Doctor Who: The Masque of the Mandragora (12 page)

A few moments later a grinning lion’s head peered round a broken column, and the Doctor stepped out. He glanced quickly round the cavernous chamber to make sure he was alone. Then, laying aside the lion’s head. he unwound the coil of wire and began scrabbling about in the dirt at the base of the altar.

In the palace the state rooms were now full of guests as the masque began. The visiting dignitaries were easy to pick out in their sumptuous costumes, each with a clutch of courtiers swaggering and prancing around them in exaggerated fashion. Every guest wore a mask or disguise of some kind and there was much chaffing and banter as young gallants tried to guess the identity of their pretty partners.

After one or two lively opening dances the musicians delivered a roll on the drums and through the large double doors tottered a motley clad jester on tall wooden stilts. There were ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ of delight as he wobbled about the floor, towering over the frightened lady courtiers. Then with a shout he leapt from the stilts and somersaulted up onto a trestled table. Plucking three lighted torches from the wall, he began to juggle with them high in the air.

Giuliano looked on from a raised dais at the far end of the room, a faint smile on his lips. He was doing his best to be outwardly calm and courteous to his visitors, but his thoughts were on the hidden danger that lay outside. As he nodded politely to the Duke and Duchess of Milan he caught sight of Marco anxiously pushing towards him through the crowd.

‘Sire!’

‘What is it?’

‘I have heard a report from the guards. The brethren...’

Giuliano hushed his companion and drew him to one side. ‘What of them?’

‘They are all round the outside of the palace. It is as though they are waiting for something.’

Giuliano looked puzzled. ‘What could it be—a signal?’

Marco shrugged. ‘Perhaps. They are just standing silently in the shadows.’

The Prince broke off to applaud the juggler. ‘Is Hieronymous with them?’

‘He has not been seen, my lord.’

‘I don’t like the smell of it, Marco.’ Giuliano gestured towards the floor. ‘Even our guests sense that something is wrong. See how quiet they are.’

Marco followed his gaze and it was true. Small knots of guests, close advisers of visiting Heads of State, were muttering quietly to one another and casting anxious looks about the room.

Marco grasped the young Duke’s arm encouragingly. ‘Giuliano, take heart. Our walls are thick and solid and the guards well-trained—a match for any in the land. At least we have your uncle to thank for that.’

‘You think we have nothing to fear?’

‘I think by dawn Hieronymous will have realised his mistake. He and his followers will leave San Martino to search for easier pickings elsewhere.’

‘I hope you are right,’ replied Giuliano but he seemed unconvinced.

There was a cry of amazement from the guests clustered about the juggler as he reached the finale of his act, thrusting a blazing torch into his mouth without apparent harm. Giuliano rose to his feet and led the applause. Marco followed suit and the two of them descended from the dais onto the dance floor.

‘Sire, if needs be,’ continued Marco, ‘we can hold out here for a month. And long before that the armies of neighbouring states would come to our help.’

Giuliano acknowledged his friend’s counsel then smiled and bowed to a pretty young lady who approached. She wore a beautiful satin gown of exquisite pearl grey and a filigree silver mask covered her eyes. Giuliano was especially taken with the delicate nape of her neck, her lustrous hair, and found himself strongly attracted to this mysterious stranger.

‘Have you seen the Doctor?’ she asked, and Giuliano realised with a shock it was the Doctor’s companion, Sarah.

‘No,’ he answered endeavouring to regain his composure.

Sarah seemed oblivious to the effect she had caused. ‘He should be here by now,’ she said impatiently. ‘It must be nearly nine.’

‘It was eight of the evening when I toured the guards,’ answered Marco.

‘This waiting, not knowing what’s happening. is worse than being with him.’ Sarah scoured the dancing throng but the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. As she stood on the edge of the dancers a Florentine gallant stepped forward and made a low bow before her.

‘Who, me?’ responded Sarah, looking round to see if she was mistaken. The gallant bowed again, even lower this time. Sarah shrugged and took his hand. As the young gallant minced off with his prize Sarah threw Giuliano a desperate look. The handsome young Duke raised an eyebrow and smiled.

As Sarah whirled elegantly about the dance floor she caught sight of the hideous features of the entertainers standing motionless in the corners of the room, the goat, the oxen, and the clown, and for some reason the sight of them sent an icy chill down her spine.

The Doctor was crouched low by a corner of the altar finishing off his work. He had run the wire right round the base of the altar, in contact with it, to form a circuit. From this he had led off a number of ‘spokes’ to the area immediately surrounding the altar and camouflaged the whole skein of wires with earth and stones. The remaining wire he attached to the chain jerkin beneath his coat, leaving the other end free to trail on the ground. Then, satisfied, he leant casually against the altar and dusted his hands.

He had his back to the hidden exit. Instinct told him that Hieronymous would return, before the final assault, to gain inspiration and strength of purpose from the sacred stone. And in that short time the Doctor knew he had to make his move, draw Hieronymous and the Helix Energy into a deadly and decisive confrontation, or else all was lost.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, he heard the sound of someone picking their way through the ruins towards him. The muscles in the Doctor’s face tensed but he kept his relaxed posture.

‘You profane the sacred stone.’

The voice was deathly, menacing, war-like.

The Doctor turned casually. ‘Hello there! Had a hard day in the catacombs?’

‘You profane the sacred stone!’

‘Come now! You know who I am.’ The Doctor spread his arms in a friendly gesture. ‘You can drop all that bosh about stones and profanity. Just be your natural horrid self.’

Hieronymous halted about twelve feet away. The eye-slits of his mask seemed ablaze in the dark shadows of the cavern. ‘why have you come here, Time Lord?’

‘Well I had no choice, you see,’ replied the Doctor, deliberately fudging the issue.

‘Had it not been you, there would have been other travellers drawn into the Mandragora Helix. Earth had to be possessed.’ The purple gloved hands reached out in a clenching, grasping motion. ‘Unchecked, man’s curiosity might lead him away from this planet until, ultimately, even the galaxy itself may not contain him! We of Mandragora will not permit a rival power within our dominion! ‘

‘Pity,’ said the Doctor, ‘because I can’t allow you to interfere with Earth’s progress.’

‘You arrogant dolt! ‘ Hieronymous advanced threateningly. ‘How dare you oppose the might of Mandragora!’

‘I’m afraid it’s part of a Time Lord’s job to insist on justice for all species.’

‘Then you will be swept aside like the dirt that you are.’

‘Really?’ The Doctor backed away carefully down the altar steps. He knew that any second now Hieronymous could point his finger and the lethal bolts would be unleashed, and he wanted to be in the correct position.

Suddenly, Hieronymous rushed towards him, the horrible, contorted visage illuminated by the red-hot energy force within.

‘Die, Doctor! ‘ he screamed and, raising his right arm, fired a bolt of Helix Energy straight at the Doctor.

There was a bright flash and the Doctor felt a massive jolt in his chest like a powerful electric shock. He staggered backwards but managed to regain his balance.

‘Time Lords don’t die so easily,’ he gasped through gritted teeth.

Hieronymous moved in closer for the kill.

‘We shall crush you! ‘ A second bolt sped from his fingertips and slammed into the Doctor’s body.

The Doctor twisted with the pain but remained standing. He managed a mocking grin. ‘Not doing too well, are you?’

Hieronymous hissed with rage and another burst of Helix Energy stabbed the Doctor’s chest. This time the pain was excruciating and he fell to one knee. The chainmail jerkin was taking the force of the impact but growing red-hot in the process and burning into the Doctor’s flesh. The Doctor’s right hand groped for the wire running to the ground by his side. It too was fiercely hot and on the point of melting. Once that snapped the massive charge of Helix Energy would no longer be ‘earthed’ and the next bolt would travel directly through the Doctor’s body, burning him to a frazzle as it did so.

The Doctor raised his head and looked towards Hieronymous. Surely the Helix Energy was beginning to dwindle? His whole gamble rested on the assumption of a limited, finite amount within each of the brethren. Exhaust it and nothing would remain.

Hieronymous raised his arm a third time and pointed at the Doctor. ‘Now die! Now!’

A blue flash of lightning crackled from his fingers but this time not so powerfully, and the impact barely jolted the Doctor. He struggled to his feet and presented his chest squarely towards the advancing Hieronymous. As he did so he felt the earth-wire snap. This was it. He would have to absorb the force of the next bolt himself—or die in the attempt.

‘Come on then,’ braved the Doctor. Hieronymous raised his arms to the roof and cried out in beseeching tones. ‘Mandragora! Help me! ‘ Then, swinging round for the final time he aimed his crooked fingers at the Doctor’s chest and let out a piercing vengeful howl. The Doctor closed his eyes as the flash of blue spat through the air towards him.

Outside the palace. San Martino lay still and deserted beneath the clear night air. The strong moon light, which earlier had bathed the narrow cobbled streets in a pale silver glow, was now fading as the giant shadow of the Earth crept across the lunar landscape.

Occasionally the sound of music and dancing carried across the rooftops, like distant fairy revels; while beneath the palace walls stood scores of black-hooded brethren, silent and expectant, the shadowy harbingers of death and destruction.

Inside, the masque was in full swing. The guests seemed to have forgotten their earlier anxieties and the wine and music flowed faster and faster. Sarah was even beginning to master the complicated dances, particularly when Giuliano was her partner. But, unlike Cinderella, she kept a firm eye on the clock.

‘Have you seen the Doctor?’ she panted as Giuliano took hold of her for another gavotte.

‘Not yet.’

‘It’s nearly nine. Something must have happened to him.’

Giuliano gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘He may be already here. If he’s wearing his costume...’

‘He’d have let us know.’ Sarah did a graceful pirouette and at that precise moment caught sight of a lion mask staring at her from the far end of the room behind the dais. She broke off from Giuliano and pushed her way towards it. ‘Doctor! What happened? Where have you been?’

The costumed figure gave her a mock salute and whirled away behind a column and into an ante-chamber.

Sarah caught up with him. ‘Stop playing the fool! Tell me what happened! ‘ She stopped herself and stared at the lion’s head. There was something different about it. Perhaps she had made a mistake. ‘Doctor, it is you...?’

The lion’s head remained motionless, it’s fanged jaws gaping at her in mock derision. She stretched out her hand and quickly pulled the mask off. The shock of what she saw made her scream in terror. No face, no head, nothing, except a dazzling iridescent sphere of light, framed by the cowl of the brethren.

The figure pushed her aside and rushed into the ballroom. From a commanding position on the dais it raised a gloved hand above the heads of the dancing throng and cried out, ‘Kill, brothers! Kill!’

There was a curious, unreal silence as the music ceased and everybody looked round. Then pandemonium broke out. People ran in all directions, screeching and yelling with fear. But as the crowd jostled and fought to escape, masked figures within their midst turned upon them with bolts of fire. The goat-head, the oxen, and the grinning clown threw off their headpieces to reveal the familiar cowled shapes of the brethren beneath. Mercilessly, they raised their fingers to shoot blinding, sizzling shafts into the screaming bodies round them. Sarah saw her Florentine gallant hurled to the floor and in seconds the air was thick with the smell of burning flesh. As servants and princes alike dashed for the exits still more brethren poured into the room. In horror Sarah realised they had been let into the palace by their fellows on a given signal. A total massacre seemed imminent.

Suddenly a voice rang out above the din. ‘Stop! Stop, brothers!’

Sarah whirled round. On the raised dais stood the commanding form of Hieronymous, in purple cloak and golden mask. He raised his arms above the cowed revellers. The brethren turned, confused.

‘The final sacrifices must be made in our temple! Bring the victims of Mandragora down by the temple.’

There was a moment’s uncertainty and then Sarah was roughly grabbed by arms of steel and herded into the centre of the room together with the rest. She found herself next to a dazed Giuliano.

He shook his head mournfully. ‘The brethren. We have been tricked, betrayed.’

‘Silence!’ ordered the figure of Hieronymous. ‘Go below, all of you!’

The guests were quickly surrounded by the brethren who made them file out of the palace and into the night towards the ruined temple. As she stumbled over the cobbles in the cold air Sarah wondered despairingly what had befallen the Doctor. Although she hoped against hope, in her heart she knew he must already be dead.