Doctor Who and the Crusaders (11 page)

He spurred his horse with his heels suddenly with a shout of evil joy, nearly pulling Barbara off her mount, and the two horses galloped down the hill towards Lydda.

One might have imagined that the Doctor and his ward, Vicki, would be having a reasonably pleasant time in King Richard’s palace at Jaffa, and so it was for a short time after Ian rode out with his small escort towards the direction of the Sultan’s headquarters at Ramlah. Richard liked richness around him, and rarely took his pleasures singly. About him were gathered all the men of wit and good conversation available and the Chamberlain saw that a steady supply of entertainers provided as many different forms of entertainment as existed, all for the diversion of the court. Meats and vegetables, fruits and nuts, wines and delicacies of every conceivable kind poured out of the visiting ships in the little harbour to grace the tables of the King.

For, uneasy and of no fixed duration though it might be, peace was on hand. The armies licked their wounds and rested their tired muscles, turning their minds to their homes and families, their businesses, trades and crafts.

The Chamberlain was the busiest man by far. Administrator of the King’s court, he was tall, with an imposing manner, and could deliver a look so cold and haughty that even the wilfully disobedient shuddered in awe and tried to mend their ways. Rising with the sun each day, he interviewed his various lieutenants and dealt with the problems they brought to him quickly and precisely. A system of runners was always in operation between himself and wherever the King happened to be in the palace, so that he could leave what he was doing at any moment and deal immediately with any request or order
Richard might require he supervise.

As one might guess, he possessed a phenomenal memory. Frequently, he was called upon to produce a certain entertainer who had pleased Richard or Joanna, or one of the nobles at the court; one who had not performed for some days. Instantly, the Chamberlain delved into the recesses of his mind, either knowing where such a person was to be found or who would know. By far the greatest feat of memory he could claim was the record of the wardrobe of the palace, for he was often asked to provide clothes for visitors whose entire possessions had been stolen, quite apart from maintaining the standard of dress necessary to the servants of the King. Thus, he always kept a good supply of clothes of all descriptions ready for any emergency and because he was the keeper of the Household Purse, he watched each and every article with care and devotion.

He was certain that the clothes worn by the three new friends of the King were from his own wardrobe. He was not the sort of man who made mistakes but neither was he unfair enough to accuse without absolute proof. He descended to the rooms where the clothes were kept and made a diligent search, eventually satisfying himself that the clothes worn by the Doctor, Ian and Vicki (although he thought of her, of course, as a page-boy) were indeed identical to those now missing from his collection. But, again, he decided against facing them with an accusation before he had investigated the matter properly. His search of the wardrobe revealed other articles to be missing and his alert mind began to put a simple two to a simpler two: a thief with light fingers – a sale and a profit. Thus he undertook a tour of all the clothing shops in Jaffa.

Jaffa was not so large, nor the Chamberlain so fainthearted that such an unenviable task should worry him. The
Chamberlain covered every stall of every shop in every street, inevitably coming upon Ben Daheer’s establishment.

Almost immediately, he spotted a pile of clothes of English design and let his hands wander over them idly as he talked to the shopkeeper, satisfying himself that they were, indeed, the property of the palace.

By the force of his considerable personality, the Chamberlain persuaded Ben Daheer to accompany him, pretending that he could arrange for the shopkeeper’s talent for making clothes to be brought to the King’s attention. It took no urging for Ben Daheer to order his eldest son to watch his establishment while he clutched some samples of cloth under his arm and hurried to keep up with his new benefactor. The Chamberlain led him into the palace, through several corridors, finally stopping in front of a heavy door. He knocked upon it, while the man beside him straightened his clothes and wiped the perspiration from his face, thinking he was being taken directly to the King. He was nervous and glad of the Chamberlain’s hand on his arm. A servant opened the door.

The Doctor, who was enjoying a meal with Vicki, looked up with a faint air of annoyance at being disturbed. He heard the Chamberlain order the servant from the room, watched him close the door himself and lean against it. Ben Daheer bowed nervously, realizing he wasn’t in the presence of Royalty and wondering where he had met the white-haired man before.

‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’ asked the Doctor. The Chamberlain advanced into the room, bringing Ben Daheer with him.

‘Have you ever seen this man before?’

‘Yes, I was trying to remember when,’ replied the shopkeeper.

‘He came to your shop?’

‘Yes. Ah, yes, now I remember. He searched among my cloth but found nothing that suited him.’

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed and he regarded the Chamberlain carefully. It was quite clear where the man was aiming, but the Doctor kept his peace for the moment and signalled to Vicki to keep well in the background, although he could see she was bursting with questions.

‘Did you miss any of your possessions after this man had visited you?’

‘Why, yes. Some clothes had gone.’ Ben Daheer glanced about him nervously, remembering that the things he had missed had been stolen clothes he had acquired from Thatcher, the palace servant. ‘Just a few miserable garments, Your Eminence,’ he said indifferently. The Chamberlain walked across to the Doctor, plucked at the sleeve nearest to him and held it out.

‘Clothes like this?’

The Doctor pulled his arm away sharply and stood up so rapidly that his chair crashed backwards to the floor.

‘This is quite insufferable!’ he raged. ‘How dare you burst in here with these insulting accusations.’

‘Clothes like these were stolen from the palace…’

‘But how,’ interrupted the Doctor, ‘do you know these are the same? I mean exactly. They may
resemble
yours.’

‘I am quite certain the clothes you are wearing belong to the palace wardrobe. We keep a large supply here, for travellers may not be able to transport wearing apparel. It is my duty to see those who have audience with the King are properly attired.’

‘So you carry a large stock of clothes, do you? How large? How many items?’

‘That is beside the point,’ replied the Chamberlain angrily. The Doctor darted out a finger, pointing it straight into the Chamberlain’s face.

‘It is
just
the point, my friend. You have in your palace wardrobe shoes, buckles, stockings, cloaks, belts, hats, caps, coats, tunics, leggings, vestments, capes – all in different colours, sizes and designs. You dare to stand here and tell me you’re
certain
these garments belong to you!’

The Chamberlain nodded but the Doctor had seen the momentary indecision on his face and followed up his advantage.

‘Where is the mark on these clothes proving they are yours?’ he said sharply. ‘Where is your bill of sale?’

The Chamberlain opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, realizing he was on unsure ground. The Doctor’s manner softened suddenly. He was an eminently fair man and knew perfectly well he was in the wrong, even if the present difficulties had been brought about by Barbara’s abduction.

‘I will tell you what happened,’ murmured the Doctor, ushering the Chamberlain to a chair. ‘My… page and I met a rough fellow in Jaffa from whom we bought these simple garments. Our own clothes were in a terrible state. Now whether this uncouth man had stolen the clothes from you first is another matter. Have you been missing things from the wardrobe?’

‘Yes, without a doubt,’ agreed the Chamberlain.

‘Then someone in your service at the palace is a pilferer. Someone who has access to the wardrobe. Of course, if you are certain these clothes I am wearing belong to you, I shall see they are returned to you immediately.’

Vicki breathed an inward sigh of relief as the Chamberlain’s manner became much warmer, mentally blessing the Doctor for wriggling out of the awkward situation.

‘Of course, my page and I have no clothes here,’ the Doctor went on, ‘and also, it seems to me, this honest merchant has been involved without much proper cause. Or profit.’

Ben Daheer, who had been following the conversation with increasing nervousness, terrified he would be revealed as a buyer of stolen goods, perked up his head at the sound of the word profit and his face brightened visibly.

‘Since we need clothes,’ the Doctor continued persuasively, ‘couldn’t we employ the merchant to make us outfits?’

The Chamberlain, also conscious he had brought Ben Daheer to the palace on a false pretext, immediately agreed. The Doctor smiled.

‘And what do you think he should be paid?’ he asked pleasantly. The Chamberlain rubbed his chin reflectively.

‘Well, well,’ said the Doctor, before he could reply, ‘I’ll leave it to you. You pay him whatever you think.’

The Chamberlain stared at the Doctor.

‘I? Pay the merchant?’

‘You are the Keeper of the Household Purse, are you not?’

Once again, the Doctor produced a battery of argument to support his plan, and eventually the Chamberlain held up his hands wearily then drew out a pouch from his belt. The Doctor took it from his hand, extracted six gold pieces from it and handed them to Ben Daheer, returning the half-empty purse to the defeated Chamberlain. Ben Daheer rubbed his hands over the coins in glee and was just about to launch into a long speech of gratitude when the Doctor cut him short.

‘Let us not say anything more until you have cut and stitched our clothes. There! This tiresome business has come to a happy conclusion for all of us.’

He turned and grinned at the Chamberlain’s long face.

‘I know, I know. You think that six gold pieces are too much for a single outfit each for my page and myself. But be contented, my dear sir. A man in my position needs all kinds of things to wear. I shall see your six gold pieces are used in the proper way. Besides costumes for our immediate use, this honest fellow and I will see that I am dressed for any occasion.’

‘My Lord, it is obvious to me that you are extremely important,’ said Ben Daheer, ‘but to do you justice I might well exceed the six gold pieces you have generously showered on me.’

The Doctor waved a hand grandly and Vicki turned away to hide her smile.

‘Whatever the sum is, my good man,’ he said airily, ‘the Chamberlain will meet it.’

Before the Chamberlain could argue, servants in the corridors started up a cry of his name. A servant knocked at the door and hurried in. Ben Daheer turned and then gasped in surprise.

‘It was him! He is your thief. His name is Thatcher.’

Thatcher, the culprit, gave a shout of terror as the Chamberlain ran after him. The Doctor put his arm around the shopkeeper’s shoulders.

‘Well, well. Now that we have that little matter settled, let us discuss the clothes you shall make for my page and myself.’

None of them saw the Princess Joanna walk past the door, hesitate for a second and then stand in the doorway.

‘You will make us some fine clothes, my friend,’ the Doctor was saying. Vicki made a face.

‘Must I go on pretending to be a page, Doctor? Can’t I be a girl again? The dresses are so attractive.’

‘A pretty deception,’ murmured the Princess.

In the silence that followed she walked nearer to them, as all three bowed, looking at the Doctor seriously.

‘Why have you deceived us all?’

‘Your Highness, this is a dangerous land, and my ward is as young as I am old. I beg of you to remember that of the four in our party only one was young and virile and capable of any trial of strength. It is, I confess, a trick – but one intended for the protection of a young and innocent person, not to gain profit or favour.’

The Doctor bowed as he completed his speech and Joanna smiled at him, half in admiration and half in reproof.

‘You are a good advocate, sir, and I shall not persist in this matter. But see that the merchant here dresses your ward in more of a feminine fashion. Her style of clothes,’ she added ironically, ‘might upset the even tenor of our way of life if it became known the boy was a girl. Legs as slim and straight were meant to be covered, not emphasized.’

Vicki restrained any ideas that sprang into her head of describing other fashions which occurred to her, in times
long after the Princess lived. She simply kissed the hand that Joanna held out in affection, glad to be rid of a costume she detested.

‘Go with this trader,’ said Joanna gently, ‘and see that he designs good fashions for you. You shall be company for me, sing and learn to play an instrument.’

Joanna watched Vicki and Ben Daheer as they bowed and left the room, then she moved to a chair and sat down. The Doctor gestured to some wine and a platter of fruit, and when she refused asked if she would object if he poured himself some of the wine.