'You should have let me go in there,
Ian,' Stirling muttered, his face white with shock.
'We were too late,' Ian argued, his
hand covering his mouth as he felt the urge to vomit overwhelm him.
'Robespierre is finished now.'
Stirling nodded grimly. 'Tyranny is
dead, long live tyranny. They are taking him to the Conciergerie . .
. We shall have to hurry.'
Ian stared after the jubilant captors.
'It's up to the Doctor now,' he muttered apprehensively.
All at once there was a tremendous clap
of thunder. Outside the windows, the sky had darkened again.
Opposite the main gates of the
Conciergerie, the Doctor and Barbara were pressed into the shadows
under a jutting porch which afforded them some shelter from the storm
as well as protection from the gathering crowds in the street. Behind
them, the deserted building had been boarded up and glass from broken
windows littered the ground.
'There's going to be quite a storm,'
muttered the Doctor, glancing at the forbidding black clouds banked
up over the dangerously tense city.
Barbara drew her shawl more closely
around her, not to keep warm, but as a token defence. 'You can feel
the electricity in the air,' she agreed, eyeing the jostling, excited
crowds that had begun to collect as soon as the rumours of
Robespierre's fate had started to spread.
A searing flash of lightning was
accompanied simultaneously by an ear-splitting crash of thunder.
'It's directly overhead,' remarked the
Doctor, bracing himself for the ordeal ahead of him. 'We've waited
long enough. Jules should have arrived with the transport when I get
back with Susan. Will you be all right, Barbara?'
Barbara swallowed nervously. 'Yes, of
course I will,' she lied bravely. 'Go and find Susan, Doctor.'
The Doctor smiled gravely and adjusted
his plumed hat to a more authoritative angle. 'I'll try, my dear,
I'll try ... ' he promised, moving out cautiously into the street
and barging his way through the crowd to rap on the gate with his
stick.
The gaoler, who had been sharing a
celebratory drink with a couple of guards in his alcove, rose slowly
to his feet gawping in amazement as the Doctor strode up to the table
unannounced.
'You! You came back!' he stuttered,
wiping his mouth with his mucky sleeve.
The Doctor smiled condescendingly. 'I
see that you did not expect me, gaoler.'
The startled gaoler rattled his keys
expectantly. 'No, I didn't but I'm glad you're here because I've got
a score to settle with you ... ' he growled.
The Doctor threw back his head and
stared coldly down his nose at the belching, befuddled fool. 'So you
have not yet heard the news?' he declared.
The gaoler snorted derisively. 'Who
hasn't? Robespierre's been ditched.'
The Doctor nodded solemnly. 'And
Lemaitre's been shot while trying to escape,' he said harshly.
The gaoler hesitated, screwing up his
bulbous face like a wrinkled melon. 'Lemaitre shot ....?' he croaked
uneasily.
The Doctor's plumes nodded
impressively. 'Shot. And now we are going to deal with his
accomplices,' he announced in a hard voice.
The gaoler shook his head vigorously as
if trying to shake the drink out of his brain. 'Who are you?' he
asked tentatively.
'Exactly,' rapped the Doctor. He walked
round the swaying drunkard, poking him in the stomach with the end of
his walking stick. 'Why do you imagine such a high-ranking official
as myself came to Paris? I was a vital participant in the plan to
oust the tyrant Robespierre,' he explained in a severe, hectoring
tone.
The gaoler fiddled sheepishly with his
keys. 'I ... I didn't know, Citizen ... ' he cringed, all his
swaggering bravado gone.
The Doctor slashed at the table with
his stick, sending papers, mugs and bottles flying. 'No, you didn't,
did you!' he shouted. 'And that's why you didn't expect me to come
back, isn't it! You thought you'd be able to get away with it!'
The trembling gaoler glanced
apprehensively at the two soldiers who were staring open-mouthed at
the Doctor. 'Get away with what, Citizen?' he whimpered pathetically.
'With being Lemaitre's accomplice!' the
Doctor shouted ruthlessly. 'Guards! Seize the villain!'
Startled out of their wits, the two
young militiamen each grabbed one of the cowering gaoler's arms.
The Doctor continued to pace round and
round them, slapping his stick violently on the table. 'You were
Lemaitre's accomplice, weren't you!' he stormed in an outraged tone.
'You assisted him in carrying out his treacherous crimes!'
The gaoler was on the brink of tears
now. He winced as the Doctor's accusations were reinforced by the
thunderstorm overhead. 'But Citizen, I only carried out the orders I
was given ... ' he pleaded.
The Doctor stopped in front of him and
thrust his harsh features right into the gaoler's sweating face.
'Only carrying out orders?' he echoed contemptuously. 'That is the
cowardly cliche trotted out by inhuman sadists throughout history,'
he hissed, his eyes burning with utter disdain. 'I was here,
remember? I saw you conniving with Lemaitre the whole time.'
'But I wasn't ... I wasn't, Citizen . .
. ' the gaoler stuttered, really frightened now.
'Wasn't what?'
The quaking bully hesitated. 'Con ...
Whatever you said I was,' he squawked.
The Doctor paused dramatically. 'Was it
not you who betrayed me to him? Betrayed me?' he accused menacingly.
The gaoler's courage rallied a little.
'Well, you did hit me on the head, didn't you,' he pointed out. 'And
how was I to know Lemaitre was a traitor ... And that you, Citizen,
were ...' He paused cunningly. 'I mean, after all that was a
secret, wasn't it ... ?'
The Doctor paced thoughtfully for a few
minutes. 'There is some logic in what you say,' he admitted, 'You mav
be just a foolish rogue and not be aware
of it,' he said with an indulgent smile. 'I am prepared to give you
the benefit of the doubt. While we are reconsidering the position of
gaoler here, I shall allow you to remain in a temporary capacity.'
The flushed, sweating gaoler swallowed
hard and sighed with immense relief as the Doctor motioned the
soldiers to release him. 'Thank you ... Thank you, Citizen. You
will not regret your generosity,' he promised.
'I should hope not, for your sake!' the
Doctor warned. 'Now, listen to me. Robespierre was smuggled out of
the Convention, but the militia will catch him and probably bring him
here.'
The gaoler rubbed his leathery hands.
'We'll take good care of him, Citizen, never fear,' he vowed.
The Doctor raised his hand. 'Later
there will be a whole new consignment of prisoners as Robespierre's
treacherous associates are rounded up. You had better have the cells
emptied and made ready for them,' he ordered.
The gaoler waved his keys at the'
soldiers. 'Yes, yes, release all the prisoners at once,' he
commanded.
'And give me the key to the dungeon,'
the Doctor requested, dabbing the sweat from his brow.
Obediently the gaoler handed it over.
'Thank you very much indeed,' the
Doctor smiled, and turning on his heel, he strode away towards the
dungeon where Susan still languished in total isolation, close to
despair.
The rain dropped out of the hot black
sky in great soaking blobs. Concealed in the porch opposite the
prison, Barbara watched the laughing cheering throng of soldiers and
deputies surge along the street and up to the gates of the
Conciergerie. In their midst struggled the thin, crouched figure of
Robespierre, his hands still cupped around his bloodily foaming
mouth, and his elegant clothes covered in long trails of blood like
streamers hanging from a maypole.
The leading soldier banged on the gates
with his musket. 'Open up! We've got Robespierre! Open up for the
Tyrant ... ' he cried.
Barbara shuddered as the gates swung
open and the crowd pushed its way into the courtyard. She
feared that the Doctor and Susan might find themselves trapped inside
the Conciergerie in all the confusion. With Paris poised on a
political knife-edge, nobody could feel safe now.
To her immense relief, Ian and James
Stirling suddenly ran into the porch both soaked to the skin.
'Doctor not back yet?' Ian panted,
anxiously eyeing the mass of citizens jamming the gates to the prison
across the road.
Barbara shook her head. 'Robespierre's
just been taken inside,' she murmured, still shocked by the memory.
'I saw him ... It was horrible, Ian ... '
Stirling leaned against the wall to
recover his breath. 'Yes, we followed them here,' he gasped. 'Perhaps
I should go in and find out what has happened to the Doctor ... '
Ian grasped his arm firmly. 'You stay
where you are!' he insisted. 'I don't think Citizen Lernaitre would
be very popular at the moment. Let's wait until Jules arrives with
the transport.'
There was a tense pause while they
watched the shoving, jostling crowd trying to force its way into the
prison. Overhead, the thunderstorm flashed and hammered away, as if
echoing the turbulent events taking place on the ground.
I shall be making for Calais,' Stirling
told them eventually. 'I can find a boat there.'
'Good, I think we can take you part of
the way there,' Ian offered.
Stirling frowned at his two mysterious
compatriots. 'I know absolutely nothing about you all ... ' he
exclaimed in a surprised voice, as if the fact had only just occurred
to him. 'Where exactly are you heading?'
Before Ian could say too much, Barbara
hastily intervened. 'Well, according to a map Jules showed us, we
travel sort of north-west out of Paris ... about fifteen
kilometres,' she replied, sketching vaguely with her finger on the
grimy window behind her.
Stirling looked even more puzzled than
before. 'But I understood that you were ... '
'Here's Jules!' Ian interrupted, as the
clatter of hooves and the rumble of wheels sounded
suddenly above the racket in the sky.
The Doctor had been frantically
struggling with the dungeon key, while the prison reverberated with
the din of the storm and the clamour of newly-released prisoners and
the arrival of Robespierre. At last the stiff lock snapped open and
the Doctor strode into the smelly cell.
'Grandfather ... Oh, Grandfather, is
it really you at last?' Susan cried, collapsing into his arms, her
face wet with tears.
'Yes, my child, it's all over now,' he
murmured tenderly, hugging her and kissing her forehead. 'We're going
straight back to the TARDIS,' he promised, leading Susan out of the
dungeon and around the corner into the vault.
'Where are the others?' Susan asked
weakly, leaning heavily on the Doctor's arm.
'Barbara is waiting in the street and
Ian should be there too by now. Jules is bringing us a carriage,' the
Doctor explained, hurrying her along.
Susan giggled nervously. 'Gosh, a
carriage! We're certainly going to travel in style!' Her face
suddenly froze as she saw the soldiers dragging the horribly wounded
Robespierre down the steps at the other end of the vault.
'Grandfather, what's happening?' she exclaimed in a choked voice.
'They've arrested Robespierre,' the
Doctor murmured, drawing Susan to one side where a group of freed
prisoners were standing gazing around them in bewildered disbelief.
'You could call it a celebration,' he added ironically.
They watched the deposed tyrant being
dragged over to the tipsy and equally bewildered gaoler in his
alcove.
'Well, Citizen Robespierre, this is
indeed an honour,' the gaoler chuckled, attempting a mock bow and
staggering clumsily against his star prisoner.
'Don't waste your foul breath on him,'
growled the leading militiaman. 'He can't answer you back. He tried
to write us a letter. Too bad we can't read!'
A chorus of brutal jeers and raucous
laughter erupted from the crowd thronging the steps.
'Let's go, my child,' murmured the
Doctor, edging along the wall towards the steps. 'The rabble
are much too busy to bother about us. Yesterday they lived in fear of
Robespierre. Today... '
The Doctor fell silent as he led Susan
through the merciless crowd baying for revenge and ushered her
swiftly out into the courtyard to safety.
Across the street from the prison gates
a pair of horses waited patiently in the shafts of a four-wheeled
enclosed carriage. Jules Renan had joined the others waiting
apprehensively in the porch out of the torrential rain.
'Yes, the fall of Robespierre changes
everything for us ... ' Jules observed pensively.
Ian shrugged. 'I don't see why it
should. People will still be arrested and condemned to the
guillotine.'
'But our organisation was created to
work against Robespierre,'Jules explained. 'We shall have to wait and
see how his successors behave.'
'Barras will take over now of course,'
Barbara said casually.
Jules shook his head doubtfully. 'I
think he will be content to be commander of the military,' he
replied. 'But Tallien will advance upwards.'
'And Fouche,' Barbara added.
Jules frowned. 'Yes, Fouche perhaps.
And even Freron ... ' He suddenly smiled in surprise. 'You are
extremely well informed about our ambitious politicians, Barbara. Who
do you think will rule France eventually?'
Barbara smiled enigmatically.
'Eventually? Oh, none of those people, Jules. But remember the name
of Napoleon Bonaparte ... '
Jules stared at her in amused
disbelief. 'A Corsican, ruler of France? Never!' he laughed in mock
outrage.
James Stirling had been listening with
intense interest. He would dearly have liked to discover more about
the two young English persons and their mysterious friends. 'Now that
I am at last going home I just cannot wait to see England again,' he
confessed.