DW120: The Romans by Donald Cotton

Author:Donald Cotton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780426202882
Publisher: Target
Published: 1987-10-15T05:00:00+00:00

DOCUMENT XVI

Fifth Extract from the Journal

of Ian Chesterton

I fear I may have annoyed my enormous companion, Delos, but really there is little I can do to appease the man at the moment. But appease him somehow I must, since he is shortly to be my opponent in a gladiatorial contest; and even were he to enter the arena in a good-humoured and sporting spirit, he would still make a formidable adversary—witness the snapping of chains, and the wrenching of benches—and I do not care to think of what he might be capable were he to be in a really bad temper!

For the last twenty-four hours, however, he has refused to respond to my friendly overtures, and merely sits in a corner of the dungeon where we are detained, muttering and glowering.

Am I going too fast for you, Headmaster? Then perhaps I should explain the concatination of unforseen circumstances which have brought us to this pretty pass; and you will then understand, I hope, why my normally high spirits are in abeyance at the moment.

You will remember that after my rescue from shipwreck, I overbore the, what seemed to me, rather craven arguments by which Delos urged me to accompany him in a northerly direction, there to go into hiding until our death by drowning should be assumed by the authorities? But not for me the life of the fugitive! And I insisted, perhaps unwisely as it now appears, that instead we should head directly for Rome, where I intended to strain every sinew not already ruptured by my recent experiences, in a search for my unfortunate colleague, Barbara Wright. And in spite of the outcome, I still maintain that under the then circumstances this was the correct and honourable course of action, and that morally speaking I could have adopted no other, as I’m sure you will agree.

However, on arriving at the gates of the Eternal City—or is that Jerusalem, I can never remember—the ill-fortune which, since my first meeting with the Doctor, has followed at my heels like an unwanted timber-wolf, once more took over the control of my affairs, and quickly slipped me the staccato tomato—if you will forgive the somewhat mixed metaphor.

Urging Delos to look as inconspicuous as possible for a man some eight feet tall and broad with it, I at once began to pursue my enquiries, casually asking the passers-by if they happened to have encountered a pleasant-looking girl with a British accent, who when last seen was wearing a sort of crimson and gold toga with matching accessories.

In spite of my companion’s misgivings, I was myself quite satisfied that this course of action, pursued methodically and patiently, would eventually produce results; and indeed it did, although not the ones I had innocently anticipated. For amongst the very first of the persons I accosted in this manner was the slave-trader, Sevcheria; who informed me that by a curious coincidence he had sold someone answering to that description for a record price only yesterday; and that

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