Doctor Who: BBC Past Doctor Adventures [042] - Asylum by Peter Darvill-Evans

Author:Peter Darvill-Evans
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563538332
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 2001-05-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

There could be no doubt about it: brother Roger was the cleverest man alive. Whenever Thomas wondered whether his irascible master’s reputation had been built on nothing more than theories and speculation, he had only to pick up one of the old man’s wonderful devices and he was reassured.

This morning he had brought with him to his rooftop perch the extendable tube of metal that had attracted the Doctor’s attention the first time he had come to brother Roger’s cell.

When Thomas held the tube to his eye the cunningly polished lenses of glass within the tube made distant objects larger in his sight.

He pointed the tube at the most distant thing he could clearly see: Holywell mill, on the River Cherwell, beyond the northern wall of the town. It was said that the waters had miraculous properties. But brother Roger’s tube was a truer miracle: as Thomas adjusted its length and closed his other eye, the mill building appeared before him as if it were no more distant than the tower of St Aldate’s, He could see the wheel turning in the stream, and the froth of the foam it made.

But his concerns were closer than Holywell. He took the tube from his eye and scanned the nearby streets. The day was the feast of St Giles, and only the bakers were at work in the town. Beyond the walls, the fields were empty of serfs and villeins. Thomas knew that by noon, however, the streets of Oxford would be as crowded as on a working day. The merchants would walk to church in their best attire, then the peasants would come in from the surrounding villages to drink beer and dance, and later still there would be games of bowls and football, and archery contests made deadly dangerous by the intoxication of the competitors. Now, though, the town was strangely quiet.

And yet there were people moving through the lanes and alleys. And here was one such, emerging from beneath Thomas’s eyrie. It was a friar, leaving the’ gatehouse and hurrying westwards along Friars Street.

Thomas hardly needed to use the tube, but he put it to his eye.

As he had thought, the friar was brother Oswald. He was carrying a large box and, thanks to the powers of the tube, Thomas could see the leaves of the tiny plants lined up across the top of the box. Why was he heading westwards? Thomas would have expected him to turn east at the friary gate, and to proceed along Pennyfarthing Street towards the university quarter.

He watched Oswald’s progress. When the friar reached the• cobbled yard in front of the castle’s barbican, would he enter the castle or would he continue to the town’s West Gate, and out on to the Faringdon road?

Oswald scurried under the ramparts of the barbican.

Thomas pondered for a moment, and then pointed the tube towards the centre of town. He cursed: no matter how carefully he aimed the device, when he put his eye to its end it seemed always to be directed at some place other than the one he wanted to see.

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