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The Girl Who Died – Part Two
There was a flash of light; the Doctor looked up from his diary to see the Corsair, Clara and that Viking girl reappear. Romana hurried over to them, giving Clara a hug. "Oh, thank goodness you're back" she said, relieved.
The Viking man, who had introduced himself as Einarr, rushed over as well. "My child!" he cried, pulling Ashildr into his arms. Emily and Flavia hugged Clara as well, very pleased to see her safe and sound; she looked at the Doctor, who was hovering on the sidelines. He smiled awkwardly and gave her a thumbs up. "I'm not a hugger" he reminded her…but then he changed his mind, "Ahh, let's hug!" He briefly squeezed her hard enough to lift her off the ground, and then let go.
"I'm fine too, if anyone was wondering" the Corsair quipped, "Except that we've got ourselves a bit of a situation".
"Where are the others?" Einarr asked his daughter, who shook her head with a look of distress.
"I'm sorry, father" was all she could bring herself to say.
"I would hope so, considering you just started a war" the Corsair commented.
Einarr looked from him to Ashildr, frowning in bewilderment. "What?"
"I looked the aliens up in my two thousand year diary" the Doctor was saying to Clara, "They're called the"-
"The Mire, I know, the Corsair mentioned it" she nodded, before adding, "What are the Mire?"
"They're a warrior race, like the Daleks or Sontarons, one of the deadliest in the universe" the Corsair replied, "I ran into them a couple of times back in the day".
"Yes, but the good news is they're practical. They get what they want and go" the Doctor explained, looking hopefully at the other Time Lord. "You convinced them to leave Earth alone, didn't you? I knew you would" he remarked confidently.
The Corsair shook his head and replied, "Actually, no. I would have, if it weren't for Ashildr here declaring war on them".
All eyes turned to Ashildr, who shrank back a little under the barrage of questioning and somewhat accusing stares. Einarr wrapped an arm around his daughter's shoulders and guided her away from them, frowning over his shoulder at the Corsair for upsetting her. An awkward silence ensued, broken by Clara clearing her throat and remarking "Um…can someone help me out of this spacesuit?"
/
The remaining villagers and the time travellers gathered in a shadowy longhouse, lit only with candle stubs burning from cartwheel chandlers, hung from the ceiling. "They're coming here tomorrow, ten of them, to kill everybody in the village" Clara warned them all.
Einarr looked at his daughter and questioned, "Ashildr, is this true?"
The poor girl clearly felt very guilty at what her impulsive pride had done. "It's all my fault" she replied in dismay.
"Not every misfortune that befalls this village is down to you" Einarr tried to reassure her; from the way she shifted uncomfortably, the attempt at comfort didn't quite reach home.
It didn't help that the Corsair felt the need to point out, "In this case, it kind of is…"
"Oh, give it a rest" Flavia snapped in exasperation. First he treats me like c***, and now he's picking on Ashildr? I swear, there's something wrong with him.
Rather than argue back, the Corsair just sighed and muttered an apology. Einarr decided not to pursue it; they had other things to worry about. "She thinks she brings us bad luck" he explained for the benefit of the strangers who claimed they could help defeat these…Mire.
"What bad luck?" the Doctor asked, sounding genuinely curious, "You haven't had any bad luck. You're fine".
A particularly stocky Viking with a limp moustache frowned and protested, "We are about to be attacked by"-
"Yes, yes, yes, yes" the Doctor waved him off, "With a whole day to spare! So leave! Hop it, take off! Into the woods, split up, hide. Hang about there for a week, come back home, make puddings and babies. That's basically what you do, isn't it?"
This suggestion was met only with blank stares and frowns. "We cannot leave this village" Einarr insisted stubbornly.
"Why not?" asked Emily, "It won't be forever" she pointed out.
"Precisely" the Doctor nodded in agreement, "Of course you can. Just pick a direction. Fly like a bird, run like a nose. That's probably a Viking saying, I haven't checked that".
"Dad, that's not a saying in any culture".
"Less of the sass, young lady" he said, pointing a warning finger at her.
"No" the stocky man declared, "We will fight!"
There was a chorus of "Ayes!" from the rest of the Vikings.
"Well, I could probably take out a few" the Corsair remarked a bit arrogantly, "But in case you've forgotten, the Mire nicked all your warriors. So it'll be ten deadly alien warriors up against a bunch of farmers, fishermen and desperate housewives. No offence, but I think my money's on the Mire".
Einarr suddenly stood up, tired of this stranger besmirching their honour. He pulled out a leather skin and tossed it onto the floor; an assortment of bladed weapons tumbled out. "We are Vikings!" he declared proudly.
"Aye!"
Now I see where Ashildr gets it from the Corsair noted. The Doctor looked around at them all and inquired, "Okay, tell me this. How many people here have actually held a sword in battle? By a show of hands?" he added. The villagers murmured and looked at one another, but none of them actually put their hands up. "Mm-hmm. Yeah, baby" the Doctor smirked, raising his own hand. The Corsair raised his, as did Clara and Romana. Emily's parents hadn't let her use a sword yet, and Flavia…
Well, she hadn't used a sword much because…because whenever someone attacked her with one, the Corsair would almost always be there with a sword of his own, defending her. I suppose I ought to learn to defend myself now…now that the Corsair and I probably won't be on missions together. Why did that thought make her sad?
The Doctor picked up a broadsword from the pile on the floor. "The Mire are coming for each and every one of you" he warned the villagers, pointing the tip of the sword at them. Quite a few of them flinched back, even though the sword was nowhere near them. He threw it down again – it clattered horribly – and asked, "So what you going to do? Raise crops at them?"
"If necessary" the stocky man replied; he obviously wasn't the sharpest knife in the belt, so to speak.
"I think he was being sarcastic" another Viking muttered to him.
"We're not cowards" Einarr insisted bravely, "We do not run. A death in battle is a death with honour!"
"Aye!" the third chorus died off at the sound of a baby, somewhere in the village, beginning to cry.
The Doctor gave Einarr a hard look and asked him bluntly, "Do babies die with honour?"
Romana listened to the baby's cries in the ensuing silence and murmured, "She's afraid. She wants her mother to hold her because she's afraid".
"Err, they speak Baby" Clara explained to the confused Vikings.
"She wants her mother to look at her" Romana continued, her eyes closed; a soft smile played on her lips. "She thinks her mother is beautiful. She wants to sing for her mum…she's scared, but she still wants her mum to feel better". Emily edged closer and gave her own mother a hug…in the distance, they could hear the baby begin to laugh a little, almost crying and laughing at the same time.
"Babies think that laughter is singing. Did you know that?" the Doctor asked the villagers. "We applaud your courage, but we deplore your stupidity. And we will mourn your deaths, which will be terrifying, painful, and without honour" he told them solemnly. Then he turned on his heel and walked towards the door; Ashildr scrambled from her seat and hurried to intercept him.
"Stay" she pleaded, "You could help us. I know you could".
"We told you to run. That's all the help you need. And that's all the help you're getting" he replied, before walking out of the building.
Ashildr's face fell; she quickly turned to the five remaining strangers, in particular the dark haired man who had saved her life. "Help us, please" she begged them, "I'm sorry. I know I've made a terrible mistake, but I can't fix this on my own".
"Oh, we'll help, Ashildr" Romana assured her, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, "And so will the Doctor. He just…needs a bit of persuading. Clara, could you talk to him?"
"Me? Won't you listen more to you?"
"Yes, and he needs to do this because it's the right thing to do, not because his wife asked him nicely".
Clara nodded, understanding, and went out to talk to the Doctor. After she'd left, Ashildr looked up at the Corsair with a hopeful, near desperate expression on her face. He sighed and ran a hand over his own face, and admitted "Okay, Ashildr. We'll help you defeat the Mire…somehow. But first, I'm going to need those eye pieces back".
/
He must have heard or sensed her coming, because when Clara stepped up beside the Doctor, he told her, "The earth is safe, humanity is not in danger. It's just one village".
"Just one village?" she asked sceptically; it wasn't like the Doctor to say 'just one anything'. No matter how much he tried to deny it, everything and everyone mattered to him. That was why he could never just walk away, not really.
He looked at her then. "Suppose we saved it by some miracle. No TARDIS, no sonic"- Clara refrained from interrupting to mention that Ashildr still had the pieces – "Just one village defeats the Mire. What then? Word gets around. Earth becomes a target of strategic value, and the Mire come back. And God knows what else. Ripples into tidal waves until everybody dies" he explained. It wasn't that he didn't want to help; but sometimes, the few had to be sacrificed for the sake of the many. It was a choice he knew all too well, and he hated making it, but it had to be done.
The baby cried again. "What's she saying?"
"She's afraid" he told her, "Babies sense danger. They have to". He closed his eyes and listened, murmuring aloud what the infant was saying. "Mother, I hear thunder. Mother, I hear shouting. You are my world, but I hear other worlds now. Beyond the unfolding of your smile, is there other kindness? I'm afraid. Will they be kind? The sky is crying now…I want to see the fishes, mother".
Clara didn't have half a clue what any of that really meant, but she did know one thing. No matter what, the Doctor couldn't walk away when there were children crying. She could see him considering, and smiled when the cries ceased, and placed a hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked down at her inquisitively. "You just decided to stay" she told him with a smile, "The baby stopped crying".
Romana stepped up to them just then. "We're all on board, love" she told her husband, "And I think you're going to need these. The Corsair fixed them" she explained, sliding his now repaired sonic sunglasses onto his face.
The Doctor smiled happily and gave her a kiss. "Remind me to thank the Corsair. Well then, let's make some warriors out of this bunch. How hard could it be?"
/
A little bit later, the remaining men in the village (of which there were few) were standing in a line, holding wooden staves. The Doctor walked up and down the line, playing at being a drill sergeant. The Corsair had offered to be the drill sergeant, but the Doctor decided that he'd probably do it too well and make them all faint. "So, when I say move, you move" the Doctor informed them, "When I say jump, you say how high? Unless it's across a gap of some kind which, of course, means you jump horizontally. Yes, what is it, Lofty?" he asked one blond Viking.
"Sorry, my name's not actually Lofty, it's Bro"-
"No, it's not, it's Lofty" the Doctor insisted, "I've got too much to think about without everybody having their own names, so it's Lofty. You're Lofty, you're Daphne, you're Noggin the Nog, ZZ Top, and you're, err, Heidi. So, we'll try that again. Lofty, what is it?"
"Sorry, sir, it's just, why aren't we practising with real swords?"
"Yes, perhaps you'd like to field this one, Limpy?" the Doctor asked the stocky man, who was sitting to one side and tying a bandage around his knee.
"Because we can't be trusted with them" he answered gloomily.
"That's right, yes" the Doctor nodded, "You'll be given your real swords back when you can prove that you can wave them around without lopping bits off yourselves". He frowned and inquired, "Heidi, why are your eyes closed?"
"Sorry, sir. Just not that good with the sight of blood" the man explained, blindly gesturing at Limpy. The Doctor stared at him incredulously, and looked at the Corsair, who could only shrug.
"No, of course you're not" he sighed. This was turning out to be more difficult than he'd thought…stupid Murphy's Law. Perhaps he should let the Corsair go full 'drill sergeant nasty' on them…maybe they'd get so scared, they would change their minds and flee like he'd told them they ought to.
/
The womenfolk were watching from a safe distance, feeling a mounting sense of doom. Not only had many of them lost their husbands, now they had to rely on strangers and inexperienced – or to put it less kindly, incompetent – menfolk to defend them against horrors from the sky. Romana and Flavia did their best to ease their concerns, whilst Emily and Clara stood with Ashildr, watching the Doctor and the Corsair attempt to train people who most emphatically were not warriors.
"Swords against those creatures; that won't work, will it?" Ashildr asked, more rhetorically than anything.
"Don't worry, Ashildr. My dad has faced much worse odds than this" Emily told her confidently.
Clara nodded in agreement and remarked, "He's just warming up. He hasn't got a plan yet. But he will have, and it will be spectacular". At least she hoped so; from the way the 'defenders' were flailing their wooden staves at each other like children playing with sticks, it would have to be.
Of course, the Doctor had never been the most patient of people; after an hour and a half of so called 'training', he held his sword high and whistled through his fingers for attention. "Enough theory; I'm handing out the real swords" he announced decisively; the Corsair immediately sensed that things would not end well. He casually relayed this nugget of opinion to the Doctor and suggested that they probably weren't ready to wield sharp deadly objects. "Well, we're sort of short on time, Corsair" the Doctor pointed out, before going off to give Lofty, Heidi, Einarr (or Chuckles) and the rest their weapons.
Chaos ensued. It was going well, all things considered, until half way through the training…the next thing they knew, the village horn was booming, a thatch was on fire, and everyone was carrying buckets of water from the nearby cove. "Well, that could have gone better" the Doctor admitted, as he and the Corsair sat on barrels and watched the anarchy unfold.
Heidi lay spread –eagled on the ground nearby. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his head. "Have a nice nap?" the Corsair asked sarcastically. Just then, Clara and Emily came over; they'd wanted to help put out the fire, but the rest of the village had already almost doused the flames. Emily got the impression this wasn't the first time they'd had to put out a blaze, accidental or otherwise.
"What happened?" asked Clara, gesturing to the Viking still sitting on the ground.
"The Big Bang, dinosaurs, bipeds, and a mounting sense of futility" the Doctor replied vaguely.
"If you want specifics, though; Einarr, aka Chuckles, accidentally hit Lofty over the head with his sword" the Corsair explained further, "Luckily, Lofty had a helmet on so he wasn't killed, but there was still a bit of blood involved. Heidi saw it and…did that" he sighed, as Heidi promptly fainted again, "Except the first time, he knocked a lit torch onto some hay, and fire spooked a horse, which kicked open a gate, which let the cows escape…and so and so forth. I'm really starting to see why the Mire didn't bother trying to kidnap these guys".
/
Later that night, the Vikings held a grand feast in the Meeting Hall, as part of a tradition to bring good fortune upon themselves from the gods. The Doctor and the others were guests of honour, plied with tankards of ale, plates of fish, chicken and mutton, wild potatoes and onions. It was actually quite delicious, but as the night wore on and the drunken villagers grew more rowdy, all but one of the six time travellers sneaked away from the festivities for some fresh air and quiet.
Clara found the Doctor and Emily standing together outside the Hall, the Time Lord's arm around his daughter's shoulders. Clara stepped up beside them and looked up at the clouds; thunder rolled out of them, a strange clanging thunder that made her think of giants smashing war-hammers onto mountains. "Weird sounding thunder" she commented quietly, as if reluctant to disturb the peace as much as the feast and the thunder were.
"Um, it's not thunder, Clara" said Emily, "It's the Mire forging weapons. Dad says they want us to hear them".
"Well?" Clara looked at the Doctor expectantly.
"Well, Heidi faints at the mention of blood, not just the sight any more. He's actually upgraded his phobia. Chuckles"-
"His name's Einarr, dad" Emily interjected.
"No, it's Chuckles" the Doctor insisted stubbornly, "He questions every single order you give him, which is going to be a little bit difficult, a little bit tricky, in the heat of battle".
"You know, we're still waiting to hear what your real plan is" Clara remarked, nodding to Emily as well.
Emily looked up at her father and added trustingly, "You always have a plan, dad. Or at the very least a 'thing' – they're like plans, but with more greatness" she grinned.
He sighed and admitted, "Teaching them to fight, that's the only plan I've got".
"Turning them into fighters?" Clara frowned, "That's not like you".
"Yeah, I used to believe that too".
"You still should" say Emily, "Cos it's not you. You're not a warrior, dad, that's why the Mire didn't kidnap you. Why do you want to be like them?" she asked, not accusing but simply curious.
A rare, genuine smile crossed the Doctor's lips as he looked at his daughter, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Oh, darling; I'm glad you still believe in me".
Emily beamed, and Clara smiled softly. "I still believe in you, Doctor" she murmured, "And I know you can do better than this. You must know that it doesn't matter how well you train them, it's not going to make a difference".
"But they won't leave" Emily sighed, "We tried to persuade some of them, remember? They want to fight for their home".
"They'll die fighting with honour" the Doctor added solemnly, "To a Viking, that's all the difference in the world".
"A good death?" Clara frowned, "Is that the best they can hope for?"
"A good death is the one thing anyone can hope for, unless you happen to be immortal" the Doctor countered.
Just then, Ashildr emerged from the Hall, nearly walking into Clara by accident. "Sorry" she quickly apologised, for both the blunder…and everything else her foolish pride had caused.
Clara smiled reassuringly and replied, "No problem".
"Goodnight, Ashildr" Emily smiled at her. Ashildr smiled back and walked off into the torch lit gloom.
"Oh, yes, night" the Doctor called after her, when his daughter nudged him. "Happy now?" he asked her.
Emily smirked a bit. "You've taken a liking to Ashildr, haven't you, dad?"
"No, I haven't".
"It's okay if you have" Clara commented, "She made a mistake, but she's really nice. You should fight for her".
"I don't even know her".
"Why don't you fight for me, then?" asked Emily, "Or mum. You always say you'd fight for us. I don't mean 'fight', fight…just try harder. There's always a way out, you always said that too".
"Oh joy, I'm being lectured by my daughter and companion. You two need to get hobbies…not boyfriends, though".
"Who better to lecture you?" Clara countered, "And besides, you guys are my hobby. Emily's right; you need to try harder, Doctor, think harder; because otherwise, tomorrow is going to be a bloodbath".
"These people all died hundreds of years before you were born" he pointed out.
"That doesn't mean they have to die now, like this" Emily reminded him. She gave a frustrated sigh and admitted, "I wish I could think of how to save them, but I've no idea how to stop something like the Mire. That's why we need you, dad".
"Yes, you do need me" he agreed; for a brief moment, Emily and Clara thought they'd won, that they'd convinced him. "I have a duty of care. I ought to take a longboat and bring you all safely back to the TARDIS, and let history, or nature, or time take its course. That's what I ought to do".
"Doing what you ought to is boring".
"And we would never want you to do that".
"What if something happens to you?" he asked, "I can't stop thinking about that".
"Well, stop thinking about us, and start thinking about them, because you're missing something" Clara insisted.
"What?"
"How you're going to win" she explained, "You always miss it, right up until the last minute. So put down your sword, stop playing soldier and look for it. Start winning, Doctor. It's what you're good at" she insisted, before turning to Emily and suggesting, "Shall we find your mum, see if she has any ideas?"
"Yeah, okay"; Emily reached up on tiptoes to press a brief kiss to her dad's cheek. Then the two young women hurried away, leaving a pensive Doctor alone with his thoughts. A few minutes later, he walked in the opposite direction, towards where Ashildr had gone.
/
Whilst one conversation carried on outside the Meeting Hall, another was being held between Romana and Flavia, in one of the dwellings that the villagers had set aside for their guests. The accommodations were somewhat Spartan, but it was better than being chained up in a cell. Romana came looking for her fellow Time Lady, finding her sitting on one of the cots, reading a book she must have tucked into her coat – the Doctor wasn't the only one of them with bigger on the inside pockets.
"Are you alright?" she asked, sitting down on the cot opposite Flavia, who gave her a quizzical look. Romana clarified, "I've been meaning to talk to you. I just can't help noticing that things are still rather awkward between you and, uh…" Romana trailed off awkwardly when Flavia frowned at her.
"What do you expect?" Flavia muttered, staring down at her book without seeing the words on the page.
Romana winced apologetically. "I'm sorry; I promise I'm not trying to pressure you. If you need time, then you need time…I just don't want you to put it off for so long that it just gets harder".
"Put what off, exactly?"
"…Talking to the Corsair" said Romana; she'd thought it was obvious. "I know it's the last thing you want to do"-
"It is".
"Yes, but do you really want to have this…elephant there whenever you're in a room together?"
"Why not?" she shrugged disinterestedly, "He seems intent on pretending there is no elephant".
"All the more reason why you should bring his attention to it" Romana countered. She frowned slightly and couldn't help but ask, "Is that why you haven't discussed it with him, because you're waiting for him to come and talk to you?"
Flavia looked up from her book at that point. "Romana, if the Corsair wanted to discuss the elephant in the room with me, I'm sure he would have done so already. He could have done so right after he created it, but he didn't".
"He might be waiting for the same reason you are, though".
"Why are you so being so insistent about this?"
"Well, because I care about you, of course! I hate to see you burying something that's hurting you".
There was a long and telling pause. "I'm not hurt" Flavia said finally, "Besides, the Corsair and I have had plenty of falling outs before. Every other time, we just stayed out of each other's way until it all blew over. Why should this be any different?"
"You know why" Romana told her, "What happened between you two; that's not something that can just 'blow over'. You can't put off discussing it forever".
"No offence, Romana, but I don't think you're really one to talk. You and the Doctor hardly ever fight; that man worships the ground you walk on".
"None taken…and we do fight, actually. We just tend to do it in private…and we patch things up quickly. We'll argue, tell each other exactly what we think, and go back a day or so later to discuss things more calmly. That's what's worrying me about this, Flavia; I hate to think you might be forming a grudge against the Corsair, especially since the two of you are usually so close".
"Close?" asked Flavia, with an incredulous stare, "I wouldn't call us bickering and him driving me up the wall most of the time 'being close'".
"Even best friends can bicker" Romana smiled, "And I don't think you bicker as much as you say. Usually you're just rolling your eyes at his comments and really, we all do that. Besides, that isn't what I mean. You and he work well together; you might disagree, but you still manage to get the task done. Be honest, in all the years we've been travelling, all the years he stuck with you when he could have easily gone off on his own every time…has he ever let you down before?"
Once again, Flavia was silent for a long time, staring at the same spot on the page and rubbing her arm uncomfortably. Romana waited patiently, and at last, Flavia reluctantly admitted "No…he's never done anything like this before…which really makes it worse, you know".
"I think maybe you're looking at this the wrong way".
"How do you mean?"
Romana breathed out slowly, thinking of how best to word it. "I'm not saying he wasn't wrong; he shouldn't have told you he was attracted to you and then just left like he did...that being said, if he kept this a secret for so long, he must have had a good reason".
"I already told you his reason. He thought I was going to say no, so he never bothered".
"Do you really think that's the full story?" Romana responded, "And if it is, think about it; he kept his feelings secret, for centuries, because he thought you wouldn't be interested. He respects you, Flavia, and he kept your relationship platonic even though he wanted to take it further".
Flavia shifted. "I…well, yes…to be fair; I suppose he does have a sense of decency and…honour...i still wish he hadn't told me anything. I mean…how am I supposed to deal with news like that? What am I supposed to think?"
"Well…what do you think?" asked Romana, "How do you feel about it?"
"I just said I didn't know" Flavia pointed out, before sighing, "If you must know…at first I was just shocked. I still am…I suppose I am a little bit flattered. After all, it's nice to hear someone finds you attractive…I feel uncertain, because it was so out of nowhere…I mean, he'd said before that he thought I was pretty, but I had no idea he was attracted to me…like that…which is part of the problem, you see.
"After all these years of being friends, to find out that he's been harbouring this…" Flavia blushed, and then shook her head. "Oh, honestly, I don't know why I'm being coy, we're both adults. I suppose what I'm trying to say is…hmm...perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should be talking about this with him" she admitted at last.
Romana smiled in relief. "I'm glad to hear that; do you want to talk to him now, or-?"
"Oh, no, not now" Flavia shook her head quickly, "There's still some things I need to work out…you've given me a lot to think about" she smiled weakly, before adding, "But I promise, and I mean it this time, that as soon as this whole sorry business with the Mire is over, and I've worked out my own thoughts and feelings…I'll talk to him the first chance I get".
The two of them stood up and embraced; there was a knock at the door, and Emily came in, followed by Clara. "Hi mum, hi Flavia" she greeted, coming over to give her a mother a hug. "We've been trying to get dad to stop playing around and think of a plan, but Clara reckons we should work on a back-up just in case he spends too long brooding" she explained.
Romana chuckled and suggested, "Okay, but why don't we talk about it outside? Flavia just needs some time to herself…oh, but Emily, do you mind rooming with her for the night?"
"No, mum".