Free Doctor Who: The Myth Makers by Donald Cotton Page A

Doctor.
    ‘Perhaps not – but I really don’t see what you can expect me to do about it? You don’t imagine, do you, that if and when we enter Troy, I shall have time to ask every young woman I see if she’s a friend of yours, before I cut her throat? It just wouldn’t be practical.’
    ‘Then,’ said Steven, ‘let me go now, and try to get her out before you attack. After all, I’m no use to you here. The Doctor can manage very well without me.’
    Odysseus rubbed his chin with the paint-brush – fortunately without noticing. Bluebeard, the bigamous pirate, to the life! ‘I hope you don’t think it’s as easy to get into Troy as you suggest?
    If it were, I’d have done it myself years ago, and the war would be over by now.’
    ‘I’m not proposing to break in – there are other ways.’
    ‘Oh, are there indeed?’ He yawned, inhaling a certain amount of paint. ‘You must tell me about them sometime. At the moment I happen to be rather busy. Dam’ barnacles get in everywhere,’ he explained, preparing to descend to his bilges again.
    ‘Listen a moment,’ Steven persevered, ‘it’s quite simple. You can’t afford to let yourself be taken prisoner – I can!’
    Odysseus looked as near to pitying as he ever would. ‘You really are anxious to die, aren’t you? They’d take you for a spy, as we did.’
    ‘Not if I were wearing uniform. I should be a prisoner of war.’
    For a moment I was afraid Odysseus was going to laugh again. But wiser tonsils prevailed, and he spat out a gob of paint instead. He regarded it with astonishment – and then returned, a trifle subdued, to the subject under discussion.
    ‘Hmm... I’m not sure what they’re doing with their prisoners of war at the moment. It may be just imprisonment, as you said. On the other hand, it may be hanging in chains for the vultures. Depends on how they feel at the time, I imagine. An unpredicatable lot, the Trojans.’
     
    ‘I’m prepared to take the risk, if you’re prepared to let me go.’
    You could tell Odysseus was impressed, because he said so.
    ‘You know, that’s really very brave of you...!’
    ‘Then you’ll help me?’
    ‘I don’t see why not. And, of course, if you can manage to kill a couple of them before you let yourself be captured, we shall all be very grateful. Every little helps. And, as you say, you don’t seem to be of any particular use here.’
    ‘All right – I’ll do my best. What about a uniform?’
    ‘Can’t help you there, I’m afraid – you’d look ridiculous in one of mine; altogether different fitting. Wait a minute last week my friend Diomede died of his wounds on board – and they don’t know he’s dead – so you can take his identity as well as his armour. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, under the circumstances.
    You’ll find his things up for’ard – and you’re about his size, so, off you go.’
    ‘Thank you, Odysseus – I’ll try to be worthy of them.’
    Tactful, I thought. A good lad.
    ‘I’m sure you will be. I should have been quite distressed to have put you to death myself.’ And he looked quite as if he meant it. So off Steven popped – and Odysseus turned to the Doctor: ‘Well, now,’ he said, ‘after that, I hope you’re not going to disappoint me?’
    ‘I sincerely hope not. Tell me – have you thought of tunnelling?’
    ‘It’s been tried. The men won’t work the hours. No, what we want is something revolutionary.’
    ‘Dear me! I wonder – have you considered flying machines?’
    Oydsseus raised an eyebrow, as with a winch. ‘I can’t say I have,’ he admitted, ‘tell me about them...’
     
     
    ‘Flying machines, indeed! Enough of his nonsense!’ I thought.
    ‘It’s time for my siesta.’ For, in fact, the boar-chops were beginning to lie rather heavy – so I padded stealthily out of earshot and made a cautious way back to the plain, where there was a shady tree of which I had pleasant memories.
    Just before I went to sleep, I