Apologies for the uncharacteristically late upload. Once more all my thanks go to Clare Mansfield for being a fantastic Beta, and responsible for more than a few of the snappier sentences in this chapter. And of course, to my ever-growing readership. Gallifrey Rises!
"Rose…" the Doctor sighed as he stood in the middle of the muddy street. His companion was heading straight for him, her dress dusty and filthy and her hair entirely out of place. After being knocked out, tortured and threatened with hanging, the one thing the Doctor needed was to know Rose, at least, was safe.
"Rose," he repeated as she neared him, holding out his arms to embrace her. But Rose steamed straight past the Doctor, almost knocking him out of the way as she marched on. The Doctor stood and watched, utterly baffled, as Rose made her way directly to Sir Philip.
"Now, I don't know what you're-" Sir Philip began. It was not a sentence he was destined to finish. Without breaking stride Rose swung her leg in a lethal arc, her foot crashing sickeningly between Sir Philip's legs. The officer went as white as a sheet and crumpled like wet cardboard, groaning and gasping for air as he writhed on the floor.
Rose leaned over the fallen soldier, wild-eyed. "No-one," she said, "no-one treats the Doctor like that!" She straightened up and marched back to the Doctor, stopping as she clocked his astonished glare. "…What?" she barked, frowning.
"I just…" the Doctor mumbled, still in shock, "I can't believe you…can't believe what you just…"
"He tortured you!" Rose screeched. "I saw it, from up there!" She pointed to the window high above them. "Did you really think I wouldn't have something to say about it?"
The Doctor stared gape-mouthed at Rose as she stood with her hands on her hips, hair messy and dress ruined, with Sir Philip behind her being helped up gradually by a pair of sniggering guards. "Well," he began, desperately trying to get his train of thought back on track, "what happened to you up there? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Rose said, stepping closer to the Doctor. "Cromwell called me for questioning. I think they know you're not…you know…from here," she whispered, glancing around to where the soldiers still stood menacingly. "He has the psychic paper."
"Oh, that's alright," the Doctor replied flippantly, "I've got a whole book of the stuff back on the TARDIS. Anyway, its effectiveness is linked to the proximity of the TARDIS' time vortex, so as soon as we shoot off it should just turn into normal paper. That really isn't the worst thing for me to be worrying about right now, is it?" He asked, clocking the look on Rose's face before turning to Sir Philip and saying, "I think it's time I had a word with Mister Cromwell."
As if on cue, Cromwell and a bevy of soldiers emerged from a side street and lined the road, their muskets primed and ready. "John Smythe!" he called out. "Or Doctor, as that is how you seem to style yourself; you have lied to the Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of Great Britain in matters of the most urgent national security, and as such you can only hope for a quick and painless death!" The air seemed to stop moving around the Doctor and his companion as Cromwell addressed them. "Or," he continued, "You can aid us in catching the murderer of Matthew Farrar, one Colm Mac Niéll."
"Bloody Irish scum," came a familiar rough voice, almost as a reflex, from the ranks of men.
"You!" Rose screamed, running to the side of the Doctor and attempting to launch herself at the soldier Wright, Cross' erstwhile partner and cause of his suicide.
"Woah, woah, woah!" The Doctor cried out, wrapping his arms around Rose and restraining her. "What's gotten into you?"
"Cross...that nice young soldier. He said he was fed up of serving with monsters." She turned her mutinous eyes in Wright's direction as she struggled to free herself from the Doctor's arms. "He shot himself and it's all thanks to him!"
You've done more than enough damage for one day, Rose!" The Doctor reprimanded her sternly, causing Rose to cease in her resistance as she whispered hideous threats to a visibly shaken Wright.
"What?" Wright asked, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. "What's she saying?"
"I couldn't possibly repeat it," The Doctor replied, staring Wright down.
"What do you say, Doctor?" Cromwell demanded once more. "Help us catch Mac Niéll and you shall be granted amnesty. It's the best offer you're going to get; should you refuse, then on your head be it."
The Doctor shook his head slowly, his lips curling into a grimace. "Oh, if only you knew what history's got in store for your head," he replied, his grimace turning into a grim - almost evil - smile. "I'll do it," he added, cutting off a confused look from Cromwell. "Just tell me what I need to know."
***
The Doctor, Rose, Cromwell and Sir Philip de Pevensey were gathered in the large, sumptuous dining-hall of the Mayor's residence. The Mayor himself nervously gulped down a large goblet of wine at one end of the table, his beady eyes never straying too far from the hands of the soldier who stood next to him. Half-a-dozen soldiers lined the walls with pikes raised, the tips of their weapons causing havoc with the painted ceiling ('Fourteenth century,' the Mayor had lamented, 'and now it's a chessboard!').
"Colm Mac Niéll returned with the Ironsides as a prisoner from Ireland," Sir Philip began, his gaze pointedly avoiding Rose's. "A personal prisoner of Major Farrar's," he added, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.
"A personal prisoner?" The Doctor asked, chewing on one end of his glasses. "How does that work?"
"Well, in the old days in Ireland, clan leaders could be taken as the personal prisoner of another clan leader; they were prisoners in name only, simply confined to their captor's village and as free to roam and greet as any other villager," Sir Philip explained, "and Mister Mac Niéll is, by virtue of being the last of his clan left alive, the clan leader. Major Farrar invoked the ancient law and brought him back to England."
"Why'd he do that?" Rose demanded, no less fierce than she had been outside.
"I don't know," Sir Philip admitted, showing his palms. "Maybe he took pity on him, he couldn't have been more than fourteen at the time."
"I think there's more to it than that," the Doctor muttered, putting his glasses away. "Someone lied…or is lying. Whatever happened to Mister Farrar could not have been committed by a human, and so that's what we're looking for. Something that isn't human."
"Witchcraft!" Cromwell barked, slamming his fist onto the table. "I knew it!"
"Just because something is not human," the Doctor explained very slowly and clearly, "does not mean it's witchcraft. Didn't you ever read Galileo? 'I refuse to believe that the same God who endowed us with sense and reason intended for us to forgo their use', that's a brilliant quote! One of the greatest pieces of Renaissance thinking there is!" He proclaimed desperately, throwing his hands up in the air.
Cromwell was unamused. "You quote a heretic to insult my intelligence?"
The Doctor sighed deeply. "Wherever I go," he said softly, "things like this happen. I'm…drawn to disturbances like this. Things people can't explain. Things that scare them, and when they're scared people do stupid things. I'm here to help," he reassured the reddening General.
"You're here to spread discord in my Kingdom!" Cromwell roared, rising to his feet. "You're an agent of the Devil, Sir, and I will not allow you to-"
"Lord Cromwell!" Sir Philip barked, his volume surprising all in the room - none less so than the Mayor, who choked loudly on a mouthful of wine - "Lord Cromwell, I must protest! The Doctor is the most knowledgeable of all gathered here on this subject, and he graciously offered his help to me when he had no cause to! It was an act of true Christian goodness," he challenged Cromwell, his eyes narrow and serious.
Cromwell stood panting and hard-faced, staring Sir Philip down. "Your counsel is wise, Earl Pevensey," he muttered lowly, sitting back down. "Let us hope all your words are as sound."
"Right then!" The Doctor said brightly, trying desperately to inject a little adrenaline into the proceedings, "Sir Philip, what's your plan of action?"
"Find Mac Niéll, of course," Sir Philip replied. "Murderer or not, he's a key witness at the very least. And even you must admit, Doctor, that escaping like he did looks suspicious."
The Doctor sighed and shook his head. "He's just a kid," he retorted, "he was probably scared. He'll turn up in time."
"He was scared," Rose interjected, "terrified. He told me about what happened, but…it was odd, he didn't seem himself…"
"Ooh, the Lady's got an inkling!" The Doctor remarked with a smile as he took an applet from the platter.
Cromwell gave a derisive snort. "You'd trust the opinion of an illiterate woman?"
"Absolutely," the Doctor said with a beam, turning his intent gaze on Rose. "So come on, what is it? Animal? Mineral?" He took a large bite out of the apple. "Vegetable?"
A rapid knock at the door broke the silence as a soldier let himself in. "My Lord," he addressed Cromwell, "there's been another murder."
"Who is it?" Cromwell demanded, leaping to his feet.
"Wright, Sir," the soldier replied. "Sergeant William Wright."
The Doctor rose slowly, eyeing the soldier carefully. "Where was Sergeant Wright found?"
"In the river, Sir."
All eyes, Rose's included, turned towards the Doctor. "Alright," he sighed after a lengthy silence. "I'll drive."