger was getting nearer, growling half at its tormentors and half at the Doctor.
The Doctor suddenly sprang into action, taking everyone by surprise, including the tiger. He dived over the beast’s head, hands forward as if it were a vaulting horse. With a flip, he was standing at the creature’s tail, arms in the air to mark a perfect landing. The torch-bearer was nearest and the Doctor grabbed the flaming brand from the shocked man, using it to knock the trident out of the other’s grip. ‘Don’t try this at home, folks!’ he yelled to the crowd, as the bestiarii stood stock still in stunned silence, unable to believe the way the tables had been turned. They remained like that for only a second, however. The Doctor was on the move again and they turned to follow.
But the tiger turned too. These men were the nearest – and they were the ones who had been taunting it, causing it pain. . .
The crowd was, temporarily, satisfied.
But the Doctor knew they’d soon be baying for his blood again. He could dodge and he could fight, but they would just keep sending more and more things at him, animals and men. He had to get out of there.
But no-one had ever escaped from the arena.
79
Suddenly doors on the opposite side of the arena began to open.
Someone had obviously decided on a change of tactics. Men were dragged through the doors, dozens of them forced at sword point.
Voices called out to the Doctor and he recognised John, Paul, George and Ringo. Acquaintances of only a few hours, they seemed as close to him as brothers right now.
Stakes were standing around the arena and it was to these that the men were dragged, before having their arms lashed to the upright posts. The Doctor watched in horror as one bestiarius ran on with a heaped basket of raw meat, bits of which he flung at the feet of the bound men. There was no mistaking the message. The Doctor was putting up too much of a fight – the crowd needed guaranteed slaughter.
No sooner had the bestiarii retreated than the Doctor sped towards the men. Little Ringo was the closest and the Doctor freed him with a few slashes of the trident point. He handed the man the burning torch to protect himself, then ran off to the next stake. To his surprise
– and delight – he saw Ringo heading over to another man. He used the torch to set light to the ropes – the flames obviously caused the 81
man pain, but soon he was free.
The Doctor cut the ropes of the next prisoner. He pointed over to another stake, where Paul was tethered. ‘Try to untie him,’ the Doctor instructed.
Shaking, the man hurried off and began to comply.
The crowd screamed its disapproval. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
More trapdoors opened. Half a dozen leopards leapt through. It took them a moment to get the scent, but then they were speeding towards the condemned men. The Doctor yelled for everyone to stand their ground, but a couple of the prisoners, too terrified to listen, made a bolt for it. The movement attracted the wild cats and once more the crowd had something to cheer about.
The remaining men gathered in a group, Ringo at the front frantically waving the torch to and fro. The group surged from one stake to another, the Doctor freeing each prisoner as others grabbed the chunks of raw meat, flinging them at the leopards to distract their attention.
The last man the Doctor reached was George. He was a rough-looking, dark-skinned man of about forty, but at the moment his face shone like an angel’s. ‘Is this really happening?’ he said. ‘Or have I died already?’
The Doctor grinned. ‘Cooperation,’ he said. ‘Beautiful word. We’re gonna make it out of here, you know.’
‘I’m not asking for a miracle,’ George told him.
‘Just as well,’ said the Doctor. ‘Those who ask don’t get, or so they say. But I reckon a miracle might just be on its way.’
The instant George was free, the Doctor raised a shout. ‘To the wall!’
He led the group in a charge towards the arena’s perimeter. A nearby door burst open and armed men appeared, the stumbling, sweaty forms of gaolers Flaccus and Thermus at the back. The prisoners, however, were too full of adrenalin to stop. The stunned guards suddenly found themselves falling beneath an onslaught of torch, trident, fists and just plain rage. By the time the fight was over, a num-82
ber of the condemned men lay dead – but many others now wielded swords and stood over the bodies of their one-time captors.
Flaccus and Thermus had held back during the fight, waving their swords ineffectually. It was Paul who spotted them and alerted the others. The two guards backed away as the furious men turned on them.
‘We were only following orders!’ yelped Thermus. ‘We did our best for you – don’t you remember?’ said Flaccus, gulping. ‘Treated you like our own sons!’
‘Treated us like scum, more like!’ yelled Paul, brandishing a liberated sword in the air.
Flaccus and Thermus turned and fled.
And tripped right over the lion the Doctor had put to sleep earlier.
The lion woke up.
As the guards’ screams died
away, the Doctor’s men made it to the wall at last. Those slain in the fight were acting as a diversion for the marauding beasts, but everyone was uncomfortably aware that their attention might be recaptured at any moment.
‘What now?’ gasped George, staring up at the marble wall. Even if they could climb it – which they couldn’t – the fence on top of it would stop them going any further.
The Doctor looked up too. Not far above him he could see the furious face of Rufus, still cheated of the Doctor’s blood. Next to Rufus, to the Doctor’s absolute delight, he saw Gracilis, pulling at the magistrate’s cloak. He grinned. The triumph of the little man, that’s what all this was about.
He looked at the fence above him. Then he looked at the long trident he carried. Then he looked up again. He began to back away from the wall.
He grinned at his comrades. ‘I’ve always fancied myself as an ath-lete,’ he said. ‘Now’s the time to find out if the pole-vault’s the event for me. . . ’
He ran forward, plunging the trident into the ground and using it to launch himself into the air. The crowd gasped. No one could do 83
this. He was going to impale himself on the fence spikes. . .
But he didn’t. The Doctor let out a laugh of joy as he cleared the top and landed in a heap on top of two startled senators. ‘Olympics, here I come!’ Still laughing, he scrambled to his feet. ‘Chuck us a sword,’
he yelled down.
A blade came shooting into the air as George obliged. The Doctor caught it as it tumbled down his side of the fence.
‘Now, we don’t want any trouble,’ he said, addressing the surrounding senators. ‘And I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I will if I have to.
So it’s in all your interests to do as I say. You,’ he said, turning on the nearest man, ‘give me your toga.’
The man hastily obliged, ripping off the purple-striped garment and handing it over.
‘You too,’ said the Doctor, and the next man also complied.