Doctor Who BBC N07 - The Stone Rose

by Doctor Who

The Doctor tied the long strips of cloth together and dangled the resulting rope over the side to Paul, who caught it and began to scale the arena’s side.

  Armed guards were beginning to appear in the stands, but the crowd was so thick they couldn’t get close enough. Soon several prisoners armed with swords had crossed into the seating area and were holding everyone else at bay.

  A shriek came from down below. The leopards had tired of their unmoving feast and were closing in on the living prey. Ringo was still waving his fire brand and George had the trident, but the cats seemed to regard their efforts as a challenge.

  ‘Hold on,’ called the Doctor, fumbling for his sonic screwdriver. ‘I need to find another frequency. . . ’

  The Doctor’s distraction nearly caused his death. ‘Look out!’ a voice suddenly cried. Gracilis!

  The Doctor swung round. A dozen seats away, Gracilis was stumbling from a blow as Rufus raised a bow to fire. His fingers loosened on the string. . .

  . . . and the Doctor raised the sonic screwdriver, spinning it like a tiny propeller. The arrow zinged off and rattled harmlessly to the floor.

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  Rufus yelled in rage and sprang forward, trying for a better aim. A couple of the armed prisoners started forward towards him, but the Doctor yelled at them to stop – too many innocent people were in the way.

  There was a cry from the stadium floor. A leopard had got through the defences and claimed a victim.

  ‘Keep climbing!’ the Doctor shouted urgently.

  But that gave Rufus an idea.

  Grinning evilly, he leapt for the

  fence. Now his arrow pointed downwards – straight at John, who was halfway up the hanging togas. He moved to fire – but the shot never came. George’s trident buried itself in the magistrate’s chest and Rufus toppled into the arena. The leopard that had been about to spring on George turned its attention to this new delight.

  The crowd were screaming and shrieking: horror, delight, fear.

  Gracilis had got to his feet and was stumbling in the direction of the Doctor, but the milling multitudes wouldn’t let him through.

  ‘See you outside!’ the Doctor called, gesturing for the old man to change course.

  He turned back to the wall. Now George was climbing the rope.

  Ringo was last, flinging his torch at a prowling leopard as it darted towards him. As soon as Ringo’s feet touched the floor, the Doctor was leading the way to the nearest exit. They weren’t the only ones.

  Everyone nearby wanted to get out now, and that was still stopping the armed men from reaching the prisoners.

  The Doctor waved a sword menacingly. ‘Out! Out! Out!’ he yelled.

  Suddenly George was by his side. He looked shaken. ‘I killed a magistrate,’ he gasped. ‘They were gonna kill me anyway – they’ll show no mercy now.’

  The Doctor gave him a reassuring smile. ‘You saved a life,’ he said simply. ‘Now leg it – get out of here, get as far away as possible. Make good pies. And live.’

  George gave him a nervous half-smile – and ran.

  As the Doctor watched him go, he reflected that he didn’t even know the man’s real name.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

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  There was chaos on the streets outside. Luckily many of those outside had not been in the arena and were desperately trying to get details of what had happened from those who were leaving. The other lucky thing was that, because the arena was so enormous, few knew what the escaped men looked like close up.

  The Doctor ducked and weaved through the crowds, throwing out an occasional ‘How amazing was that?’ to passers-by, or an, ‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Finally he spotted Gracilis among the masses and hurried towards him.

  ‘Gracilis!’

  The old man spun round eagerly. ‘Doctor!’

  They greeted each other warmly. Gracilis seemed almost in tears.

  ‘I thought you were lost! First my son and then my friend. I have been trying to secure your release from your most unlawful punishment. I visited my contacts and tried to call in favours, but none will go against Rufus. So I followed the man to the arena, tried to reason with him, but he would not listen to me, and then – and then –’

  The Doctor cut him off. ‘Don’t let’s worry about that. It’s all over now. Well, almost. Look, could you lend me your cloak?’

  Unquestioningly, Gracilis unpinned his long cloak and handed it to the Doctor.

  ‘Disguise,’ the Doctor told him. Then he frowned. ‘You’d better keep away from me. I mean, they don’t know who I am and there’s no record of my arrest, but that might not stop them tracking me down.

  I don’t want you getting into trouble.’

  The old man drew himself up to his full height. ‘You have been helping me, Doctor, at great inconvenience to yourself. It is in many ways my fault that you are in this predicament at all. I will not desert a friend.’

  ‘Thanks,’ the Doctor said simply, but his warm smile said more.

  They jogged along the street, trying to get as quickly as possible to the shrine of Fortuna, where the Doctor had been given the cure for Rose

  – and had heard the mysterious voice. They couldn’t go as fast as he would have liked, for fear of attracting too much attention, but they 86

  made it at last, pushing their way through a crowd of schoolboys who were enjoying the holiday. The Doctor, realising he was still carrying a sword, handed it to a surprised youth, with instructions not to hurt anybody.

  Finally they made it. The Doctor entered the temple at a run, shocking a young man who was preparing to present an offering.

  ‘Hello?’ the Doctor called, ignoring the man’s presence. ‘Anybody there?’

  He went right up to the statue of ‘Fortuna, standing in its alcove at the back. He peered behind it, but there was no one there. Whoever it had been, had he really expected them to hang around for a whole day?

  ‘Hello?’ he tried again, but with less conviction.

  He turned away. One thing had gone – please let the other still be there. He retraced his steps from the day before. This was where he was standing when the armed men had grabbed him. This was where he’d been hit. This was where he’d dropped the phial. . .

  There was no phial there. He dropped to his hands and knees, searching frantically.

  ‘What is the matter, Doctor?’ asked Gracilis, concerned.

  ‘Someone – I mean, Fortuna gave me something she said would bring Rose back,’ said the Doctor. ‘And Optatus too.’

  Gracilis’s eyes shone. ‘Do you mean this?’ he asked, producing a glass phial of sparkling green liquid. ‘Will this return my son to me?’

  The Doctor jumped up, his face joyous. ‘That’s it!’ he cried. ‘Oh, thank you thank you thank you!’ He took the phial and kissed it, and only just stopped himself from kissing Gracilis too.

  ‘I found it on the floor here after your capture,’ Gracilis explained,

  ‘and I wondered if it might be something important.’

  ‘I think it just might be,’ said the Doctor. ‘I mean, would Fortuna lie to me?’

  He thought for a second, considering this seriously. It wasn’t as if the circumstances were unsuspicious. But he had a definite feeling he could trust the strange voice. In fact, it had almost sounded familiar. . .

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  ‘Come on. First thing is to find a statue by Ursus.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Gracilis. ‘If this potion can return my son to me. . . ’

  The Doctor wrinkled his nose. ‘Just trust me,’ he said. ‘We’re getting there. But we do need to find a statue first.’

  The young man with the offering had been watching all of this in some bemusement and with perhaps not a little concern. Suddenly he cleared his throat.

  ‘You are looking for a statue by the sculptor Ursus?’ he asked nervously.

  The Doctor spun round to face him. ‘Too right we are. You know of one?’

  The man nodded. ‘I believ
e a new statue by Ursus is being unveiled in the forum today.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘Yes! Gracilis, my old mate, it looks as if everything is coming up roses – no pun intended.’ He raised the phial.

  ‘One miracle cure. One statue of Rose being unveiled. Rescue Rose, rescue Optatus, rescue everyone else, home in time for tea. Well, tomorrow’s tea anyway. Or possibly breakfast the next day. Whatever, life is good!’

  Still beaming, he led the way out of the shrine, and the two of them headed off towards the forum.

  They entered by the magnificent Arch of Augustus, but the Doctor was in no mood to appreciate architecture. He scanned the hustle and bustle before him, the hundreds of people going about their daily business, meeting, shopping, orating – and the hundreds of statues, neither hustling nor bustling, that were watching them do it. Movement by a basilica, its walls already crowded with statues, caught his eye and he hurried over. A crowd had gathered there and he asked a woman what was happening.

  ‘New statue,’ she told him. ‘By that bloke Ursus, the one everybody’s talking about.’

  The Doctor spared a second to thank her and then began to push his way through the masses, with Gracilis not far behind.

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  ‘Ladies and gentleman,’ called a voice as the Doctor neared the front, ‘I give you – the god Mercury!’

  There was a cheer, but the Doctor did not join in. He could see the statue now. It was not Rose. It was the slave Tiro.

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  TheDoctor’sheartssankashegazedonthepetrifiedTiro. Gloomily, he called out to the man by the statue, ‘Excuse me – isn’t Ursus himself here to see his work take its place?’

  The man shrugged. ‘Nah. He’s not even in Rome. We had to send a cart to fetch this from some country villa where he’s staying.’

  ‘He’s not in Rome at all?’ persisted the Doctor. ‘You don’t know of any other new statues of his that are being unveiled or anything?

  Something a bit more feminine perhaps. More Fortuna-y.’

  ‘You can take my word for it,’ said the man. ‘Trust me, I’d know about it.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Gracilis as the Doctor turned away.

  ‘Back to the villa?’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘there’s work to do here first. Starting with this very statue. Don’t want to cause a panic, so we’d better wait till nightfall. . . ’ He looked up at the sun, checking its position. ‘Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t wait that long. Let’s start a panic. Oh – and let’s hope this does what I think it does, or there might be a lynching instead!’

  He turned back and hurried towards the statue, bounding on to a 91

  plinth to stand beside it. The people, who had begun to drift away, sensed there was more entertainment afoot and reversed their steps.

  If any of them recognised this sideburned showman as the arena es-capee from earlier, however, they held their tongues – and as the citizens of Rome were not well known for their taciturnity or benevo-lence, chances were good that he hadn’t been identified.

  The Doctor took a bow, careful not to fall off the plinth. ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he cried, in imitation of the earlier announcement. ‘I give you – the god Mercury!’ No one seemed disposed to cheer at this repetition, so he carried on. ‘As you know, this is a time of festivity.

  We have celebrated the divine Minerva, she of the shield and spear.

  Born fully grown and armoured out of the head of her father, believe it or not. Can’t tell me that didn’t hurt. Now we’re carrying on the celebrations for the just as divine and even more warlike Mars. And d’you know what? They’re really very grateful for your celebrations

  – not to mention your offerings and your getting very drunk in their names. And who better to bring their message of thanks to you than Mercury, messenger of the gods!’

  The Doctor surreptitiously brought out the phial and carefully removed the stopper. He let a tiny drop of the jade-coloured liquid fall on to the marble of the statue.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said again, ‘boys and girls, I give you Mercury!’

  For a moment, the crowd looked on in bemusement. One or two turned away.

  And then a woman screamed. And another. Where there had been white marble, there was now a blush of pink. It spread over the statue, the stone being eaten away by the stain of flesh. The painted lips became soft and pouting, the gilded eyes replaced by bright green orbs. Softly curled hair rippled and darkened and was caught by the breeze. Before the astonished crowd there now stood a living man, dressed in the winged hat and winged sandals of Mercury, holding up Mercury’s caduceus, his staff with two snakes entwined around it.

  To even the Doctor’s surprise, the stone snakes suddenly hissed, their scales turning yellow as they uncurled themselves from the staff and 92

  slithered away. That caused even more screaming from the crowd.

  ‘Tell them you bring them a message of peace and love,’ the Doctor hissed at the confused Tiro, grabbing him by the waist to stop him falling as he staggered forwards. ‘Trust me. Then we can get out of here.’

  Tiro, his bewildered eyes barely able to focus on the crowd in front of him, croaked out, ‘I bring you a message of peace and love.’

  The crowd went wild, shouting and screaming and cheering. The Doctor passed Tiro down to the stunned Gracilis, waiting below, and whispered, ‘Get him out of sight.’

  ‘Some entertainment for the festival!’ the Doctor called, trying to regain the crowd’s attention and allow Gracilis and Tiro to make their getaway. ‘And here’s a bit more!’ He produced a small bronze coin.

  ‘One as! Not worth much. But you wouldn’t want to lose it.’ He opened both his hands, palms flat. ‘And I’ve only gone and lost it!’ He pointed into the crowd. ‘You, madam, have you seen my as? I beg your pardon, sir, I didn’t quite catch that remark. You haven’t? Then what, madam, is it doing in your ear?’

  He produced the coin seemingly from the lady’s ear, to much delight. ‘Me next! Me! Me!’ called several children, who seemed more impressed with the Doctor’s parlour trick than with the spectacle of a marble statue coming to life. The Doctor obliged for a while until he considered he’d given Gracilis and Tiro enough time, then made his own escape, leaving behind a number of delighted children who were considering how to spend their bounty.

  He found the others lurking discreetly behind a pillar in a quiet street. Both looked rather shaken. ‘If I had not seen it with my own eyes. . . ’ Gracilis muttered.

  ‘Bit of a shock for you both,’ said the Doctor. ‘Might have made it easier if I’d explained earlier that Ursus is an. . . evil sorcerer who’s been going around turning people to stone for his own ends. There again, might not’ve. Anyway, we’ve got work to do.’

  He strode off again, leaving the stunned pair to follow in his wake.

  ‘You mean,’ said Gracilis, jogging to catch him up, ‘that Optatus. . . ’

  The full horror of the situation suddenly seemed to hit him and he 93

  would have fallen to the floor if Tiro hadn’t been on hand to catch him.

  The Doctor stopped. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think you’ve got the idea. I’m very sorry. But we’re going to bring him back, just as soon as we’ve done all the rest.’

  The remainder of the day was spent scouring Rome for all Ursus’s statues. Gracilis, as an art lover, knew the right people to talk to, so he was able not only to discover all the locations but also to ascer-tain that, as far as anyone knew, the sculptor’s statues were exhibited only in Rome itself. Other than Gracilis’s, no one knew of any private commissions outside the city walls.

  One by one, the statues were restored to their living states. Diana became a beautiful black woman holding a bow. The Doctor handed over Gracilis’s cloak to an embarrassed Venus. Twins Castor and Pol-lux hugged each other then the Doctor in delight and relief. Bewildered slave after bewildered slave stepped off their plinths, to be told that they h
ad ‘been under a spell’. To the Doctor’s relief, this inade-quate explanation seemed to satisfy them.

  ‘But who are all these people?’ Gracilis asked at one point.

  ‘I imagine,’ said the Doctor, ‘that they’re slaves bought by Ursus for this particular purpose.’

  Gracilis frowned. ‘Then they still belong to Ursus,’ he said. ‘We have no right to take them away.’

  The Doctor fixed Gracilis with a very hard stare. ‘True,’ he said. ‘In Roman law, a master may treat his slave how he likes. He can flog him, torture him, kill him, turn him into a novelty marble doorstop if he thinks it’s a good idea. And you’re a good Roman, I know that. But look me in the eye and tell me you think what Ursus has done here is OK.’

  Gracilis broke eye contact.

  ‘I think Rome may become a bit too hot for Ursus in the near future,’

  continued the Doctor. ‘Not counting what might happen when I catch up with him. I am, it’s true, known for my forgiving nature, but even so. . . ’ He raised a hand to stop Gracilis speaking. ‘I don’t want to hear 94

  what should happen to these slaves. I only want to hear what will happen. I think you’re a good man. So I think what’s going to happen is you’re going to make sure they’re all all right.’

  Beaten, Gracilis nodded.

  The Doctor slapped him on the back. ‘Good man!’

  Soon there was only a tiny amount of the glistening green potion left, and the Doctor guarded it as though it was the most precious thing in the universe. Right at the moment, it was.

  ‘I never thought I should see such magic,’ said Gracilis in awe, as the Doctor replaced the stopper once again, and sent Juno – and her bewildered peacock – to wait by Gracilis’s carriage outside the city gates, where the other slaves were congregating.

  ‘Not magic,’ said the Doctor, more to himself than to the old man.

  ‘Science.’ But he didn’t admit, even to himself, that he had no idea how science had created the miraculous liquid – or where it had come from.