Trojan Walls

by Carlisle Cooperative

Rose and Ten visit Asia Minor. It just so happens that they arrive during the beginning of a historic siege.

1. Chapter 1

Title – Trojan Walls, Chapter 1 of 2
Author – The Carlisle Cooperative
Rating – K+
Spoilers – Not if you've seen S1 or S2
Disclaimer – Alas, neither the Doctor nor Rose (nor even the TARDIS) belong to the Carlisle Cooperative. We write this story out of deep love and respect for the characters, especially as created by RTD, but recognize that they are the property of the BBC.
Summary – Rose and Ten visit Asia Minor. It just so happens that they arrive during the beginning of a historic siege.
Author's Notes – Two months ago, lj user"lunawho" posted a a href" http://community. on Time and Chips, asking for a Ten/Rose fic set during the Fall of Troy and involving the epics. We didn't exactly hit all of the requests, but we gave it a shot.

1"Move, woman!" A hand shoved her forward, propelling her further down the stone tunnel, torchlight flickering both in front of and behind her. The smell of sweaty bodies was oppressive, and the chaotic noise of battle could be felt as well as heard through the stones.

They emerged into a cool chamber, deep in the bowels of the fortress. Several women, light clothing flowing around lithe limbs, dark hair piled in gravity-defying styles were awaiting them and looked up as the clutch of soldiers stumbled out of the steeply angled tunnel; some of the women wore expressions of surprise, others ones of awe. To a woman, they bowed low—knees on the ground, bodies bent forward--as the lead soldier looked behind him, clearly searching for someone. "Milady. Your serving women. They will look after you." He reached back, his muscular arm threading through the phalanx of soldiers, his large hand closing around the forearm of the woman he was clearly addressing. Pulling her forward, he thrust her towards the still-bowed ladies-in-waiting.

The blonde woman looked around her, clearly at a loss. "Er...rise?"

The women rose from the ground at the command, ten pairs of eyes giving appraising looks to their new mistress. The oldest of the group took a step forward, looking towards the soldiers in a clear gesture of dismissal. The rasp of leather and armour could be heard as the soldiers vacated the small chamber, returning to the battle above. The blonde turned to watch them, confusion evident on her face; when the last man was gone, she turned back to the brunette who was preparing to speak. "Milady. It is an honour to be allowed to serve you. I am Diana; please, allow us to assist you. The dust of travel lies thick upon you, and after your arduous journey we are certain you would like a rest." The lady curtseyed before turning and clapping her hands sharply. The other nine ladies giggled slightly as they left the room rapidly — perhaps to prepare a bath? The blonde fervently hoped so. It had been a long day, and she could do with something soothing right about now. Diana turned back to her. "We understand your clothing may not have made it through the lines, we will have some made for you." Her gaze became curious. "These are the most unusual clothes; we will have to discuss styles with the modiste! Come, let us go."

As they walked through the cool stone halls, torches providing pools of light at regular intervals, Diana's voice provided a running commentary. "Of course we'd been expecting you sooner; the journey was surely trying?" The blonde nodded, figuring that was what had been expected of her. "Shame they felt the need to interfere in affairs which were none of their concern. If they'd just let things be, you'd be someplace nice, travelling in the style you deserve, honeymooning with your new husband; not having to be snuck in through back doors in the middle of a fight as that husband of yours leads warriors. What I want to know is how did all of those Achaeans get here so quickly? Surely the Gods would have aided your journey and not theirs?" Diana continued to ramble as they walked quickly, up flights of stairs, through more hallways, down a flight of stairs, through yet more hallways, up one last flight of stairs. They had not passed a single window during their journey.

They paused in front of a sturdy wooden door. "Ah, here we are. We'll soon have you right as rain!" With that, the maid pushed the door open to reveal a sunny room, a complete contrast to what she had seen so far. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all pure white marble, gossamer curtains billowing gently in the warm breeze coming through the large windows at the far end of the room. The furniture was light and airy, befitting the surroundings, and a low table off to the side held a pitcher, a cup, and some fresh fruit. After the darkness of the journey, the room was blindingly bright. A young woman hurried up to Diana, and whispered in her ear. Diana beamed and turned to the still-confused newcomer. "Ah, perfect. The bath is ready."

After a soothing bath of warm water laced with essential oils and herbs, then a visit with the modiste, Diana led her new charge to what looked to be a divan. "There's a bit of time before the evening meal; of course, everybody will be so eager to meet you and hear about the journey and our boy's daring rescue of you from those louts. Rest up; we'll be back shortly after sunset." Diana yet again clapped her hands, the order once more perfectly understood by the women in the room. In seconds, the marble room was empty save for the confused woman now sitting on the divan.

"Well, Rose, you've certainly got yourself into quite the mess this time," she said to the empty room. Taking a look around, she decided to take advantage of the offer of sleep; one never quite knew when opportunities for rest would crop up when travelling with the Doctor and it seemed best to take advantage of the offer from friendly locals. Based off of the basics the Doctor had provided when they'd landed--"Ooh, Asia Minor! Whoa, where'd those troops come from?"--Rose had a sinking feeling she had landed smack in the middle of one of the wars described in the dusty old tomes in the TARDIS library. The Doctor had read several of them to her during their many nights curled together in front of the fireplace, but she was still a bit fuzzy on the specifics of each of them (how much of that was due to their becoming distracted as they lay snuggled together was unclear). They had mentioned Troy...which war was that? One of the Peloponnesian ones? She pondered for a bit, relaxing her mind to try to jog the memory loose. The Trojan! Paris, Helen, Menelaus, Achilles—the names started to come back to her as she focussed. Rose wondered who they thought she was as she relaxed into a light sleep.

She dozed briefly, imagining herself and the Doctor outside the walls of the fortress she found herself in; hand-in-hand, walking through a field of flowers. A storm suddenly swept in, darkening the sky, the wind pulling them apart, and as she felt herself shaken awake she could hear his voice in her mind, calling frantically for her. She blinked, trying to focus, and found Diana leaning over her in the torchlight. "Milady, it's time to prepare for the evening meal." She helped Rose to stand, and Rose noticed several of the ladies-in-waiting milling around the edges of the room. "Let's get you dressed and primped, shall we?" The echoes of the Doctor's frantic voice were still reverberating in her mind, distracting her as the women draped her in light fabrics and began to style her hair. She must have dozed off again, because suddenly Diana was lightly shaking her shoulder. "Milady?" Rose shook her head slightly, noticing curls bouncing at the periphery of her vision; when had that happened?

"I'm sorry. My mind was miles away."

Diana gave her a knowing smile. "No doubt thinking of your handsome gentleman." Rose blushed, and Diana's smile grew. "Not to worry, he may yet join us tonight for the meal." Rose couldn't help the look of surprise that coloured her features; when last she had seen him, the Doctor had been cornered by many large, angry soldiers, demanding to know who he was and why the lady was with him. Tie askew and suit hopelessly dusty and rumpled from his roughing up, he had looked on helplessly as she had been dragged away from him, both of them proclaiming their innocence of whatever crime they were accused. Diana continued. "Oh, yes, he came in late this afternoon. He seems most happy and eager to see you again."

It was a short walk through the hallways, and Rose was surprised to find herself led not to another room, but to a small courtyard. There were several small couches arranged around low tables, the entire scene illuminated by hanging lamps. Rose searched the tableau for the Doctor, and was disappointed to find he wasn't there—although there were still three sofas that remained unoccupied. As they walked out into the night air, those who were already reclining stood to acknowledge her arrival. She wasn't quite sure what to do, and so settled for inclining her head in acknowledgement. Diana fussed as Rose settled on to her couch; she was suddenly quite grateful that she had been to ancient Rome on her adventures with the Doctor. She reclined on her left side, shifting around to get comfortable in the unusual position, as Diana moved a small table to within easy reach of Rose's right hand.

"Friends, we are honoured that you could join us tonight. In our midst, we have royalty, a daughter of the Gods come to bless us with her love for our son. I present to you, Helen!" The gentleman who had been speaking—her host?--gestured dramatically in Rose's direction as her jaw dropped. Surely he was kidding?

The guests continued to stare at her, clearly expecting something. She collected herself and smiled weakly. "It is my honour to be in such company?" That appeared to be enough, and the servants began to serve the first course, fruit sliced into dainty pieces and drizzled with honey and walnuts. Rose's stomach growled, as it occurred to her she hadn't eaten since she and the Doctor had arrived that morning. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she was fairly sure she was going to kill him when he arrived for dinner.

She had just begun to nibble on the offering in front of her when she heard motion behind her.

"Ionnas! So glad you could make it, even if you are late." The older gentleman who had welcomed her beamed at whoever had just walked in. She heard a non-committal grunt, then some shifting and grating as the tardy individual settled in to the sofa next to hers. She was just reaching towards for more of the sweet fruit dish when she heard a familiar voice from off to her left.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The shocking familiarity of the voice—a voice that shouldn't exist, not anymore--caused her to overbalance, leading her to fall forward off her couch. She looked up at the owner of the voice, certain she had mis-heard. A pair of brilliant blue eyes stared back at her.

What was i he /i doing here?

Five billion languages came in especially handy in times such as these, the Doctor contemplated as he navigated the narrow, crowded road at a pace that would put a cheetah on speed to shame. Five billion languages meant having a great many colourful obscenities at one's disposal, all of which he was currently stringing together under his breath. About half a dozen soldiers, large and heavily-armed- and considerably angry, from the sound of it- were on his heels. Additionally, and more importantly, he desperately needed to find out where Rose had been taken to.

i Really must stop misplacing companions, /i he told himself sternly.

He nimbly dodged a cart and a rather surprised-looking woman, turned a sharp corner in the road, and almost quite literally hit a wall.

Not just a wall - the fortress wall. The Doctor craned his neck back and contemplated its massive height and excellent stone masonry. Really quite wonderful craftsmen, these Trojans, just ahead of their time as far as mortar was concerned, really...

The shouting behind him was getting louder, the soldiers getting closer. He glanced from side to side, and up at the wall again, considering options. There was a great possibility of there being something Very Excellent on the other side. Or perhaps simply less soldiers.

i Besides /i , the Doctor reasoned, i it's just a wall, and I'm a Lord of Time...with plimsolls. /i

This seemed to be the absolute best plan of action, and the advancing soldiers, not surprisingly, did not attempt to follow him.

"Not too bad," he mused aloud as he pulled himself up over the top with some effort and started on the descent to the bottom, keeping up a cheery external monologue. "Nah, it should be i harder /i to escape Troy, it's as if there isn't a battle going on at all...now, Centauri Seven, on the other hand..."

His feet touched solid ground, and he turned at an abrupt sound behind him.

"Oh," he said with surprise. "Hello!"

Rose looked up at the man staring down at her and boggled slightly.

"Milady!" Diana bustled over to her, taking her arm and pulling her back up from the floor. "Milady, are you hurt?"

Rose dragged her eyes away with some effort to address the concerned woman at her side, and reminded her mouth how to make proper words. "No, no, I'm fine." The entirety of the courtyard was by now looking at the commotion she had caused, and she waved a hand at them distractedly. "Um...please continue?"

They did, thankfully, and Diana fussed about her until she was safely positioned back on the sofa before returning to the side of the courtyard. There was still one empty sofa left in the room, and Rose suddenly hoped it wasn't for theDoctor. That could be awkward.

"Ionnas! You've not met our guest!"

The Doctor—her i first /i Doctor, and wasn't that odd?—looked at their host briefly, surprised to realize there were other people in the room, before turning back to Rose. "No, I don't believe I have." Rose was gratified to see the Doctor looking as gobsmacked as she felt. His eyes—how had she forgotten the depth and brightness of that shade of blue?—were frightening in their intensity; the Doctor looked rather as though he was trying to see inside her head.

That answered that question, then. He knew exactly who she was. So when was this for him? Where was she? She didn't remember visiting Troy...

"It is our very great privilege to have Paris's bride Helen join us tonight. She only just arrived today—I'm impressed she's here and not saving her energy for...other things."

The group laughed; Rose prayed for a hole to open up under her sofa. The Doctor did not laugh, but instead gave her an appraising look.

"That so? Helen, eh? Sparta? Swept off your feet, no doubt, by a handsome stranger? Promised to take you to new places, on to a new life?" Rose tried to remember that the Doctor was talking about the here and now—about Paris and the Trojans—and not about what had actually happened when he'd burst in to her life. "You realize what's going on here?" His voice dropped to a whisper. Rose nodded weakly; the Doctor looked nonplussed. "How'd you get here, then?"

Rose swallowed. There was no way she could tell him the truth—not in front of this group, and not until she had a fair idea of when this was for him, personal timeline-wise. She'd lost this Doctor to Reapers once; she never wanted it to happen again. She remembered the dungeon in Cardiff, on only their second adventure together; "I saw the fall of Troy!" Here and now, he knew her; Cardiff had only been days after he'd blown up Henriks. There was only a very short period of time where this could fall for him.

He cleared his throat. Rose returned her focus to the dining area, and noticed everyone looking at her expectantly.

"Surely it's a tale of derring-do, hero rushing in and saving the poor lonely girl? Rescuing her from her life in a gilded cage? Escape by boat, pirates, that sort of thing?" the Doctor prodded her. Rose remained reluctant. She didn't recall much about the Trojan War. The Doctor—her current one—had been determined to read her the classics shortly after their stop on Delphos. After a week spent apart battling alien megalomaniacs who had taken on the forms of Greek Gods, Rose had been rather more intent on making up for lost time with the Doctor than learning about the fate of ancient City-states. He'd tried to further her education by reading the Iliad or the Odyssey several more times, but each attempt had met with the same result as his first effort.

"Well, uh..."

A matronly woman—the host's wife?--took pity on her. "Oh, do leave her alone, Ionnas. Can't you see it was a terrible trip for her? Can you imagine what it must have been like? Bad enough to have had to live where she did—then they had that horrible time in Egypt! No, far better for us to talk of the happy future instead." Rose smiled gratefully, and then turned back to the Doctor. It was only then that she realized he was clad as he had always been—black leather jacket, jumper (navy blue), black jeans, Doc Martens. And he still managed to look as though he belonged in that time and place.

Their host laughed. "Ionnas does love to ask that of everyone he meets. He's notoriously tight-lipped about his own path here—he seems to have sprung, fully formed, out of the earth outside the walls—but he loves to hear of other's adventures. Maybe, one of these days, he'll finally go off and have adventures of his own."

Rose choked back a laugh. "Surely you have an interesting tale to tell, sir?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

The Doctor did not look best pleased. "Nope, nothing interesting about me. But I did see the most amazing thing out in the agora today..." With that, the Doctor steered the conversation away to lighter, safer topics. Throughout the rest of the meal, he and Rose barely acknowledged each other's presence.

"Are you positive you do not want me to send for the physician?" Diana stood over her bed and looked at her fretfully. "You still look ever so pale, milady."

Rose thought that she was probably causing this woman more stress than a handmaid was used to on any given day. "No, no, I...I'm just tired, I think. I'll be fine after I get some sleep."

Diana's frown cleared a little, although she did not seem completely reassured. "Of course you are tired, the trip must have been quite exhausting...is there anything else you require? Would you like me to stay with you until you are asleep?"

"No," Rose replied, a little too hurriedly, "that's really alright, Diana, thank you. But you must be tired yourself."

The woman smiled. "I am quite used to very late nights here. Sleep well, milady."

Rose watched Diana leave the darkened room and shut the heavy wooden door firmly behind her, before letting go a faint sigh of relief.

"Right," she said out loud, getting her wits in order, and slid out of the overstuffed silk-laden bed, taking a flickering candle with her. Her head was still spinning from the events at dinner - events that made getting out of the present situation and finding the Doctor—her current Doctor--all the more urgent.

There may have been guards posted outside the doors of her room, but there were also very large windows. Windows, Rose thought, were excellent escape routes, and luckily Rose was equally excellent at escaping.

The latticed wooden shutters covering the openings were latched but not locked, and she almost laughed at the ease of it as she swung one side outwards into the warm night. Not quite as close to the ground as she would have liked, but she was above a garden, and it was empty, and quiet, and very dark...so what was a little climbing down a vine-encrusted stone wall?

"Piece of cake," Rose muttered to herself reassuringly, and swung both legs over the windowsill, found what could pass for hand- and footholds, and began to inch her way toward terra firma below.

"That's i beautiful /i ," the Doctor enthused, momentarily and easily distracted by the superior workmanship of the gigantic spear that was hovering inches away from his nose.

"I won't ask you again," said the person that the spear was attached to. "Who are you? And who sent you?"

The Doctor snapped to attention. "Oh! Right!" He patted his jacket pockets, frowning slightly in concentration as he pulled out the psychic paper and flashed it in front of the spear-wielding man's eyes.

The man quickly pulled the weapon back to his side and looked profusely sorry. "My apologies, Syntagmatarcha, I did not know it was you. Follow me, please. The regiment has been waiting for you."

The Doctor eyed the psychic paper appraisingly. "Ah! Colonel! Could be worse, I suppose. Where did you say we were going?"

"The regiment awaits your inspection," the man said over his shoulder as he walked on along the wall, past a dry moat and numerous guards going about their business and scattered tents made of fluttering cloth illuminated by flickering torches.

"Right, well, you see," said the Doctor brightly, "I'm looking for someone, a friend, just inside the wall there, so if -"

"Sir, surely you know that our situation is urgent," the man replied, "I am sure that in due time, we will be able to spare someone to inquire after your friend. Now, I am to bring you to meet with the General."

"Impressive," said an unexpected familiar voice, breaking the silence.

Startled, Rose grasped at the stonework, overbalanced, and immediately felt herself begin to slip from her already precarious position.

"Oh, i shit /i -"

She fell the rest of the short distance, conveniently missing a large leafy bush and instead landing in an ungraceful heap on the very hard ground.

"Ah, well, maybe not so impressive," the familiar voice continued, bemused enough that Rose thought she would have offered up a slap had she not been occupied with pain in every conceivable part of her body and a faceful of dirt and grass.

"Ughh," she replied instead from her sprawled place on the ground, and concentrated on making sure that her various limbs were still in working order.

Hands on her arms were pulling her up, helping her into a standing position, steadying her and holding her by the shoulders.

"Daft ape, what did you think you were doing?"

"Escaping."

He dropped his hands from her shoulders abruptly. "Dinner was that bad?"

She could barely make out his features, the garden was so shadowed, but his brilliant blue eyes blazed at her in what little sparse light spilled from the nearby windows.

"Yeah," she managed. "Terrible."

"Rose Tyler," he said, casual, as if not a thing was out of the ordinary. "Didn't think I would see you again."

i Of course /i , Rose realised, i I'm not with /i this i him - not yet, anyway /i . "Same here."

He raised an eyebrow. "And who are you swannin' through time with, then?"

Oh, she thought, and readied herself for a lecture on the imminent dangers of crossing time lines. "I...with you. I've been with you."

Something like surprise flickered across his face briefly.

"It's okay," she continued hurriedly, and didn't really know what else was entirely safe to say. "You...he's not here, we got separated outside, I dunno what happened...so you shouldn't run into each other or anything."

But he shook his head in contradiction. "This is bad. Shouldn't have happened." He looked at her intently. "You can't tell me anything, got that? Just that I know that you're here with me is bad enough."

She smiled a bit ruefully at that. "Got it."

She should have started moving, walking away. She had another Doctor out there to find, as soon as possible, before some rift in time happened and gobbled all of them up. But she stood in the moonlit garden with this Doctor and drank him in. Oh, she missed him. She wished she could hug him without causing a paradox or something.

"So what now?" he asked.

She realized she was staring at him and blinked out of it. "Now, uh…Well, I'll go find him…you…and—"

"Yeah, but how're you gonna do that?"

She hadn't really thought about it. Step One: Get out of her room. Step Two: Figure out Step Two. She glanced around the garden. "Well, I—"

He sighed heavily. She'd forgotten that special, patronizing sigh of his. "Come on." He set off along the dim, leafy path.

She looked after him, trying to figure out whether or not this was a good idea.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Well?"

She stopped hesitating. What was she i doing /i ? This was a gift—a marvellous gift from the universe. One more lark with her old, old Doctor, appreciating every moment of it.

She ran down the path after him.

"Where'd you say this general was again?" The Doctor was growing impatient. Sure, their spears were beautiful, as were their horses, their armour, their shields, their tents. But there were only so many compliments he could give when it was growing progressively darker and he was no closer to getting Rose back. He'd inspected his bloody regiment, now it was time to get back into Troy.

"He's on his way, sir," said one of the foot soldiers, who was lighting torches around the tent to combat the twilight. "He has had to stop to perform spot inspections."

"Spot inspections," muttered the Doctor, dismissively. "You don't understand. My friend—"

"Yes, sir," said the foot soldier, with an air of exasperation. "We know about your friend, sir. We've sent word to the Strategos. Here."

The Doctor frowned but automatically took the goblet that was thrust into his hands. He didn't drink. He was busy fretting. It was properly night now. Soon it would be quite dark. He'd been separated from Rose for hours. And if anything happened to her—if anyone so much as i breathed /i on her the wrong way—

"Ah! Syntagmatarcha!" exclaimed a voice.

The Doctor looked up from his contemplation of the contents of his goblet. Two men had entered the tent. They were both much larger than he was, weighed down with gleaming armour, pieces of which they began shedding immediately. And they both grinned at him in greeting, the grins showing laugh lines that creased through the dust on their faces. The Doctor stood up. Maybe, finally, it was time for action.

"It is so good to finally meet you," continued one of the new arrivals, removing his helmet to reveal a head of dark, thick hair, curling with sweat. He dropped the helmet negligently to the ground, where a foot soldier immediately scurried to reverently retrieve it.

"We have heard much," added the other arrival, accepting a fresh mantle for his shoulders from another foot soldier, "of the discipline of your regiment."

"Have you? Excellent. That's excellent. Listen, I have this friend—"

"That's an interesting garment," said one of the generals, thoughtfully, regarding the Doctor's coat with interest, as a foot soldier came hurrying up and glanced suspiciously at the Doctor. The man bent down a bit, and the foot soldier began whispering in urgent tones in his ear.

"You were saying, Syntagmatarcha?" asked the man not preoccupied with the foot soldier, politely.

"Yes," said the Doctor. "My friend—"

"Excuse me," interrupted the general who was conversing with the foot soldier. "Odysseus. If I could have a word."

The Doctor blinked in astonishment.

"Just a moment," the man called Odysseus said to the Doctor, and wandered off to a corner of the tent, where there was a whispered consultation, before the foot soldier dashed off and Odysseus returned. "I apologize. You were saying?"

"Are you Odysseus? Husband of Penelope, father of Telemachus?" asked the Doctor. What good luck! What brilliant good luck!

Odysseus looked surprised. "Well, yes. I thought you knew that. I'm Odysseus. This is Achilles. Who did you think we were?"

"Odysseus and Achilles!" The Doctor grinned in delight. "Oh, this is brilliant! This is just i brilliant /i ! This is…top banana!" He bounced over to Odysseus and gave him an exuberant hug, then the same to Achilles.

Achilles and Odysseus exchanged an amused glance.

"You!" exclaimed the Doctor, pointing at Odysseus, still rising onto his toes in excitement. "You are the cleverest man who ever lived! You really are! You're a genius! You are nearly as clever as me, and that is saying something."

"Odysseus," commented Achilles, wryly, "I do think the Syntagmatarcha is challenging you to a battle of wits. You cannot out-sly Odysseus, you know," Achilles told the Doctor. "It's impossible."

Odysseus laughed, as he settled onto the ground of the tent and a foot soldier brought him a goblet. "Nonetheless, it might be amusing to engage in such a battle, in between bouts of the real war, of course."

The Doctor really could not believe his good luck. If anybody was capable of competently helping him rescue Rose, it would have to be Odysseus. And oh, Rose was going to love this! So what if she always took the opportunity of his opening "The Odyssey" or "The Iliad" to prove her theory that she could seduce a certain Time Lord in thirty seconds flat? Surely she would love to meet Odysseus in the flesh! What stories he could tell!

"So," he began, eagerly. "About my friend—"

"Yes, we have been told of your friend trapped in Troy." Odysseus drank deeply from his goblet. "It is unfortunate but there is nothing we can do for him at the moment."

"It isn't a him, it's a her. And there must be something you can do. I have to get back to her."

Odysseus and Achilles both began laughing.

The Doctor blinked at them. "What's so funny?"

"Well," said Odysseus, "we i know /i there's a woman in Troy who needs to be rescued. It's why we're here. You're quite amusing, Syntagmatarcha."

"I am, actually, very funny, but not just now. Just now I'm very serious. I'm not talking about Helen of—the Helen that you're all here for; I'm talking about another woman."

"What other woman?" asked Achilles, with interest. He was leaning against the pole of the tent, arms folded.

"Her name is Rose Tyler, and she's…my…" Achilles and Odysseus both lifted their eyebrows at him, while he floundered about how to describe her. "She's trapped in Troy!" he finished.

"How did she get trapped in Troy?" inquired Odysseus. "Is she Trojan?"

"No, she's not Trojan, she's…Can't you just help me get her?"

"How are we going to find this woman?" demanded Achilles, sounding irritated. "It will be impossible. What does she look like?"

The Doctor thought. "Well, she's about this tall." He gestured vaguely in the air. "And she's…you know…curvy. And she's got blonde hair and really pretty eyes and—What is so funny?"

Because Odysseus and Achilles had both burst out laughing again.

Achilles walked over to him and dropped a hand on his shoulder, smiling into his eyes. "Once Helen gets to Troy, we promise we'll rescue her. Not much we can do until she gets there."

"She's not there yet?" asked the Doctor.

Achilles dropped his hand and shrugged. "They want us to think she is."

"We're fairly sure her caravan's been delayed."

"Odysseus trusts his spies."

"I trained them," replied Odysseus.

"So Helen's not here yet," clarified the Doctor, slowly, thinking. That meant it was very early on in the war. All of these soldiers had ten more years of staring at the walls of Troy in front of them. And, even more alarmingly… "And Rose looks like her." Enough like her to be mistaken for her? How many strange, blonde women wandered into a Troy under siege? Not very many. The Doctor stared at the city's walls in the distance. "Many things about this are not good."