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

They closed their eyes and waited for the end.
    ‘It’s all right,’ said Odysseus, ‘I was only going to lean on it.’
    He did so, folding his tattooed arms on the ornate hilt.
    They opened their eyes, wondering if perhaps there was a future to face after all. ‘And now then, mannikins, first of all, tell me who you really are!’
    I told you he was different from all the other Greeks, didn’t I? You never knew where you were with Odysseus.
     
    10

The Doctor Draws a Graph
    ‘But I thought you’d already made up your mind who we are,’
    said Steven, after a surprised pause. ‘Trojan spies, I think you said?’
    Odysseus laughed, in that sabre-toothed, ceramic-shattering way of his. ‘Aye – and so at first I thought. And so, later, I was content to have that fool, Agamemnon, believe.’
    ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve revised your opinion,’ said the Doctor. ‘So who do you think we are now?’
    ‘I do not know. Your costume is not Trojan, and your posturing as Zeus was so absurd, I do not think Trojan wit could sink so low.’
    ‘I did not posture. How dare you! I merely met Achilles, and...’
    ‘He thrust the role upon you? This I can believe. That musclebound body-building Narcissus fears his shadow in the sunshine, will not so much as comb his hair until he reads the new day’s auguries. He is so god-fearing that he sees them everywhere – and trembles at ’em all. But I am not Achilles...
    No, and you are not a Trojan. So, I ask again, who are you?’
    ‘I think we’d better tell him, Doctor,’ said Steven.
    ‘A doctor now? Hippocrates are you? Have a care...’
    ‘Nothing of the sort – I am a doctor of science not medicine.’
    ‘A doctor of what?’ enquired Odysseus, puzzled.
    ‘Oh, dear me, this is obviously going to take some time. I mean, if I have to keep defining my terms.’
    ‘Define what you like – but remember the terms are mine not yours! And I shall be patient. Only this time, if you value your lives, do not lie to me.’
     
    So the Doctor began to explain about the TARDIS. A difficult task, obviously, because how do you describe a time-machine to a man who has never even heardof Euclid, never mind Einstein? Of course, up till then, I’d never heard of them myself, but I must say I found the whole concept fascinating.
    Odysseus however seemed to be labouring somewhere between incredulity and incomprehension, and only brightened up when they came to the stories about their previous adventures – which he naturally would, being something of an adventurer himself.
    Nevertheless a longship isn’t a TARDIS by any means, and personally I wouldn’t have bet much on their chances of being believed, or of getting away with their skins in the sort of condition they would wish. I think the Doctor realized this, and eventually ground to a somewhat stammering standstill, leaving Steven to wind things up:
    ‘... and so really, we arrived in your time, Odysseus, quite by accident. Just another miscalculation of the Doctor, here.’
    ‘I wouldn’t call it a miscalculation, my boy! In fact, with all eternity to choose from, I think a margin of error of a century or so is quite understandable. No, I think I’ve done rather well to get us to Earth at all!’
    ‘I’m glad you’re so pleased with yourself! I suppose I should be grateful for being about to have my throat cut?’
    Odysseus turned from a space-time graph which the Doctor had drawn in the sand, and erased it scornfully with his foot.
    ‘Now, now, no one has mentioned cutting throats!’
    ‘Of course they haven’t,’ said the Doctor, seizing on the vital point.
    ‘No,’ continued Odysseus, reassuringly, ‘I had something rather more painful in mind – painful and lingering for the both of you.’ He scowled. ‘As it is, however, I haven’t quite decided.’
    If the Doctor had a fault, it was that he never knew when to leave well alone. Interested in everything, he was. ‘Some form of ritual death, no doubt?