SIX
As promised, they found an inn in a clandestinely Jewish quarter of the city, where Martha had recommended they try to find lodging. At first, the innkeeper's wife was reluctant to accept the travelers because she, as everyone, believed that Feeno was a Christian Friar in his robe. But the Doctor was able to appeal to her own sense of religious charity (read: her utter kneecap-melting attraction to him), and eventually they were accepted.
However, the four of them were still regarded skeptically. After the matron allowed them into the inn, her husband protested that he'd not have any "funny business" in his establishment. He looked at the motley crew of travelers with angry suspicion. Two peculiarly-dressed, dandy-looking men (one of them made him feel kind of funny...), an African woman and a Friar. What were these people playing at?
"Oh, there's no need to worry, sir," the Doctor assured him. "This is my wife, and these are my friends. We are on a charity mission from the parish of Tardis." He flashed his psychic paper. "Please allow us to enter your fine home, and we shall not disturb you but for a bit of bread and a candle or two."
Feeno poised his hands in prayer uncomfortably, as an afterthought.
"Married to a negress, eh?"
Martha whispered in exasperation, "What is it with these people and that word?"
"Shh," Jack advised. "It could be a lot worse."
"I'm not sure that's even legal," the man said. "I dunno about this..."
"Then split us up. Whatever. Do you have room or not?" Martha spat, impatiently.
"Got two. Five pennies per room, per nigh'," he warned.
"Fine," the Doctor said flatly, rather eager to end this discussion.
The innkeeper regarded them once more with caution, and then said, "Why not? Righ' this way." He grabbed two keys from under the desk and pushed past his new guests and tromped up the stairs.
They followed him to the second floor. The hallway was short and had five doors. He indicated one of them. "This is for the two men and the Friar," he announced. Gesturing to the room adjacent, he said, "And this is for the lady. Remember, no funny business."
"Yes, sir," the Doctor promised. "Thank you."
Jack and Martha each took a key, and the innkeeper disappeared down the stairs.
"Oh, if only he knew how funny the business is," Jack mused.
"Yeah, well, you'd best be glad he doesn't," the Doctor said. "He'd toss us out of here in a flash if he knew you were sharing a bed with a purple Friar from another planet."
As she unlocked the door, Martha muttered, "Something you don't hear every day. Unless you're us."
The innkeeper was nowhere in sight, so the Doctor followed her, and Feeno followed Jack. None of the four of them left their rooms again that night, though no one exactly went to sleep right away. They all foresook food in exchange for the pleasure of someone else's company – oh, the business was indeed funny that evening, though they were careful not to draw attention to themselves. Perhaps the possibility of scandal boiled their blood, restrained though their exertions necessarily remained. Fun was fun, but any stray moaning heard through the paper-thin walls, and the lot of them were done-for, perhaps even jailed or hanged. And so they smouldered in heavy, breathy silence.
Lying in the dark, having long-since blown out the last candle on the night table, and more recently having burned down the flame of the good Doctor now sleeping lightly beside her, Martha marveled at her own prescience. This morning, when she had awakened in the TARDIS' master suite, she had felt as though she were in the position where everyone wanted to be. Now, on this Earth, here in 1350 with the Love Doctor running about, that was literally true. She turned on her side and cuddled up to him. He smiled slightly in his weightless slumber.
She was just drifting off to sleep in her contentment when the door to their room opened. Two cloudy figures entered the room, and in her half-conscious dream state, she thought idly, "Oh, isn't that interesting – this lot has taken to accosting the Doctor in his sleep. I am indeed a lucky woman..."
"He's awake – move quickly," Ahedruma whispered to Plexaphedros. She observed that Martha had not much stirred, but she could see the Doctor's wide eyes burning in the dark.
In a millisecond, Plexaphedros had the Doctor pinned to the straw mattress with his knee and left arm, and his mouth covered with the right arm. The Time Lord watched in horror as Ahedruma injected Martha's arm with a dark liquid, from an implement that looked very much like a twentieth-century syringe. For a few seconds, Martha struggled, and then went limp, seeming simply to drift off to sleep.
Then, Ahedruma injected the Doctor with the same substance. Just before he drifted off himself, he saw a second syringe plunged into Martha's arm...
And then he saw nothing more for quite some time.
