The Doctor

"You've never mentioned these people," he exclaimed, reading the message for the fourteenth time. "Why not?"

Znya shrugged a shoulder. "I scarcely thought it necessary. They were always so far away, such a distant threat...I cannot imagine how they've come to be here so quickly. I'd have expected to hear about them being on the move."

"Who are they?" Rose whispered.

"Bolton's riders," Znya replied. "They're a rider gang, from up north. Led by a nasty piece of work, name of Sandon Bolton."

"How many do they number?" the Doctor asked.

"Oh...two-hundred? Less? I'm not sure. But it's not the size of their force which worries me, father. It's the calibre of the fighters, and moreover, the hardware they possess."

"Go on."

"Well, this is secondhand knowledge, yet I'd think it accurate. Word goes that each man has a rifle, and scimitar at his hilt. Scimitars are bad news, worse even than swords."

"How's that?"

"The injuries they cause," Znya shuddered, "a stab wound, I can stomach. I can observe that with no qualms, even treat it if I have too. But slashes from a scimitar? Those, I cannot bear."

Jack whistled. "We's in trouble, then. Reckon it's worth just paying up?"

Znya scoffed. "I don't have...what were they demanding again?"

"Two-thousand shillings, no less," the Doctor replied, "but here, I could always take a little trip, give the Tardis a good run. Reckon I could get me hands on two-thousand shillings, from somewhere or other."

"I think not." Zyna replied tartly. "Could be that we pay up, and they let us be, true to their word. Could equally be that we pay up, and they attack regardless, killing all of us. Want to take the risk?"

The Doctor shrugged.

"Moreover," she said, "even if they did let us be, we'd be forever known as a house who surrenders, a house who pays any demand bestowed on it, for fear of shedding or spilling a little blood. A house such as that won't be around for long, Doctor. Even with a mind like yours' at the helm."

"Awright," he conceded, feeling faintly ashamed that the prospect of a battle should stir such dirty excitement in him. "Now, they say they're camped the other side of Callow's Wood...how long will it take 'em to get here, when they realize there ain't no money forthcoming?"

Znya grimaced. "A day? Not even? We've got no time to lose, my lords. I suggest we make a start."

"Damn straight." the Doctor nodded gravely, turning to Jack. "You." he growled rudely, staring daggers into the man. "Your good at fighting, right? And since your apparently staying here, you can make yourself useful."

"Right, whatever." he replied unhelpfully.

The Doctor groaned. "Now, look 'ere," he snapped, glaring at Jack and Rose. "I don't want to send either of you home - but I surely shall, if you don't buck up, the pair of ya!" Ever since "apologizing" for their outburst the other day, his two friends had been as sullen and solitary as the Weeping Angels of old, faces carved of stone, discontent oozing from their every pore. Despite that, he hadn't the heart in him to force them home.

"All right, Doc," Jack nodded, "I'll take charge of the defences. Sure. Lady Znya, how we doing for men and arms?"

"Oh, badly," she laughed humorlessly, loosening the red ruffle of her collar. "Very badly indeed. Why, there's Cartwright and the servants based in the castle, a couple of guards too. Then there's the villagers of course...I haven't done a count for many a month, but I think they number around seventy. Unless the pox took any of them over winter, which I admit is a possibility."

"So in other words, we ain't even got a hundred?" Jack gritted his teeth.

"Probably not, no. But," she turned to her silent sentinel of a husband, who jumped violently in his seat when she spoke. Seeing the spider had troubled the useless sap, right enough. He was an insipid little wart before he stumbled upon the tower, and now he was an insipid nervy little wart.

"Yes, my l-love?" he stammered.

"Write to the Blackforte immediately," she told him, "tell your lord father to send us as many men as he can, and whatever weapons and supplies he may spare."

"Yeah...yeah, I'll do that." Arthur nodded vigorously.

"Well, good. And it's probably worth pointing out to him that if Callow's Reach falls, the Bolton riders will surely turn their sights on the Blackforte thereafter."

"Very good." He climbed to his feet, bumping his knee on the edge of the table as he practically ran from the dining hall.

"Poor kid," she said sympathetically. "I can only assume Paula came close to killing him, having left him in such a bad place up here." she tapped the side of her head.

"Aye," the Doctor nodded. "Speaking of Paula...reckon we oughta wheel her out?"

Znya stared at him. "Why would we do that?"

"Because," Rose said sweetly, her voice poisoned honey, "you said Paula was there to protect you, if the need ever arose. You told us that Romana gave you her to keep you safe. Remember?"

Hot anger bubbled in the Doctor's temples. "Careful, Rose." he hissed, and she shot him a disgusting look in reply. Somewhere at the very back of his brilliant mind, he distinctly recalled Znya saying precisely this, and the dimmest flicker of something resembling suspicion passed briefly through his head, almost like a dream. But it didn't last.

"So I did," Znya smiled, and all was right in the world. "And your right, that's what she's for...but not for small-fry like this. Mother gave her to me in the event of an alien invasion. Not a jumped up highwayman, throwing his weight around."

"Why didn't you use her to be rid of the Judoon, then?" Was Rose's reply.

"Enough!" the Doctor slammed his fist on the tabletop. "I can't have this constant flamin' prattlin'!" he glared at Rose. "Now, I'm going to draw up our battle plan, and I ain't gonna be disturbed. I need hardly mention that if I get this wrong, we're all dead as mutton."