Doctor Who_ World Game - Doctor Who_ World Game Part 39
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Doctor Who_ World Game Part 39

Smoke drifted over the battlefield and through it the setting sun glowed blood-red.

'You are sure?' demanded the Duke.

'We found them quite quickly, my lord. They were much closer than we had even hoped. They were already on the march, but halted by forged orders. We delivered your dispatch and they moved immediately.'

'Any French in the area?'

'Quite a large force, my lord, sent to attack the Prussians.'

'Did they engage? If the Prussians are attacked their main force may arrive too late.'

'There was no attack, my lord.'

'Why not?'

'The Doctor, or rather the Emperor, told them to go away.'

'You have done me great service, Doctor,' said the Duke.

'I will thank you when there is time. For now, the moment of crisis approaches.'

He turned his attention back to the battle From his command post on a high bank Napoleon studied the same scene. He glanced at the hills to the right and noticed that they had turned suddenly dark. The darkness was the black uniforms of the advancing Prussians.

He turned to the beautiful dark-haired woman at his side.

'You said they would never come. You have failed me.'

Her blue eyes flashed with anger but she made no reply.

Napoleon turned away, rejecting her. The next time he looked in her direction she had disappeared.

He forgot her, his mind racing. There was one card left to play his finest troops, the Imperial Guard. They had never been beaten, never retreated. Until now he had held them back from the battle. Now he must gamble everything on their success.

The Doctor stood close to Wellington in the centre of the line.

All around the Foot Guards lay in concealment, ordered by Wellington to lie down.

The Imperial Guard advanced in two columns. They wore long blue coats and bearskin helmets and they all seemed to be giants. British cannon opened up, cutting swathes through their ranks. Men fell and died. The Guard reformed and came on.

The Duke watched impassively until they had come within sixty yards. Then his voice rang out. 'Stand up, Guards!'

Fifteen thousand men seemed to spring out of the ground before the astonished French.

'Make ready! Fire!'

The speed and accuracy of their musketry was the British Army's greatest asset. The long lines of muskets mowed down the enemy in a stream of bullets. Three hundred of the Imperial Guard fell at the first volley. More muskets opened up on their right flank and more men fell.

For the first time in its history the Guard fell back. 'Now's your time,' called the Duke. 'Charge!'

The Foot Guard charged with their bayonets, driving the enemy before them.

The horrifying news spread through the French army. 'The Guard retreats!'

This was the decisive moment. The Duke rose in his stirrups and took off his hat, waving it three times towards the French, in the signal for 'General advance'. There was a roar of enthusiasm from the entire army. Light cavalry in the lead, the British regiments swooped down on the plain, driving the fleeing enemy before them.

The Doctor turned away. The battle was as good as over.

Wellington and his allies had won, and human history, bloody and tragic as the day had been, was still on its allotted course.

And Serena was dead.

Finding his horse, the fat and comfortable old mare, the Doctor set off for Brussels.

The next day the Doctor stood by a freshly dug grave in a little private cemetery.

The Duchess of Richmond was at his side and they were looking down at a plain white marble headstone upon which was carved one word: SERENA SERENA.

'You're sure that's the only inscription you want?' asked the Duchess. 'No dates, no text, no loving memory. No record of her achievement, her sacrifice?'

'I'm sure.'

'And you'll inform her family and friends?'

'I shall set off for her...homeland at once.'

'You're leaving Brussels?'

'Almost immediately.'

'Have you seen the Duke, since the battle? He tells me you did him a great service.'

The Doctor smiled. 'The Duke has many calls on his time.

I don't want to impose upon him.'

They heard the sound of hoof-beats and turned to see two horsemen riding up to the cemetery gate. One was the Duke himself, mounted on Copenhagen, the other was Colonel Grant. The riders dismounted, tethering their horses, and came towards them. The Duchess went to greet them, and tactfully took her leave.

The Duke walked towards the Doctor, limping a little.

'Were you hurt in the battle?' asked the Doctor.

'Not precisely in the battle,' said the Duke. 'You know I rode Copenhagen all day? Well, when the battle was over, we were both weary. I dismounted and gave Copenhagen a pat to show my gratitude. He kicked me!' The Duke of Wellington gave one of his great cracks of laughter. He thought the story was greatly to Copenhagen's credit.

The Doctor said, 'I must congratulate you on your victory, my lord.'

'Oh do not congratulate me,' said the Duke quickly. 'I have lost so many of my friends. And my poor soldiers...I have no feeling for the advantages we have gained.'

'It was a great victory, all the same. And it was your victory, my lord.'

'It was a damned close-run thing, Doctor,' said Wellington frankly. 'I do not think it would have done if I had not been there.' He looked at Serena's headstone. 'And I do not forget that I should not have been there, had it not been for your friend and her sacrifice. Nor might I have been victorious had it not been for your extraordinary feat in securing the arrival of the Prussians. Colonel Grant has given me a full account of your achievements. Will you not accept some reward, Doctor? A decoration, perhaps? I can ask for a knighthood?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'My reward lies in knowing that Bonaparte is defeated, and that your lordship will enjoy many more years of service to his country.'

'Not on the battlefield,' said the Duke. 'I have fought my last battle, Doctor. It is a bad thing to be always fighting.'

'Oh, I quite agree,' said the Doctor.

Wellington brooded for a moment. 'Thank God I do not know what it is to lose a battle. But next to a battle lost, the greatest misery is a battle gained. I am quite overcome by the losses we have sustained.'

To the Doctor's surprise he saw tears in the Duke's eyes.

Perhaps it had all been worthwhile, he thought. It was quite clear the Duke meant what he said. Unlike Napoleon, this man was no glory hunter, no lover of war. The long struggle with Napoleon had been a necessary task. Now it was over and he was glad of it. No war world would follow his victory.

The Duke said gruffly, 'Well, I must be on my way, there is much to be done still. We haven't caught that rogue Napoleon yet, but he'll turn up. Goodbye, Doctor.' He paused, then said awkwardly, 'I shall be fully occupied here on the Continent for some time. But if you should happen to be in London, later, in calmer times, I should be most happy to see you, Doctor.' With that, he turned and strode back to his horse.

Colonel Grant, who had been hovering discreetly in the background, came up and shook hands. 'Goodbye, Doctor.

And thank you.'

'I walked off with your Napoleon hat. Shall I send it to you?'

'Keep it as a souvenir, Doctor. You've earned it!'

He went over to join the Duke and they rode off.

The Doctor stood for a moment longer, looking at Serena's grave.

'Goodbye,' he said softly, and turned and walked away.

He walked slowly through a jubilant and rejoicing Brussels and came at last to the Parc de Bruxelles and the little ornamental pavilion that was really a TARDIS. He was fishing for the key when a familiar voice said, 'Surely you weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, Doctor?'

A woman was walking down the path towards him. She was tall and graceful and she wore a long, hooded black cloak. It was the Countess.

'I didn't much want to see you again,' said the Doctor. 'And I certainly didn't think you'd want to see me.'

'You give me no credit for sporting spirit, Doctor. The Game is over, and you have won. The least I can do is jump over the net and congratulate you.'

'It was never a game to me.'

'It was never anything else to me. You don't realise the extent of your victory. The Grand Design has been abandoned. The Wellington-Napoleon Game is no more. All Games have been suspended indefinitely. We have caused too much disturbance, been too much noticed. I have been reprimanded.'

'Good!' said the Doctor. 'Why don't you abandon the whole thing? Can't you find anything to do but make the fate of suffering humanity even worse?'

'Oh, there will be more Games, Doctor, never fear. You and I will play again, many times. Our destinies are intertwined.' She looked at him with frank amusement. 'Two odd-looking little dark men. Two geniuses. And I had to pick the wrong one!'

She smiled at him with genuine affection, and then faded away.

The Doctor looked at the spot where she had been.

She was beyond redemption, of course. A completely amoral being.

'Why is it,' wondered the Doctor, 'that I can never completely hate the people I ought to hate? Or love and respect the people I'm supposed to look up to?'

He took out the key, the door appeared, and he went into the TARDIS. Minutes later there was a musical humming sound and the little pavilion faded away.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

Homecoming

The Doctor sat in the Celestial Intervention Agency conference room facing Sardon and his assistant, Luco, across the polished table.

He looked neat, clean and refreshed, and he was wearing, almost it seemed as a gesture of defiance, a somewhat smarter version of his normal attire. Black frock coat; neatly pressed trousers in black-and-grey check; a crisp, wide-collared blue shirt and a rather natty, dark-blue bow tie with little white spots. A colourful red-and-white display handkerchief flowed extravagantly from the top pocket of his coat.

The message was clear, thought Sardon. The Doctor was himself again.