On a peaceful rural planet, where the colourful pageantry
of old Ruritania mingles with ultra-modern Android
technology, the Doctor becomes a king-maker in spite of
himself.
In his search for another segment of the Key to Time, the
Doctor matches wits and swords with the evil Count
Grendel—aided, of course, by Romana and the invaluable
K9.
THE ANDROIDS OF TARA is a novel in the Key To Time
Sequence. Read THE RIBOS OPERATION and THE
STONES OF BLOOD available now.
ISBN 0 426 20108 6
      DOCTOR WHO
        AND THE
    ANDROIDS OF TARA

 Based on the BBC television serial by David Fisher by
arrangement with the British Broadcasting Corporation




            TERRANCE DICKS




                 A TARGET BOOK
                    published by
              The Paperback Division of
               W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd
A Target Book
Published in 1980
by the Paperback Division of W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd.
A Howard & Wyndham Company
44 Hill Street, London W1X 8LB

Novelisation copyright © 1980 by Terrance Dicks
Original script copyright © 1978 by David Fisher
‘Doctor Who’ series copyright © 1978, 1980 by the British
Broadcasting Corporation

Reproduced, printed and bound in Great Britain by
Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading

ISBN 0 426 20108 6

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by
way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or
otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in
any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is
published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
CONTENTS

1 The Doctor Goes Fishing
2 Count Grendel
3 The Double
4 The Princess
5 The Prisoner of Gracht
6 The Android King
7 Invitation to an Ambush
8 The Android Killer
9 Flag of Truce
10 Count Grendel plans a Wedding
11 Attack by Night
12 Victory
                       1
            The Doctor Goes Fishing
      The Doctor was playing chess with K9.
      In the control room of the TARDIS the centre column
of the many-sided console rose and fell. Incredibly intricate
machinery whirred, clicked and hummed speeding, them
through the space time continuum towards their next
destination. That destination was now very close, though the
Doctor was too absorbed to realise it. He leaned forward,
made his move and started the chess clock.
      K9 shook his head sadly. ‘Inadvisable, Master.’
      ‘What do you mean, inadvisable? I once saw Capablanca
win the world championship with that move...’
      ‘He lost.’
      The Doctor stared indignantly down at the dog-like little
automaton. ‘Who lost?’
      ‘Capablanca.’
      ‘You’re sure?’
      K9 was a mobile self-powered computer, and if there
was one thing upon which he prided himself it was the
accuracy of his data-banks. ‘I have been programmed with all
Earth Championship games since 1886. On the occasion to
which you refer, Capablanca lost.’
      The Doctor sighed. ‘I must have missed the end of the
game. It’s your move, K9.’
      ‘King to Knight’s Two.’
      ‘King to Knight’s Two? That’s a terrible move, weakens
the King’s side. Are you sure K9?’
      ‘Affirmative.’
       The Doctor made K9’s move for him, and studied the
board.
       ‘Clock, Master,’ reminded K9 reprovingly.
       ‘I know, I know,’ said the Doctor irritably, and started
the clock. Suddenly things seemed to have become
extraordinarily difficult, each possible move leading only to
disaster. ‘I think I’d better check your programming, K9,
you’re not supposed to be playing draughts,’ he grumbled.
       A tall, elegantly beautiful young woman came into the
control room. Her name was Romana and she was a Time
Lady, the Doctor’s companion in recent adventures.
       She looked disapprovingly at the scene before her.
‘Doctor, what are you playing?’
       ‘Playing chess, of course. Sssh, you’ll spoil my
concentration.’
       ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’
       The Doctor brooded over the chessboard. ‘Very likely—
only I can’t seem to think what it is.’
       ‘I am referring to our task, Doctor. The quest for the
Key to Time—remember?’
       For once in his long career the Doctor was embarked,
not upon a series of random adventures, but on one
continuous quest. He was searching for the six segments of
the giant crystal that formed the Key to Time. In order to
prevent it falling into the wrong hands, the Key had been split
into six segments, scattered to distant parts of the universe.
       But now the balance of the cosmos had been disturbed.
A mysterious and powerful being called the White Guardian
had given the Doctor the task of recovering the six segments
and reassembling them into the Key to Time. Armed with
this, the white Guardian would be able to restore the balance
of the cosmos, and thwart the schemes of the evil Black
Guardian to plunge the universe into chaos.
       The Doctor was perfectly well aware of all this, but at the
moment he wanted to forget it, at least for a while.
       Romana, however, had a keenly developed sense of
duty. She insisted on reminding the Doctor of the importance
of their mission. ‘The Guardian did stress the need for
urgency, didn’t he, Doctor?’
       ‘Sssh! I’m trying to think.’
       Romana moved across to the console. ‘Shall I check the
instrument readings, Doctor?’
       ‘If you must...’ The Doctor looked up. ‘I just feel we’ve
earned a little break, that’s all,’ he said in an aggrieved voice.
‘After all, we’ve got three of the six segments by now. I’d
much rather play chess.’
       ‘Really?’ Romana studied the instrument readings. A
wand-like device called the Tracer was plugged into the
navigational circuits, steering the TARDIS to the part of the
universe where the next segment could be found. The Tracer
was a very necessary part of their search, since the divided
segments had the power to disguise themselves as almost any
imaginable, or unimaginable object.
       ‘Almost there, Doctor,’ said Romana briskly. ‘We should
be materialising in about... fifteen seconds.’
       ‘What about my game?’
       Romana went over and looked at the board. ‘Your game
is already over, Doctor. Mate for K9 in twelve moves.’
       ‘Correction, Mistress. Eleven moves.’
       Roman looked again. ‘Eleven? Yes, quite right. Sorry,
K9.’
       ‘Apologies not necessary, Mistress.’
       ‘Mate in eleven?’ Concentrating hard the Doctor ran all
possible moves through his head, and then shook it in gloomy
agreement. ‘That’s the trouble with chess, it’s all so
predictable.’
       Romana’s hands were moving over the controls.
‘Materialisation commencing... now. Five... four... three...
two...’ The central column came to a halt, and Romana said
proudly, ‘Smooth enough for you, Doctor?’
       The Doctor looked up in surprise. ‘Arrived already,
have we? A very creditable landing—for a beginner. Where
are we?’
       Romana gave him a withering look. ‘On the planet
Tara.’ She began checking instrument readings with her usual
efficiency. ‘Earth-level gravity. Oxygen atmosphere.
Temperate climate...’
       ‘Tara, eh?’ said the Doctor thoughtfully. He flicked on
the scanner and saw an attractive green landscape. Neatly-
fenced fields, wooded hills—was that a castle on one of them?
There was even a river, meandering peacefully across the
countryside, its clear shallow waters sparkling in the sunshine.
       The Doctor looked hard at the river. A thoughtful look
came into his eyes. ‘Tara, eh? Looks like a peaceful enough
place. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble.’
       ‘Me? You mean us, don’t you, Doctor?’
       A rather guilty expression came over the Doctor’s face.
‘Aren’t you going to get changed?’
       Roman gave him a suspicious look, opened a door and
went into one of the innumerable rooms adjoining the control
room. Since the TARDIS was dimensionally transcendental—
bigger on the inside than on the outside—the number of
rooms it held was potentially infinite. So far Romana had seen
only a fraction of them. She had acquainted herself with the
wardrobe section though, and she made her way there now,
sliding back a door to reveal a long cupboard, big enough to
be a room in itself. Inside were racks holding coats and
dresses and costumes of every imaginable period and planet.
Romana walked through the racks, mentally checking off the
codings. She stopped. ‘Tara... costume for Tara... should be
just about here.’ She took a hanger from a rack and found it
held a rustling grass skirt. She rechecked the coding on the
hanger. ‘Tara? No, Tahiti! Still, can’t be far away!’ She put the
grass skirt back and went on searching.
      The Doctor, meanwhile, was rooting through a
cupboard in the main control room. It was a big corner
cupboard, and it held an astonishing assortment of junk. He
was always intending to store the stuff properly or get rid of
it, but never seemed to get round to doing either. He heard
Romana’s voice behind him. ‘What are you looking for?’
      ‘I know it’s here somewhere...’
      ‘What is?’
      The Doctor pushed aside a medieval battle-axe and a
partially-dismantled Martian sonic cannon, and found what
he wanted. Seizing it triumphantly, he came out of the
cupboard.
      ‘Found it! Gosh this takes me back... or is it forward?
That’s the trouble with time travel, you can never be sure.’
      He was holding a long slender pole, with a kind of reel
arrangement attached to the butt. The reel held fine thread,
which was fed through loops attached to the pole.
      Romana stared at the contraption in astonishment.
‘What is it?’
      ‘A fishing rod, of course. Last time I used this, I went
out for the day with old Izaak Walton.’
      The name of the great fishing writer meant nothing to
Romana. She watched in astonishment, as the Doctor plunged
back into the cupboard, emerging with a basket clammed with
a clutter of mysterious-looking equipment. ‘Everything’s still
here. Bit of a tangle, but I’ll soon sort it out...’ He became
aware that Romana was looking expectantly at him,
      ‘Well, do you like it, Doctor?’
      ‘Like what?’
      ‘My new outfit’ Romana was wearing a flowing coat with
wide lapels and a jaunty hat. The effect was rather like the
riding costume of an Edwardian lady. ‘According to our
records it’s what everyone’s wearing on Tara this year, isn’t it,
K9?’
      ‘Affirmative, Mistress.’
      ‘Very nice,’ said the Doctor absently, and returned his
attention to the basket.

      Fishing-rod over his shoulder, the Doctor strode out of
the TARDIS and headed determinedly for the river.
      Romana hurried after him, ‘Where do you think you’re
going?’
      ‘Fishing!’
      ‘Another of those stupid sports you picked up on Earth?’
      ‘Fishing is not stupid,’ said the Doctor with, dignity.
‘And it’s not a sport either, it’s an art. An art, as dear old Izaak
used to say, “worthy the knowledge and practice of a wise
man”.’
      ‘We haven’t got time for you to practice, Doctor. We’ve
got to find the fourth segment of the Key to Time.’
      ‘You find it,’ said the Doctor cheerfully. ‘I’m taking the
day off.’
      ‘You can’t do that!’ Romana was horrified at the
Doctor’s irresponsibility.
      ‘Oh, can’t I? Section ninety-three, paragraph two, Laws
Governing the Conduct of Time Lords, says that a Time
Lord, such as me, after a journey of more than four hundred
years and twelve parsecs, is entitled to a period of rest and
relaxation not exceeding fifty years.’
      ‘Does it really say that?’
      ‘Look it up!’ The Doctor went on his way.
      Romana hurried after him. ‘I bet it doesn’t at all. You’re
inventing it!’
      They were still wrangling when they reached the banks
of the river, a broad and shallow stream close to the edge of a
shady wood.
      The Doctor sat down with his back against a handy tree
and began sorting through his fishing basket.
      Romana looked down at him. ‘You don’t really want me
to go on my own?’
      ‘Why not? I don’t see any sign of danger, do you?
Lovely day, beautiful countryside. The walk will do you good.’
      ‘Thank you very much!’
      ‘Do you mind moving back a little? You’re casting a
shadow on the water. It frightens the fish.’
      Romana tossed her head. ‘Frightens the fish, indeed!
Very well, Doctor, I shall go by myself. And I can tell you
this—I shall not get myself involved in things that don’t
concern me, in the way that some people do!’
      ‘Who me?’
      Romana took the unplugged Tracer from under her
coat and listened to its electronic note with an expert ear. She
pointed to the wood. ‘In my estimation the segment is in that
direction, and not much more than a mile away. I shall go
and get it, and return here in one hour. Be ready to leave.’
      ‘Uh-huh,’ said the Doctor absently. He began checking
through an old tin box full of rusting fish-hooks.
      Romana gave an indignant sniff and marched away.

      The Tracer led her first along the river bank and then
away from it into the wood. The path through the trees was
winding and narrow, and it soon became narrower still. It
began to rise steeply, and Romana realised she was climbing
the side of a wooded hill.
      Suddenly she began to feel uneasy. The trees seemed to
crowd round her menacingly, and the canopy of leaves
overhead reduced the sunlight to a dim green shade.
      Suddenly, Romana became aware of a sound.
      There was something moving in the undergrowth.
Something that crashed through the bushes, snuffling and
breathing heavily, always close by, yet always out of sight.
      Romana began to run. The sounds kept pace.
      The thing was tracking her.
      She ran faster, and faster forcing her way through
obstructing branches and bushes, her fear growing at each
second then. To her immense relief, she burst out of the dark
woods and into a sunlit clearing.
      Gasping, she came to a halt, and looked around her. In
the centre of the clearing were the traces of some ruined
building. Perhaps an ancient temple had stood there long
ago. Now all that remained were the foundations, a few
tumbled blocks of stone... and the statue.
      It stood on a battered plinth, a vaguely dragon-like
heraldic beast, thrusting time-blunted claws towards the blue
summer sky. Statue and plinth alike were eroded by weather
and time.
      Romana held out the Tracer and the electronic note
rose to maximum pitch. The fourth segment to the Key to
Time was here. Hidden in the statue, perhaps? Or, since the
segments had the power of transmutation, perhaps it was the
statue.
      Romana reached out and touched the plinth of the
statue. Nothing happened.
      She touched the statue itself. There was a blurring and
shimmering and suddenly the statue was gone. In its place
was a large, irregularly shaped chunk of crystal—the fourth
segment of the Key to Time.
      Romana gave a smile of satisfaction, and picked it up.
This would show the Doctor how efficient she was. A short
walk through the woods, and she could drag the Doctor away
from his silly fishing. Then, back to the TARDIS and on with
the quest for the fifth segment. None of those ridiculous
irrelevant adventures he always got mixed up in...
      In her excitement, Romana had forgotten the rustling
sounds she had heard earlier.
      The sounds returned, louder now, as some great beast
thrust its way through the forest.
      There was a savage roar, and Romana whirled round.
      A wild animal rushed towards her out of the woods.
                          2
                    Count Grendel
       The monster was a good eight feet tall—and it walked
upright like a man. It had coarse black fur, slavering jaws
filled with yellow, pointed teeth and a stubby horn projecting
from the centre of its forehead. A mixture of bear, ape and
boar, with the nastiest features of all three.
       Not that Romana was familiar with these Earth animals.
She wasn’t familiar with animals of any kind. Before joining
up with the Doctor she had spent her life in the vast Time
Lord city-complex called the Capitol.
       Romana backed away, until she was pressed against the
plinth. She tried to call upon her Time Lady training in
detachment; when confronted with the reality of a slavering
monster, it wasn’t so easy.
       The creature paused. Presumably it had never seen
anything like Romana before, and it was wondering if she was
dangerous.
       Romana considered making a dash for the woods. No,
the monster would be able to cut her off before she got to the
edge of the clearing. Even if she did reach the forest, it would
overhaul her and pull her down... Romana sidled round the
plinth, trying to get the stone pillar between them. But the
creature sensed her plan and moved sideways with her.
       It threw back its head and gave a roar of challenge,
preparing to charge...
       Another, larger, monster appeared from the forest. Or
so it seemed at first. Then she realised it was a man on
horseback. The horse was richly decorated with ornamental
trappings, a gorgeous saddle-cloth and a huge elaborate
saddle. The rider was even more impressive. He wore a
military-style uniform not unlike that of a nineteenth-century
hussar, and a plumed helmet.
      The rider halted his horse at the edge of the clearing
and dismounted.
      The creature swung round to face this new threat,
roaring out its challenge.
      The horseman drew his sword and advanced to meet it.
The sword was a long, slender rapier, and it looked terribly
light-weight in the face of this ravening monster. Something
like a battleaxe would be more appropriate, decided Romana,
or better still a good heavy-duty blaster.
      The monster charged, the swordsman lunged, and
Romana saw that this was no ordinary weapon. As it touched
the monster, there was a sizzling crackle and a shower of
sparks. The creature leaped back with a roar of pain.
      Recovering its courage, it attacked again. The
swordsman sidestepped a blow from its great slashing paw,
and thrust again... There was another shower of sparks and
again the monster retreated.
      It was a kind of electro-sword, Romana realised,and the
slender metal blade carried a powerful energy-charge...
      But it didn’t seem strong enough to kill the monster, or
even stun it. It only seemed to be making it angrier.
      As she watched the combat, Romana realised the
swordsman didn’t want to kill the beast. He was playing with
it amusing himself, using his skill to dodge the murderous
claws, retaliating with jab after jab from his sword. Before
long, the monster had had enough. With a last roar of anger
and frustration, it turned and lumbered away into the forest.
       Sword in hand Romana’s rescuer walked towards her.
He was tall, broad shouldered and heavily moustached. His
darkly handsome face was marred only slightly by a fiercely
jutting beak of a nose. He seemed utterly astonished at the
sight of Romana. He stood there, staring into her face as if he
couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Incredible...’
       Romana decided to put things on a proper social
footing. ‘I really don’t know how to thank you. That creature
would have killed me if you hadn’t arrived. May I know your
name?’
       The man laughed.‘My name? That’s rich! Are you
damaged?’
       ‘No, I don’t think so. Just a bit shaken.’
       ‘You’re sure your head isn’t injured?’ He was still staring
into her face.
       Romana rubbed the back of her head. ‘No, I don’t think
so. There’s no harm done, really. Won’t you tell me who you
are?’
       The man looked at her, a quizzical half smile on his lips,
but he didn’t reply.
       ‘Look, I’m sorry if you’re someone frightfully important,
but I’m a stranger round here. My name is Romana.’
       The man sheathed his sword and bowed. ‘The fair
Romana. That’s a pretty name.’ His voice was deep, and a
little hoarse.
       ‘Thank you. Tell me, are there many wild animals it like
that around here? I understood Tara was relatively civilised.’
       ‘It is, I assure you. I keep a few of the beasts in my
woods—for the hunting, you know. They don’t usually attack
anyone, not unless they’re frightened in some way.’
       ‘Your woods?’
      The man gestured expansively. ‘All this is part of the
estate of Gracht—or rather, what was left, after my father’s
debts were paid... What happened to the statue?’
      Romana looked at the empty plinth. The crystal
segment of the Key to Time was still resting on its centre. ‘I’ve
no idea. Is it important?’
      The man frowned. ‘Only to superstitious-peasants. It is
my family emblem, reputed to guard our fortunes,or at least,
it was. How very odd.’ Before Romana could stop him, he
reached out and picked up the crystal, weighing it in his
hand. ‘A curiously shaped stone.’
      ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Determined to recover the crystal, Romana
took a step towards him—then stopped, wincing as pain shot
through her ankle.
      The man reached out to steady her, taking hold of her
arm. His grip was very strong, ‘You’ve damaged your ankle.’
      ‘It’s nothing, really. Could I have my stone?’
      ‘Your stone?’
      ‘I found it... nearby. I collect crystal, it’s a kind of hobby.
Could I have it back, please?’
      ‘Of course... as soon as it’s been registered.’
      ‘Registered?’
      ‘Yes, of course. Do you not know the law? It is decreed
that all minerals, particularly unusual ones like this, must be
registered with the Knight of Castle Gracht.’
      ‘And who is that?’
      ‘Me! I am Count Grendel, Knight of Gracht, Master of
the Sword.’
      ‘I see. Will it take long?’
      ‘The merest formality,’ Count Grendel assured her
smoothly. ‘More important, is the fact that your ankle needs
attention.’
      ‘Really, it’s nothing.’ Romana hobbled a few steps and
winced.
      Count Grendel waved her protestations aside. ‘I shall
take you to my castle. My steward can register the stone while
my surgeon attends to your injury. Then I’ll provide you with
a mount, and an escort to wherever you like.’
      ‘You’re very kind, but it’s a question of time—’
      ‘An hour, no more; said the Count masterfully. ‘What’s
an hour out of your life?’ Before Romana could protest
further, he said firmly. ‛I shall not take no for an answer.’ He
stepped forward and picked her up in his arms, carrying her
towards his horse, which stood patiently waiting at the edge of
the clearing.
      Romana looked at the great beast in some alarm. She
wasn’t used to domesticated animals either. ‘What’s that?’
      ‘My favourite charger. Strong as a tree, swift as the
wind! Come!’
      He swung Romana up on to the saddle-bow and
mounted behind her. Steadying her with an arm around her
waist, he took the reins with the other hand, touched spurs to
the horse’s flanks.
      The great horse began to move and Romana said
nervously, ‘What a splendid creature.’ She wondered if the
animal really was just an animal. Technology on Tara seemed
a strange mixture of the primitive and advanced. The sword
hadn’t really been just a sword. Perhaps the horse was more
than a horse, some kind of robot. ‘How does it work?’ she
asked cautiously. ‘I mean, what makes it go?’
      Count Grendel laughed. ‘Good heavens, I don’t know,
my dear.’
      ‘You don’t?’
     ‘I’m a knight, not a farrier! Hold tight!’ They had
reached a broad path leading away from the clearing. The
Count put spurs to his horse, and they thundered away.
     It was all rather ridiculous really, thought Romana. Like
one of those romantic videonovels she’d viewed when she was
very young. Still, it was an amusing little incident, and it
would soon be over. As the Count’s charger carried her away,
Romana made a mental apology to the Doctor. Local
complications were not as easy to avoid as she had believed.

      The Doctor woke up and found that his hat was on fire.
He’d been sleeping peacefully a few minutes earlier, his
fishing rod propped up by a cleft stick, the float bobbing lazily
in the stream. The Doctor dozed, his hand resting on the butt
of the rod, confident the vibration of a catch would wake him
up—if he got a bite. There’d been no sign of one so far.
Maybe the fish of Tara didn’t like old Izaak’s bait...
      What woke him was not the quivering of the rod but the
smell of burning cloth. He opened his eyes, and saw the blade
of a slender metal sword brushing across the brim of his hat,
leaving a trail of sparks behind it. The Doctor snatched off his
has and beat it on the ground. A booted foot was thrust
against his chest, and the sword-tip hovered inches from his
nose.
      The Doctor looked up. Two men were standing over
him, one young, one middle-aged, both elaborately
uniformed in the style of Earth’s nineteenth century.
      The younger man, the one with the drawn sword, wore
an elaborate metal helmet.
      ‘I say, would you mind not standing on my chest?’ said
the Doctor politely.
       The two men stared impassively down at him. ‘I don’t
think we’ve met before.’
       Still no one spoke.
       The Doctor tried again. ‘Look, is it something I’ve said?
Or done?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘I know—I’m poaching!
I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission, but I didn’t see any “No
Fishing” notices.’
       The older man spoke. ‘Who are you?’ He had the harsh,
stern voice of a man accustomed to command.
       ‘They usually call me the Doctor...’
       ‘What are you doing here?’
       ‘Oh, just a flying visit!’ The Doctor rolled away from the
younger man’s boot. Before anyone realised what was
happening, he was on his feet. ‘I’m just passing through.’
       ‘This is Prince Reynart’s hunting estate.’
       ‘It is? Well, I didn’t know, did I? I told you, I didn’t see
any “No Fishing” notices. Anyway, I didn’t catch anything, if
that’s any help. See for yourself, nothing in the basket,
nothing on the hook.’ The Doctor reeled in his line. ‘Not even
bait,’ he added ruefully.
       The helmeted young man raised his sword. ‘Shall I kill
him, Swordmaster Zadek?’
       ‘Not until I give the order, Swordsman Farrah.’
       ‘That really won’t be necessary,’ said the Doctor
hurriedly. ‘If there’s a fine, I’ll be more than happy to pay it.’
He began groping in his pocket, but realised he didn’t have
any local currency—or any other kind of currency for that
matter. He picked up his hat and examined the charred brim.
‘How did that happen? Incendiary moths?’
       Farrah was still holding his sword at the Doctor’s chest.
The Doctor reached out and touched the sword-tip with one
finger, snatching it away as he felt the tingle of power.
      ‘May I?’ he said politely, and his long arm flashed out.
Before the outraged young man realised what was happening
the sword had been twisted neatly from his hands.
      The Doctor examined the weapon thoughtfully. ‘I see.
Electrically charged blade. Power pack in the hilt, I suppose?’
He tossed the weapon back. The astonished Farrah caught it,
and promptly pointed the sword at the Doctor’s chest.
      ‘You know about machines? Electronics?’ Zadek
pronounced the words distastefully, as if the subject was really
rather beneath him.
      ‘I know a bit about most things,’ said the Doctor
modestly.
      ‘Strange. You do not look like a peasant’
      ‘Well, of course I don’t. Me? A peasant?’
      Zadek looked thoughtfully at him. ‘Nevertheless, you do
have certain skills? Can you mend an android?’
      ‘What’s wrong with it?’
      ‘It won’t go,’ said Zadek simply.
      ‘Look, I’d love to help you, I really would. But I’m a bit
pressed for time at the moment. Why don’t you just get in
touch with your local android dealer?’
      The Doctor broke off. Farrah had lunged smoothly
forward, and the tip of the electro-sword was less than an inch
from his throat. ‘Now shall I kill him?’
      ‘On second thoughts,’ said the Doctor brightly, ‘why
don’t we go and take a look at that android?’
                          3
                      The Double
      The forest track, rose, broadened and turned into a
narrow winding road, which led them to the gates of a castle
on a hill. It was a gloomy, forbidding place, surrounded by a
moat. Its towers and battlements rose blackly against the
skyline, and seemed to cast a shadow over the peaceful green
countryside below.
      ‘Castle Gracht, my dear,’ said Count Grendel proudly.
‘Ancient home of the Grendels of Gracht.’
      ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Romana politely.
      ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it. And quite, quite escape-proof, I’m
happy to sayl’ With that, Count Grendel set spurs to his horse
and galloped over the drawbridge. The portcullis rose
automatically as they rode towards it. The Count rode into
the cobbled courtyard beyond and reined to a halt.
      Romana heard a low rumbling sound behind her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the portcullis-gate
coming down again, huge bolts sliding into place to secure it.
The defences of Castle Gracht were automatic, electronically
operated, a strange mixture of ancient tradition and modern
technology that was typical of Tara.
      A grotesque figure ran out of an arched stone doorway
and scuttled towards them, taking the reins of the charger. It
was a dwarf, immensely broad and strong, wearing rough
leather garments. ‘My servant Till,’ said Grendel briefly. He
swung down from his horse and lifted Romana down after
him, still holding her in his arms. ‘There, that wasn’t too bad
was it?’
      ‘There’s no need to carry me, you know. I can still walk!’
      Count Grendel ignored her. ‘Till, see to my horse. And
summon Madame Lamia!’
      Till bowed and tugged at his forelock. ‘Yes, Master.’ He
led the horse away.
      Count Grendel carried Romana through the arched
doorway, along a maze of gloomy stone corridors. ‘Madame
Lamia is my surgeon. She’ll take care of you.’
      He carried her into a stone walled chamber. There were
bars on the windows and flagstones on the floor, but the room
was brightly lit and its walls were lined with complex
technological equipment. It felt like a cross between an
operating theatre and a dentist’s surgery, and Romana didn’t
like the look of it at all.
      Count Grendel laid her down on a low couch. ‘There
you are! Madame Lamia will be here in a moment.’
      ‘Thank you. You won’t forget to register my stone, will
you?’
      ‘Stone? Oh yes, the crystal.’ Count Grendel tapped his
belt-pouch. ‘I’ll see to it in a moment. Ah, there you are,
Lamial’
      A tall, dark-haired woman came into the room. She
wore a severe white robe and she was strikingly attractive in
an intense almost angry way. ‘I received your message, my
lord.’ Her tone was respectful, but only just.
      The Count smiled at Romana. ‘This is Madame Lamia,
my surgeon-engineer.’
      Lamia was staring at Romana in utter astonishment.
‘That face—I don’t believe it!’
      ‘What’s the matter with it?’ asked Romana indignantly.
      Lamia looked at the Count. ‘It’s incredible, a marvellous
job. Who made it?’
       ‘The question is not so much who, as why?’
       Lamia shrugged. ‘I’m a peasant, I leave politics to my
betters.’
       Count Grendel touched her cheek. ‘Very wise of you,
my dear.’
       Madame Lamia’s eyes flashed angrily, but she said
nothing, standing quite still under Count Grendel’s touch.
       Romana looked curiously at them both, puzzled by the
tension between them. It was obvious that they were more to
each other than master and servant—and something else was
obvious too. For all her fiercely independent spirit, Madame
Lamia was frightened of the Count. Romana decided she’d
had enough of this strange pair. She sat up. ‘Look, I’ve no
idea what you two are talking about, and I think it’s time I
left.’
       ‘Restrain her, Lamia,’ said Count Grendel coldly.
       Madame Lamia took Romana by the shoulders and
thrust her back on the couch. Romana struggled wildly, but
the dark woman was astonishingly strong. Count Grendel
touched a control and broad iron damps arched up over
Romana’s body, clamping her to the couch.
       ‘What do you want me to do with her, my lord?’ Count
Grendel leaned over Romana, and took her head between his
hands, studying it thoughtfully. ‘We can’t have her running
about the kingdom, can we? You’d better disassemble her.
Perhaps we can cannibalise her for parts. I should like to keep
her head, though. You’re right, it really is a marvellous job.’
       Romana stared wildly at them, wondering if she’d fallen
into the hands of a pair of murderous lunatics.
       To her horror she saw Lamia take a piece of equipment
from a rack on the wall. It was a long, fine-toothed electrical
hand-saw. It whirred menacingly as Lamia switched it on.
       Madame Lamia put down the saw, picked up a soft-
tipped marking pen, and used it to draw a neat circle around
Romana’s neck. ‘I shall make the incision here, I think.’
       Count Grendel smiled. ‘Excellent! I always enjoy
watching you work, my dear.’
       ‘Thank you, my lord.’ Madame Lamia picked up the
electro-saw again and leaned over Romana.
       Romana summoned up all the icy dignity of a Time
Lady. ‘Far be it from me to question this lady’s competence,
Count Grendel, but where I come from you don’t cure a
sprained ankle by cutting off the patient’s head!’
       Lamia paused, the whirring saw inches from Romana’s
throat. ‘Ankle?’
       ‘There was some kind of minor damage to its ankle,’
said Count Grendel casually.
       Lamia switched off the saw, moved to the edge of the
couch and ran her fingers over Romana’s ankles. In an
incredulous voice she said. ‘Her left ankle appears to be
swollen!’
       ‘Well, of course it is,’ said Romana. ‘What did you
expect?’
       Lamia turned to the Count. ‘My lord, she is not an
android.’
       ‘What?’
       ‘Android plasti-flesh does not bruise or swell. This girl is
real!’
       ‘Oh, brilliant,’ muttered Romana.
       Count Grendel leaned over Romana and stroked her
cheek. ‘In that case, you may keep your pretty head on your
body, my dear. I have a use for both!’
       The Doctor was taken to a secluded hunting lodge in the
forest, a simple two-storey structure built from carved wooden
logs.
       Zadek climbed the short flight of steps that led to the
front door and went inside, the Doctor followed and the
young man, Farrah, came after them, his sword point levelled
at the Doctor’s back.
       The Doctor found himself in a big wood-panelled room
which took up most of the lower floor of the house. A long
table ran down its centre of the room, surrounded by heavy
wooden chairs with high ornately carved backs. There was an
assortment of comfortable chairs arranged around a stone
fireplace, and at the rear of the room a short flight of steps
gave access to a balcony and a number of doors, presumably
leading to the sleeping quarters. Zadek went up the steps, and
disappeared through the central door.
       As the Doctor stood looking around him, a shove
between the shoulder-blades sent him staggering into the
centre of the room. He turned round angrily and saw Farrah
grinning at him from the doorway.
       The Doctor tried to move forward, and found he
couldn’t ‘Do you mind,’ he said mildly. ‘You’re treading on
my scarf!’
       Farrah’s sword flashed in an arc of light, and the
charred end of the Doctor’s scarf dropped smoking to the
floor.
       The Doctor took a step towards Farrah. ‘If you go on
doing that, you’re going to have to kill me!’
       There was a sword in Farrah’s hand and the Doctor was
unarmed—but suddenly Farrah was frightened.
      A voice from the balcony said, ‘Do forgive Swordsman
Farrah. He tends towards over-enthusiasm, particularly in the
service of his Prince.’
      The Doctor turned. Zadek had returned to the balcony.
With him was a slender, handsome man in an elaborate gold-
trimmed uniform.
      The Doctor scowled at the singed end of his scarf. ‘Well,
he’d better be good at knitting, that’s all!’
      ‘Speak with respect, peasant,’ snapped Zadek. ‘You
address Prince Reynart of Tara.’
      The Doctor made an elaborate bow. ‘Honoured, Your
Highness.’ He glared at Zadek. ‘I keep telling you, I am not a
peasant.’
      The Prince came down the steps. ‘But you do know how
to repair an android?’
      ‘That depends.’
      Zadek’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. ‘Upon what?’
      The Prince put a restraining hand on Zadek’s arm.
‘Upon how well we treat him! Of course you are no peasant,
Doctor. Very well, let me make you an offer. Five hundred
gold pieces if you will mend our android.’
      ‘If you think I can be bought—’ began the Doctor
angrily, then stopped himself. If he refused their money,
these fools would simply offer him more. If that didn’t work,
they would try to force him to help them by threats. Simpler
to take the money, do the job and go. ‘You did say five
hundred gold pieces?’
      ‘I did.’
      ‘Done! But suppose I can’t manage to repair your
android?’
      ‘Then we shall let Swordsman Farrah have you for
sword practice!’ snarled Zadek.
       Prince Reynart laughed. ‘We shall do no such thing,
Zadek. This man is obviously a gentleman. If he can mend
our android we shall reward him. If he cannot...’ He smiled
pleasantly at the Doctor. ‘I give you my word, whatever
happens you will not be harmed. You can go free.’
       ‘Thank you very much,’ said the Doctor and headed for
the door.
       Farrah sprang to bar his way.
       ‘Not yet, Doctor,’ said Prince Reynart smoothly. ‘First
the android.’
       ‘All right, let’s see it!’
       The Prince nodded to Zadek, who swept back a curtain
to reveal a wheeled trolley. Upon it lay a motionless, blank-
faced figure. ‘There he is, Doctor.’
       The Doctor removed the inspection plate from the
android’s head and began checking the separate circuits, one
by one. ‘Not a bad piece of work—mind you, I’ve seen better.’
       The Prince watched in fascination. ‘Don’t you some-
times wish, Zadek, that custom permitted us to learn these
skills?’
       ‘With respect, no, Your Highness. Had we been meant
to learn peasant skills, we’d have been born peasants.’
       Prince Reynart sighed, a little regretfully. ‘Perhaps
you’re right.’
       It was an interesting exchange, the Doctor thought, and
one which revealed much about Taran society. Technological
skills had been developed, but had remained in the hands of
the peasant classes. The aristocracy had clung to its traditions,
ruling in the same old-fashioned ways. Perhaps it wasn’t so
very strange after all. A medieval knight had to know how to
use a sword, but no one expected him to be able to make one.
Even in Queen Victoria’s navy, Engineering Officers had been
regarded as a lower form of life.
       Prince Reynart’s voice broke in on his reflections. ‘Well,
Doctor? Can our android be repaired?’
       ‘That depends what you want him to do.’
       Zadek came forward with a plastic case, which he passed
to the Prince.
       Prince Reynart opened the case and held it out to the
Doctor. ‘For one thing, he must wear this!’ A face looked at
the Doctor out of the box, or rather a face-mask. It bore the
features of Prince Reynart. The Doctor looked from the mask
to Prince Reynart’s face. ‘Why? Why do you need an android
double?’
       ‘Tomorrow, I am to be crowned King of Tara. The
ceremony will take place at the appropriate hour, fixed by the
Court Astrologers, in the great Coronation Room in the
Palace of Tara.’
       The Doctor bowed. ‘Congratulations, Your Majesty.’
       Prince Reynart smiled wryly. ‘The congratulations, and
the title will be in order only if I reach the Coronation Room
alive.’
       ‘Who’s going to stop you?’
       ‘Count Grendel of Gracht, if he can. He’ll kill me if
necessary. You can’t crown a dead prince. But the first thing
he’ll do is to post men watching every entrance to the Palace,
to prevent me from arriving on time. And if they succeed in
delaying me...’
       ‘Would it be so serious? I thought Kings were allowed to
be late?’
       ‘Not on Tara. If I fail to appear at precisely the right
moment it will be taken that the stars do not favour my
accession. I shall lose my right to the crown.’
         ‘And I take it Count Grendel of Gracht is the next in
line?’
       ‘The only other contender for the throne is the Princess
Strella—she disappeared some time ago.’
       The Doctor indicated to the android. ‘And where does
George here fit into all this?’
       It was Zadek who replied. ‘There have already been
three attempts on His Highness’s life. The next one could be
successful.’
       ‘So you plan to let them attack George instead?’
       Prince Reynart nodded eagerly. ‘Precisely. We use
George—that is to say, we use my android copy—to create a
diversion, distract their attention.’
       ‘Draw their fire?’ suggested the Doctor helpfully.
       Zadek said grimly. ‘We’ve already tried the scheme
once—the android took the Prince’s place in a hunting party.
There was an assassin in the forest with a cross-bow. The
Prince escaped unhurt, but the android fell when its horse
bolted.’
       ‘We feared it was damaged beyond repair; explained
Prince Reynart. ‘Now, thanks to you Doctor, we can use the
android to draw Grendel’s fire while I slip past his guards into
the Coronation Room. Do you think the plan will work,
Doctor?’
       ‘A substitute Prince, eh?’ The Doctor smiled. ‘Why not—
it’s been done before!’

         ‘I don’t like it,’ protested Madame Lamia.
         Count Grendel smiled. ‘I don’t ask you to like it. Just do
it l’
         ‘But think of the risk, my lord. Is it wise?’
         ‘Do you question my commands?’
      ‘No, my lord, of course not. Have I not proved my
loyalty a thousand times?’
      ‘Then do as I tell you, or I shall have you flogged,’ said
Count Grendel with a kind of silky brutality. ‘And don’t
imagine that I won’t.’
      Madame Lamia went pale. ‘Very well, my lord.’ She
crossed to a wall cabinet and took out a syringe.
      Clamped to the table, Romana looked on in horror, as
Madame Lamia filled the syringe from a phial of colourless
fluid and came towards her.
      ‘No!’ she gasped. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She
felt Lamia rolling back her sleeve, there was the prick of an
injection, and a few seconds later, Romana floated away on a
cloud of darkness.

       The immaculately uniformed figure at the table raised
its glass in salute. ‘Congratulations, Doctor, and thank you.
Now I must retire. Goodnight, gentlemen.’ The figure put
down its glass, rose and went up to the balcony and
disappeared through one of the doors.
       Prince Reynart watched his android replica depart.
‘Excellent. Farrah, bring more wine.’
       Farrah hastened to obey.
       The Prince turned to the others. ‘You know, it’s eerie
seeing yourself walk and talk. I never thought you’d be able to
get it going again, Doctor.’
       ‘It’ll do all right for a time, Your Majesty, but it’s only
patched up. If I had the proper tools...’
       ‘Never mind, it’s good enough to fool Grendel’s men,
eh, Zadek?’
       ‘I sincerely hope so, Your Highness—for all our sakes.’
       ‘Always the pessimist, Zadekl We owe you our thanks,
Doctor. Zadek?’
       Zadek put a leather pouch on the table. ‘Five hundred
gold pieces.’
       As the Doctor slipped the money into his pocket, Prince
Reynart said, ‘You wouldn’t be interested in a permanent
post, Doctor, once I am King?’
       The Doctor shook his head firmly. ‘Sorry, but I’m
otherwise engaged.’ It was about time he found out what had
happened to Romana.
       Farrah came up from the cellar with a tray which held
glasses and a dusty wine bottle.
       ‘A pity, Doctor; said Prince Reynart smoothly. ‘Still, at
least you’ll join us in a toast to our success?’
       ‘Well, I don’t usually indulge,’ said the Doctor.’Perhaps
just a small one.’
       Farrah poured the wine and handed round the glasses.
       ‘Just one of our local wines, Doctor,’ said the Prince,
‘But I think you’ll find it palatable.’
       Zadek raised his glass. ‘With your permission, Your
Highness—to the King!’
       The others raised their glasses. ‘The King!’
       The Doctor didn’t think much of the local wine—it had
a curiously bitter tang to it—but he drained his glass politely
and set it down.
       Farrah tried to do the same. Somehow he missed the
table and his glass fell to the floor. Seconds later, Farrah fell as
well.
       ‘Must be pretty potent stuff,’ said the Doctor owlishly.
He was feeling a little strange himself.
       Prince Reynart gasped, clutched at his throat and
collapsed.
      ‘Treachery!’ growled Zadek. He reached for his sword,
but he was unconscious before the weapon left the sheath.
      The Doctor felt as if his legs had turned to lead. He rose
and staggered towards the door, each step costing him
enormous effort.
      The door seemed to recede before him. To his
astonishment he saw that it was opening.
      The Doctor crashed to the ground, falling at the feet of
the man who had just entered the room.
      Count Grendel of Gracht stepped over the Doctor’s
body and came into the room, his men at his heels.
      He looked down at the unconscious body of Prince
Reynart and smiled.
                         4
                    The Princess
      A savage jab from a booted foot jerked the Doctor from
his drugged sleep. He looked up to see a uniformed figure
looming over him. The Doctor groaned, and shook his aching
head. ‘So much for the local brew.’
      His vision cleared and he saw without much surprise
that it was Farrah who was kicking him. ‘Wake up, traitor! I
want you to be quite conscious when I kill you!’
      The Doctor struggled slowly to his feet. Farrah drew his
sword. ‘Oh, go away,’ said the Doctor wearily. ‘Haven’t you
got anything better to do?’
      ‘Only one thing’s stopping me from running you
through right now!’
      ‘And what’s that?’
      ‘I want to know where he is.’
      The Doctor collapsed into a chair. ‘Where who is? What
the devil are you talking about?’
      Farrah raised his sword.
      A voice snapped. ‘That’s enough, Farrah!’ Zadek came
down the steps from the rear balcony. His tunic collar was
unbuttoned and his hair dishevelled; it was obvious that he’d
been splashing water on his face.
      ‘The Prince has gone, Doctor. Vanished. He’s been
kidnapped.’
      ‘Who by? Sorry, I mean, by whom?’
      It was Farrah who answered. ‘By your master, Count
Grendel. Who else?’
       ‘Look, I realise this is going to come as an awful shock to
you, but I don’t even know the Count.’
       ‘I’m inclined to believe you, Doctor,’ said Zadek.
       ’Thank you.’
       ‘But Swordmaster—’ protested Farrah.
       ‘Oh, use your intelligence, Farrah. If the Doctor was
involved, why would he remain behind once the Prince had
been taken? It doesn’t make sense.’
       The Doctor got up and went into the bedroom. A
moment later he was back, carrying the android. He dumped
it in a chair. ‘At least they didn’t take George.’
       ‘They took the real Prince,’ said Zadek bitterly. ‘What
use is the copy now?’
       The Doctor looked thoughtfully at hint. ‘It depends
what you’re going to do.’
       ‘We shall do what honour demands.’
       ‘What’s that?’
       ‘Swordsman Farrah and I will take our swords and do
battle with the Count’s men.’
       ‘Just the two of you?’
       ‘Us and a handful of others. The Prince has first claim to
the throne, but his house is old and impoverished. We cannot
hire mercenaries like Grendel. Besides, Castle Gracht is
almost impregnable...’
       ‘So you’ll probably all get killed?’
       Farrah drew himself up. ‘A Swordsman does not fear
death, if he dies with honour.’
       ‘Then he’s an idiot,’ said the Doctor cheerfully. ‘Let me
see if I understand the situation. In order to be crowned
King, the Prince must present himself at the Coronation Room
at precisely the appointed hour, right?’
       Zadek nodded stiffly. ‘That is correct’
      ‘Then there’s no problem.’ The Doctor nodded to-wards
the android. ‘You’ve still got a Prince. Get him to the
Coronation Room and have him crowned.’
      Zadek was horrified. ‘Crown an android King of Tara?
Never?’
      ‘Would you rather crown Count Grendel?’
      Farrah too was shocked. ‘But an android—it’s
unthinkable.’
      Zadek was over his shock and was beginning to consider
the plan seriously. ‘Even if we tried, Doctor, Grendel’s men
would still try to stop us getting into the Coronation Room.’
      The Doctor sensed Zadek was holding something back.
‘You’d have faced that problem anyway, if you’re
outnumbered, I don’t imagine Prince Reynart was planning
to walk in through the front door, was he?’
      ‘The Prince had a plan.’
      ‘Well?’
      Almost reluctantly, Zadek said, ‘There is a hidden
passage...’
      ‘Does Grendel know about it?’
      ‘I hope not. It is an old secret of the Prince’s family.’
      The Doctor grinned. ‘You know, I thought it might be
something like that. Well, there you are, then. I’ll do a bit
more work on the android, and you and Farrah can take him
along and get him crowned. Grendel will be thrown into
confusion, and the android can rule the country long enough
for you to find the real Prince. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?’
      Zadek frowned. ‘I can see two obstacles to your plan,
Doctor.’
      ‘Only two? What are they?’
      ‘What if the android breaks down again?’
      ‘Well, it’s possible, I admit. What’s the second problem?’
      ‘Security. If the slightest hint of our scheme gets out, it
will mean disaster.’
      ‘I don’t see that that’s a problem. Only the three of us
here need ever know anything about it.’
      ‘Precisely. Farrah, I know I can trust. But you, Doctor—’
      ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be light years away by the time George
is King of Tara.’
      Zadek smiled grimly. ‘No, Doctor. You see. I have
thought of a way to deal with both problems. You will remain
with the android at all times.’
      ‘Oh no, Zadek. I’ve got more important things to do
than get mixed up in the politics of your piffling little planet.’
      Farrah’s sword flashed out and the point hovered inches
from the Doctor’s throat. ‘On the other hand,’ said the Doctor
thoughtfully, ‘I could just stay with the android at all times.’
      Romana was quite right, he thought ruefully. He really
must stop getting mixed up in other people’s problems.
      Farrah watched suspiciously, as the Doctor went over to
the door, opened it, took a small metal object from his
pockets, put it to his lips and blew. The surprising thing was
that there was no sound.
      ‘What are you doing?’
      ‘I’m calling my dog.’
      ‘I don’t see any dog,’ said Farrah puzzled.
      ‘Don’t worry. You will!’

       Inside the TARDIS, K9 came suddenly to life. His head
lifted, his tail antenna wagged and his eye-screens lit up.
‘Master?’ K9 moved his head to and fro, fixing the direction
from which the subsonic signal was corning. Then he sent out
a signal of his own, one which operated the remote-control
setting of the TARDIS doors. The doors swung open, and K9
glided away.

       The Doctor was rechecking his work on the android,
wondering if it would stand up to the strains ahead. After all,
when he’d repaired it, no one had told him it was to be
crowned King of Tara.
       Zadek was watching anxiously. ‘Everything is in order?’
       ‘Well, apart from the fact that half his micro-circuitry’s
burnt out, his bio-mechanisms’s on the blink and his
powerpacks seem to need constant recharging—yes!’
       ‘I have every confidence in your work—’ began Zadek.
       ‘I’m deeply touched!’
       ‘But remember, either Farrah or myself will be with you
at all times. Don’t let us down—will you, Doctor?’
       The Doctor sighed. He was getting rather fed up with
being threatened. ‘Now look here, Zadek—’
       A familiar voice interrupted him. ‘You called, Master?’
K9 was standing in the doorway.
       Zadek swung round in alarm. ‘What is that thing?’
       ‘Thing?’ repeated the Doctor indignantly. ‘That’s my
dog!’
       ‘But it’s a machine!’
       ‘Well? So’s your Prince, isn’t he?’
       With his usual reaction to any new threat, Farrah drew
his sword and advanced on K9.
       ‘I really wouldn’t do that, old chap,’ advised the Doctor.
‘K9 doesn’t like being threatened either, do you, K9?’
       Ignoring the warning, Farrah waved his blade
threateningly. K9 raised his head, gave an electronic growl,
and fired a low-intensity blast from his photon-blaster.
      Farrah gave a yell, and dropped the sword as if it had
suddenly become red-hot.
      The Doctor grinned. ‘I hate to say I told you so—but I
told you so!’ He bent down and patted K9. ‘Where’s Romana?
I thought she’d come with you.’
      ‘The Mistress has not yet returned, Master.’
      ‘What? She was only supposed to be an hour—and that
was yesterday!’
      ‘You have lost a companion, Doctor?’ asked Zadek.
      ‘My assistant, Romana. She went off to look for
something.’
      ‘What?’
      ‘Never you mind.’
      ‘Tara can be a dangerous place for strangers. Where did
you see her last?’
      ‘Close to where you two picked me up.’
      ‘Which way did she go?’
      ‘I’m not sure. Away up the hill somewhere?’
      Cautiously Farrah picked up his sword. ‘She was
heading towards Count Grendel’s Castle then.’
      ‘What?’
      Zadek nodded. ‘I’m afraid it looks as if your friend may
have fallen into the hands of the Count’
      The Doctor headed for the door. ‘Then I must get her
out of there.’
      Zadek mused to bar his way. ‘Wait, Doctor. We still need
your help.’ His hand was on his sword-hilt. Farrah too was
poised, ready to attack. Persuasively, Zadek went on. ‘Castle
Gracht is almost impregnable, and Count Grendel is a cruel
and ruthless foe. Try to rescue your friend alone, and he will
kill you—and her as well. But it you help Prince Reynart to
gain the throne, you will have the aid of the King of Tara in
your task. The only way you can help your friend, is by
helping us.’

       Romana awoke to find herself still on the some couch,
still with Count Grendel and Madame Lamia looking down at
her.
       ‘The lovely lady awakens,’ murmured Count Grendel.
       ‘Flow long have I been unconscious?’
       ‘Twelve hours, my dear. I trust you slept well? Release
her, Lamia.’
       Madame Lamia touched a control and the restraining
clamps slid back.
       Romana was horrified. ‘Twelve hours? Oh no!’
       Count Grendel helped her to sit up. ‘Why, whatever’s
the matter, my dear?’
       ‘Look, please let me go,’ said Romana desperately. ‘I’m
no possible use to you, I’ve got no money, and I’m not even
from Tara, so there’s no one to ransom me...’
       ‘Ransom you?’ Count Grendel seemed shocked. ‘Surely
you don’t think I’m just a common bandit?’
       ‘I don’t know. If you’re not a bandit, why kidnap me?
What use can I be to you.’
       ‘Come with me, my dear, and I’ll show you.’
       Romana let Count Grendel help her to her feet. She still
felt a little shaky, but she could walk well enough.
       ‘This way,’ said Count Grendel. ‘There’s something I
want to show you. Come, Lamia.’
       They led Romana away, out of the chamber, through
stone-flagged corridors and down a flight of steps. They came
to a narrow passage at the end of which was two cell doors. A
burly soldier stood on guard, raising his sword in salute as
Count Grendel approached.
      Count Grendel acknowledged the salute with a casual
nod ‘How is our guest, Sergeant Kurster?’
      ‘Well enough, my lord.’
      Grendel moved to the peephole set into the cell door.
‘Let’s see for ourselves.’ He glanced through the peephole
and then beckoned for Romana. ‘Take a look, my dear.’
      Romana peered into the cell. It was a bare, stone-walled
dungeon. Some attempt had been made to make it more
comfortable. There were rugs, a table and some chairs.
      An ornately gowned young woman sat by the barred
window, busy on a large tapestry-frame. As Romana watched
she gave a sigh of boredom, and raised her head.
      Romana gave a gasp of astonishment.
      She was looking at herself.
                       5
             The Prisoner of Gracht
      On closer study, Romana realised that the girl in the cell
wasn’t exactly like her. The hair was a little darker, the nose a
fraction longer, the forehead not quite so high. But it was
certainly an astonishing resemblance, one that would have
deceived anyone but the closest friend or relative.
      She looked at the Count. ‘It’s incredible.’
      Count Grendel gave a smile of satisfaction. ‘Yes, the
resemblance is extraordinary, isn’t it?’
      ‘Is she an android?’
      ‘Good Heavens no, my dear. She is Princess Strella, first
lady of Tara. A direct descendant of the Royal House, Mistress
of the domains of Thervalde, Moretegarde and Freya.’ Count
Grendel smiled. ‘In fact, the most eligible young lady on Tara.
Shortly to become, in fairly rapid succession, my fiancée, my
bride and then my much-lamented late wife.’ He sighed. ‘It
will be a most tragic accident, a lovely flower cut off in her
prime. Naturally, as her widowed husband, I shall claim her
estates, her wealth and her position as second in line to the
throne—all strictly according to the Laws of Tara. In short,
my marriage will reinforce my claim to the throne, and my
widowhood will give me the wealth to make sure I keep it.’
      Romana was horrified by the ruthlessness of Grendel’s
schemes. But was puzzled too. ‘You’ve already got a Princess.
What do you need me for?’
      ‘In case of accidents, my dear. The Princess does not
entirely agree with my plan.’
      ‘I’m not surprised!’
      Count Grendel shook his head, as if unable to
understand such unreasonable obstinacy. ‘In fact, between
you and me, she quite refuses to cooperate. She actually says
she’d sooner die than marry me.’
      ‘Good for her! I still don’t see what all this has got to do
with me.’
      ‘Don’t you, my dear? I’d have thought that was obvious.
If the Princess goes on refusing, and if, sadly, something
should happen to her... I can marry you instead—in front of
the assembled nobles of Tara, who won’t know the difference.’
      ‘What happens if I refuse too?’
      Count Grendel gave his sinisterly charming smile. ‘Ah,
but you won’t, my dear. I can be very persuasive. Aren’t I a
lucky man to have a choice of two such beautiful women for
my bride?’
      Madame Lamia gave a little hiss of anger.
      Romana said, ‘Apparently some of your household staff
don’t agree.’
      Count Grendel said carelessly. ‘I’m afraid Madame
Lamia is prejudiced, my dear. Just because I once showed her
a certain courtesy, she had hopes of becoming my Countess.’
He sighed. ‘That’s the trouble with peasants these days, they
don’t know their place any more.’
      Romana couldn’t help feeling sorry for Madame Lamia
who was burning with anger, but clearly too terrified to speak.
      The Count moved across to the second cell door. ‘Open
up, Kurster.’
      The massive sergeant unlocked the door, and threw it
open. This cell was just a cell, and nothing more, the only
furnishing a filthy straw mattress. A man lay on the mattress
and Romana saw with horror that there was a metal collar
around his neck. The collar was fastened by a length of chain
to an iron ring set in the cell wall. The man wore boots and
trousers, and the tattered remains of a once magnificent silk
shirt. One arm was in a sling, his face was white, and his eyes
burned feverishly. He raised himself on one elbow as the cell
door opened. ‘Come to gloat, Grendel? Why don’t you just
kill me and get it over with?’
       ‘I never rush my pleasures, my dear Reynart,’ said
Count Grendel suavely. ‘I’ve brought someone to see you.’ He
turned to Romana. ‘Allow me to present His Royal Highness,
Prince Reynart, first in line to the throne of Tara.’
       At the sight of Romana’s face the captive leaned forward
eagerly. ‘Strella!’
       Romana shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. I just happen
to look like her. My name’s Romana.’
       Count Grendel smiled at his prisoner’s confusion.
       ‘You see, my dear Reynart, when I play for high stakes I
like to hold all the cards.’
       Roman pushed past him, and knelt beside the man on
the bed. She took hold of his wrist, and felt his pulse. ‘Well,
you won’t hold this one much longer, if you’re not careful.
He’s running a fever.’
       ‘That’s why we brought him a permanent nurse for his
bedside.’
       Romana looked round. ‘Oh, yes? Who’s that then?’
       ‘You, my dear!’ Count Grendel’s voice hardened. ‘Hold
her, Kurster. Lamia the collar.’
       Before Romana could move, the massive guard seized
her above the elbows. Madame Lamia produced a second
neck ring from a corner of the cell. It too was linked to a ring
in the cell wall by a length of chain.
       Romana struggled wildly, but the guard’s grip was firm.
       ‘Let her go,’ shouted Prince Reynart.
      Count Grendel shoved him back on the bed. ‘Don’t be
so tediously heroic, there’s a good fellow.’
      Lamia slipped the collar around Romana’s neck. Count
Grendel looked on in amusement. ‘Not too tight, Lamia. We
don’t want to choke her, do we?’
      Lamia fastened the collar and stepped back. ‘She is
secure, my lord.’
      The guard let go of Romana’s arms, and went back to
the door. ‘Splendid,’ said Count Grendel affably. ‘You really
ought to thank me you know, Reynart!’
      ‘For what?’
      ‘For finding you such a charming nurse. Guard our
guests well, Kurster. Watch them constantly.’
      ‘Yes, my lord.’
      Count Grendel ushered Lamia out, and paused in the
cell doorway for a last look at the Prince. ‘And now, my
friend, I must leave for your Coronation. Such a pity you
won’t be there!’
      The cell door danged shut behind him.

      ‘How far away is Count Grendel’s castle?’ demanded the
Doctor.
      ‘About eight leagues due west,’ said Zadek. ‘Why do you
ask, Doctor? You’re not still thinking of going there? Even if
your friend is Grendel’s prisoner we can’t be sure that he’s
holding her at the castle.’
      ‘Where else might he have taken her?’
      ‘To the city of Tara itself, perhaps. He’s bound to be
there for the Coronation—he’ll want to make sure no one else
claims the throne.’
      The Doctor considered. ‘K9 you take the castle, I’ll go to
Tara with George and our two friends here.’
       ‘You’re still going to help us then, Doctor?’ asked Zadek.
       ‘It looks like it. If Romana is in Tara she’ll probably be
somewhere in the Palace—and you’re the only one who can
get me in there, right?’
       ‘That is correct’
       The Doctor turned to K9. ‘All I want you to do is to find
out whether or not Romana is in the castle. As soon you’ve
done that, report back to me, understood?’
       ‘Understood, Master.’
       ‘Off you go then!’
       The Doctor opened the door, and K9 glided out of the
hunting lodge.
       ‘Is he a good hunting dog?’ asked Farrah curiously.
       ‘He’ll find her, if she’s there.’
       ‘You wouldn’t be interested in selling him?’
       ‘Why don’t you ask K9 about it, when he gets back?’
suggested the Doctor.
       Farrah rubbed his still-tingling hand. ‘No, thank you,
Doctor, I don’t think I will!’
       ‘It’s time we were leaving,’ said Zadek impatiently. ‘The
horses, Farrah.’
       The Doctor turned to the android, which had been
sitting motionless in its chair all this while. ‘Come along, Your
Royal Highness.’
       The android Prince rose, and walked stiffly from the
room.

     An hours hard ride brought them to the edge of the
dense wood that surrounded the Palace of Tara. They left the
horses in the charge of one of Prince Reynart’s men,
continued their journey on foot.
       Zadek led them to the nest of a wooded rise and pointed
downwards. ‘There you are, Doctor. The Palace.’
       The Doctor looked at the enormous white building
below them, its innumerable towers and turrets crowded
inside an encircling wall. Flags were flying, guards patrolled
the ramparts and an endless line of people on horseback and
on foot, wound its way through the main gates.
       ‘There can’t be much time left,’ said Zadek. ‘Wait here,
I’ll go and find the tunnel entrance.’
       ‘Be careful, Swordmaster,’ said Farrah.
       Zadek nodded and slipped away through the trees.
       ‘He’s not so young as he was,’ Farrah seemed almost
ashamed of showing concern.
       The Doctor smiled. ‘I shouldn’t worry about him. I
imagine he’s still more than capable of taking care of himself.’
       Farrah was in a worrying mood. ‘What about the
android? Do you think the journey might have damaged
him?’ He turned to the android Prince who stood motionless
beside the Doctor. ‘Are you all right? How do you feel?’
       The android made no reply.
       Farrah looked worriedly at the Doctor. ‘Is he all right?’
       ‘I think so.’
       ‘Why isn’t he talking?’
       ‘I’ve switched off his speech-circuit to conserve energy.’
       Farrah nodded. ‘It’s a funny thing, but there’s some-
thing about androids... I know it’s silly, but somehow they
make me uneasy. You know what I mean...’
       The Doctor nodded. ‘A lot of people feel that way about
androids. Mind you, a lot of androids feel that way about
people!’
       Suddenly Zadek reappeared. ‘I’ve found the tunnel
entrance, but it’s guarded. This way.’
      He led them through the trees, halting them behind a
large clump of bushes. ‘Look!’
      The Doctor and Farrah peered around the bush and
saw what looked like the entrance to a small cave. It was
guarded by a black-clad figure carrying a cross-bow.
      ‘One of Grendel’s men,’ whispered Zadek. ‘It seems the
Count knew about the tunnel after all.’
      ‘I’ll deal with him,’ said Farrah confidently. He adjusted
a switch on his sword-hilt and slipped away.
      Bored, the guard marched up and down before the cave
mouth. He heard a rustling in the bushes to his left and
suddenly became alert, raising his crossbow. He moved
cautiously in the direction of the sound. Suddenly he heard
another sound, from behind him this time. The guard swung
round and saw a tall young man with a sword in his hand.
      It was the last thing he saw. Farrah lunged forwards,
and as his sword tip touched the guard’s tunic the man’s body
glowed with a colossal energy-charge, and dropped to the
ground. As he fell, his dying hand triggered the loaded
crossbow and a tree close by exploded in smoke and flame.
      Zadek hurried forward, the Doctor and the android
Prince close behind him.
      ‘A crossbow that fires electronic bolts,’ said the Doctor.
‘Fascinating!’
      ‘A peasants weapon,’ said Farrah dismissively.
      Zadek was already at the cave mouth. ‘Hurry, there isn’t
much time.’
      They followed him into the blackness of the cave. The
android Prince was on his way to his Coronation.
                        6
                 The Android King
      K9 followed the direction Zadek had indicated, doing
his best to keep out of sight on the way. Luckily, the
countryside was deserted; everyone had gone to the Palace of
Tara for the Coronation.
      K9 could move surprisingly quickly when he had to, and
before long the towers of Castle Gracht came into sight.
Deciding to avoid the main gate, he swung round in a wide
circle and approached the castle from the rear. A narrow
winding track led him to the edge of a broad, flat stretch of
water—the moat was barring his way. K9 considered. He had
a surprising range of abilities, but swimming wasn’t one of
them. K9 stood motionless for a moment, eyes glowing,
antennae quivering, his whole body throbbing with power. He
revolved first left and then right, sweeping the entire castle
with the ray. Suddenly he stopped. The throbbing died down
and K9 gave a brief electronic gurgle of satisfaction. He had
found what he was looking for—the distinctive alpha wave
pattern of Romana’s brainwaves. The trace was faint, muffled
by the thick stone walls, but it was there. Romana was
somewhere inside Castle Gracht.
      K9 spun round and moved away.

     Madame Lamia was in her android surgery, studying
the oddly shaped crystal that had been taken from Count
Grendel’s latest prisoner.
     She scratched at the crystal with a steel scalpel. Nothing
happened; the scalpel was unable to make the slightest mark.
      Madame Lamia fitted the crystal into a holding clamp
and attacked it with a high-speed electric drill. The drill-bit
shattered. The crystal was still unmarked.
      Lamia sat regarding the crystal with a baffled frown.
‘Curious... very curious.’ She had a feeling the crystal was
something very important indeed—if only she could discover
what it was...

       In the dungeon below, Romana was examining Prince
Reynart’s wound. It had been made by an electro-sword, and
it was ugly and inflamed. She restrapped the rough dressing,
trying to make him a little more comfortable.
       Prince Reynart winced. ‘How is it? Bad, eh?’ He was
pale and shivering, and his eyes glinted feverishly.
       ‘It’s not good,’ admitted Romana. ‘And in a place like
this... How did it happen?’
       ‘I came to, just as they were bringing me into the castle,
and tried to escape. One of Grendel’s men ran me through.’
       Romana settled him back on his mattress. ‘Look, don’t
try to talk. Save your strength.’
       ‘Save it for what?’
       ‘Escape, of course.’
       Prince Reynart rubbed his injured shoulder. ‘I’m not
going to be able to take on Grendel’s guards with this, am I?
Let alone swim the moat.’
       ‘Don’t worry,’ said Romana confidently. ‘The Doctor will
get us out of here.’
       ‘How? No one’s ever escaped from Castle Gracht.’
       ‘The Doctor will find a way.’
       ‘Soon, I hope,’ gasped Prince Reynart. ‘I’d hate to give
Grendel the pleasure of seeing me die in his blasted
dungeon.’
      Sword in hand, Zadek led the Doctor and the android
Prince along a gloomy echoing tunnel. Farrah brought up the
rear, alert for trouble.
      The Doctor looked curiously at the tunnel walls. They
were dank and dripping, but obviously man-made, lined with
blocks of stone. ‘What were these tunnels built for, originally?’
      ‘Plague,’ said Zadek briefly.
      ‘What?’
      ‘They were plague tunnels, built about two hundred
years ago. They allowed the Royal court to move in and out of
the palace without passing through the contaminated city.
The great plague wiped out nine tenths of Tara’s population.’
      The Doctor nodded, thinking that this accounted for the
curiously deserted feeling of Tara. The green and fertile
planet had only the smallest of populations. ‘I suppose that’s
why you developed the science of building androids—to
replace the missing people?’
      Farrah nodded. ‘They work in the factories and the
mines, till the fields. There’s still a good deal of prejudice
against them though. The noble families won’t even have
them as servants.’
      The Doctor nodded understandingly. ‘How much
further, Zadek?’
      ‘Quite a way. We’d better hurry.’

      When a squad of ten of Count Grendel’s men came to
reinforce the guard on duty at the tunnel entrance, he was
nowhere to be seen. A rapid search revealed his body, thrust
into the centre of a bush.
      The guards took their crossbows from their shoulders,
and hurried into the tunnel.
      Gorgeous in their elaborate ceremonial dress the
nobility of Tara were waiting outside the double doors that
led to the throne room.
      The men wore colourful military uniforms, stiff with
gold braid, sparkling with medals, the women wore court
dresses and their finest jewels.
      Count Grendel of Gracht stood a little apart from the
rest, studying the Great Clock of Tara which dominated the
ante-chamber. Elaborately decorated, its face covered with
complex astrological symbols, the Great Clock was hundreds
of years old, but still accurate to a micro-second. A jewelled
marker on the rim of the clock face indicated the precise
moment at which the new King of Tara must be crowned.
The big hand of the clock was very close to the marker now. It
quivered and moved a division nearer. Count Grendel smiled.
      Incongruous in plain black livery, the giant form of
Sergeant Kurster made his way to his master’s side.
‘Everything is ready, my Lord.’
      ‘The—peasants are prepared?’
      ‘Mercenaries, dressed as peasants are posted at strategic
points. As soon as it is announced that Prince Reynart has not
appeared for the Coronation, they will lead a spontaneous
demonstration of love and loyalty to the House of Gracht.’
      ‘And the Palace Guard?’
      ‘They have been taken care of.’
      ‘I think I shall reject the crown only once,’ mused Count
Grendel. ‘Rejecting it twice might be going too far. Besides,
I’m not sure I can trust the Archimandrite to offer it to me a
third time!’
      Impressive in his high crowned hat and gold-brocaded
robes, the Archimandrite of Tara was sweeping towards them.
A saintly-looking white-haired old man, he was head of the
Church of Tara, and the leading religious figure on the
planet. He was also a tough and wily old politician, with a
strongly developed sense of survival.
      Kurster faded discreetly into the background, and
Count Grendel bowed. ‘My Lord Archimandrite.’
      The Archimandrite looked at the Great Clock. By now
the big hand had moved several divisions closer to the
marker. ‘The hour approaches, Count Grendel.’
      ‘It does indeed, Your Eminence.’
      ‘But where is the Prince?’
      ‘I am sure he will make every effort to be here.’
      ‘If he misses the appointed hour of his Coronation, we
must chose another king from the nobles assembled. That is
the law,’ said the old man fussily.
      Count Grendel smiled again. ‘I know!’
      The Archimandrite looked hard at him. ‘In view of the
strange absence of Prince Reynart, and the even stranger
disappearance of the Princess Strella, your own claim would
appear to be the strongest, Count Grendel.’
      Count Grendel bowed. ‘You overwhelm me, Your
Eminence.’

      Zadek led his little party towards a sharp right-hand
bend in the tunnel. ‘The steps leading up to the Coronation
Chamber are just around here.’
      Suddenly, there was a shout from behind them, and a
chunk of masonry close to the Doctor’s head exploded in
smoke and flame.
      They turned, and saw a group of men running towards
them down the tunnel. More electronic crossbow bolts flashed
past them, exploding against the tunnel walls. They sprang
round the corner out of sight. Foot-steps rang along the
tunnel, coming closer.
      Zadek drew his sword. ‘Doctor, take the Prince and
make for the steps. We’ll ambush them here.’
      The Doctor turned and saw that the tunnel ended a few
yards further on in a steep flight of steps. He led the Prince
towards them.
      Farrah and Zadek waited, swords in their hands. The
guards hurled round the corner in a tightly packed group.
Zadek and Farrah sprang and the tunnel echoed with the
screams of dying men and the crackle of electro-swords. Four
of the guards died before they realised what was happening,
and the rest found themselves fighting for their lives. There
were half a dozen guards left on their feet after that first
savage attack, all tough, experienced fighters. The range was
too close for crossbow work now. They drew their swords and
pressed forward to the attack.
      Shoulder to shoulder, Zadek and Farrah stood them off,
electro-swords flashing in the darkness. Luckily, the tunnel
was only wide enough for their opponents to attack them two
at a time. Zadek was a Swordsmaster, Farrah a ranking
Swordman, and their fighting skills were far above those of
their opponents. But they were still outnumbered three to
one, and there was always the danger that one of the guards
in the rear would press close enough to slip home a killing
stroke.
      Zadek disposed of his opponent with relative ease. As
the man fell, he yelled, ‘There’s a lever at the top of the steps
Doctor, to your left. Pull it down. It opens a panel.’
      Farrah’s man fell, and two more guards moved forward
to the attack.
      Standing the android Prince aside, the Doctor groped
till he found the lever and heaved. It wouldn’t move. ‘It’s
stuck!’ he yelled. ‘When was it last used, two hundred years
ago?’
      Zadek thrust low, and another of Grendel’s guards
screamed and died. ‘Try again, Doctor,’ he yelled. ‘We must
get through!’
      The Doctor’s voice floated back. ‘It’s no good—it won’t
budge...’
      A savage slash from Farrah disposed of his opponent.
Only two guards left now.
      Zadek and Farrah fell back, pretending weariness,
luring their last two opponents to the foot of the steps. The
Doctor heaved desperately on the lever—and it shifted. Only
an inch or two... but it moved!
      Taking a deep breath the Doctor heaved again. ‘It’s
coming!’
      Swords flashing, Farrah and Zadek sprang forward...

      One more time-division and the big hand of the Great
Clock would touch the jewelled marker.
      ‘There is no sign of the Prince, Count Grendel,’ said the
Archimandrite worriedly.
      ‘He would appear to be late,’ agreed Count Grendel
sadly.
      ‘If he does not appear at the appointed time, it is my
duty to offer the crown to one of the other nobles. As I said,
your claim is a strong one. But there are other claimants...’
      Count Grendel smiled. ‘The decision is yours, and yours
alone, my dear Archimandrite. But you may rest assured that
you yourself, and whoever you choose to be King of Tara will
immediately be offered the full protection of my guards.’
      ‘Your guards?’ The Archimandrite glanced round. Black
uniformed men were filing through the door, taking up
strategic positions all round the room. ‘These are your men?’
      ‘The Palace Guard was—indisposed. I thought it only
right to offer my help.’
      The Archimandrite looked shrewdly at him. ‘Perhaps it
would be simpler if I offered you the crown now!’
      ‘Good heavens no, my dear Archimandrite. We must
wait for the exact moment. Everything must be done
correctly.’
      ‘Noble sentiments Count Grendel, and nobly spoken,’
said the old man drily. ‘But look—it is time!’
      The big hand quivered, jerked forward and touched the
jewelled marker—closing an electronic circuit.
      There was a fanfare of trumpets, and the double doors
to the Coronation Room swung open.
      Beyond them was a long, high-ceilinged hall, sun-light
streaming through stained glass windows, shining on ancient
faded tapestries. At the far end of the hall short wide steps led
up to a raised dais.
      On the dais was a throne—and on the throne sat Prince
Reynart orb and sceptre already in his hands.
      Zadek and Farrah stood one each side of the throne, the
Doctor was behind it.
      ‘Impossible!’ hissed Grendel.
      The Archimandrite seized his moment. He had never
cared much for Count Grendel, and he knew that despite the
presence of his guards, even the Count would not dare to
flout tradition completely.
      The Archimandrite strode forward, leading the
assembled nobles into the Coronation Room.
      When all were in position, he called. ‘Kneel! All kneel to
Prince Reynart, soon to be King of Tara.’
      The assembled nobles of Tara knelt. All except Count
Grendel, who stood glaring incredulously at the figure on the
throne. ‘Kneel!’ ordered the Archimandrite.
      Reluctantly, Grendel knelt.
      On a stand before the throne was a velvet cushion,
bearing a golden crown. The Archimandrite went over and
lifted the crown, holding it high above Reynart’s head.
‘Behold the Crown of Tara!’
      Prince Reynart lurched forward a fraction in his chair.
      Farrah and Zadek exchanged agonised glances.
      The Doctor held his breath.
      The android Prince stopped moving.
      The Archimandrite placed the crown on Prince
Reynart’s head. ‘Hail to the King! Hail to King Reynart of
Tara!’
      There was another flourish of electronic trumpets. The
chant crashed back from the crowd. ‘Hail! Hail to the King!’
      There was a sudden silence. The Archimandrite leaned
forward, and whispered, ‘Your Majesty, the speech of
accession! You must give the speech or the ceremony is not
complete.’
      King Reynart sat silent and motionless.
      The Doctor held his breath, wondering if the recently
repaired speech circuits would respond with the programmed
words.
      From the back of the hall, Count Grendel stared hard at
the silent King.
      Suddenly, King Reynart spoke. ‘My subjects... I
acknowledge your salutations, and swear that I will uphold
your rights and devote myself to defending and protecting
you at all times.’ His voice was a little faint, but quite distinct.
      The Doctor gave a great sigh of relief, and leaned closer
to Zadek. ‘I must do a bit more work on his speech circuits,’
he whispered.
      The Archimandrite raised his voice again. ‘Let all nobles
now swear the oath of fealty to the King, according to rank
and precedence. Let the first lady of Tara come forward.’
      A plump and matronly Grand Duchess was about to
move forward, when a slender gowned figure slipped past her
and mounted the steps.
      Count Grendel backed away.
      There was a murmur of astonishment from the crowd—
and no one was more surprised than the Doctor. ‘It’s
Romana!’
      Zadek shook his head. ‘It’s the Princess Strella,’ he
whispered. ‘The one who disappeared.’
      Princess Strella said, ‘I, Princess Strella, descendant of
the High Kings of Tara, Mistress of the domains of Thorvald,
Mortgarde and Freya, do humbly offer my loyalty to His
Majesty King Reynart, and do hereby recognise his
sovereignity.’ She knelt, as if to kiss the King’s hand.
      ‘Nol’ shouted the Doctor suddenly. Snatching the heavy
sceptre from the King, he smashed it down with savage force
on the kneeling girl’s head.
                        7
            Invitation to an Ambush
      There were shrieks of astonished horror, shouts of
anger. Several noblemen leaped forward, swords in their
hands.
      ‘Seize him,’ quavered the shocked Archimandrite. ‘He
has killed Princess Strella!’
      ‘No,’ shouted Farrah. ‘That is not the Princess. Look!’
      The face-mask of the fallen figure had been smashed
away, revealing a maze of electronic circuitry inside the skull.
      ‘It’s an android,’ whispered the Archimandrite.
      Zadek moved close to the Doctor. ‘How did you know?’
      ‘There must have been a minute circuit-defect. I heard
it sparking.’
      ‘It doesn’t make sense; the Archimandrite was pro-
testing. ‘Why send an android to swear loyalty to the King?’
      The Doctor came forward. ‘To get close enough to kill
him!’
      Count Grendel shoved his way to the front of the crowd
and glared furiously at the Doctor. He remembered seeing
this extraordinary-looking fellow unconscious on the floor
with the others, the night they’d kidnapped the Prince from
the hunting lodge. Count Grendel had assumed he was some
mountebank friend of Prince Reynart, and left him with the
others. It was galling to think he could have killed him then
with ease—instead of leaving him alive to spoil his plans.
      The Archimandrite said, ‘But who would wish to kill the
King. Unless—some rival claimant to the throne...’ He turned
and looked at Count Grendel, who said smoothly, ‘My dear
Archimandrite, what ever are you suggesting?’
      ‘Isn’t that obvious,’ snapped Zadek. ‘Treachery!
Treachery to the King!’
      ‘Take care what you say, Zadek,’ snarled Count Grendel.
Calming himself, he turned to the Archimandrite. ‘Your
Eminence, may I suggest that we postpone the rest of the
oath-taking ceremony? Who knows how many other
programmed androids there may be?’
      The old Archimandrite was horrified. ‘You think there
are more of these things?’
      ‘It is a possibility we must face, Your Eminence. I shall
leave my personal guards here to protect the King.’
      Zadek drew himself upright. ‘I am afraid I cannot
permit that, Count Grendel.’
      ‘The decision is not yours, Zadek,’ said Count Grendel
furiously.
      Zadek met his angry gaze, quite unafraid. ‘I command
His Majesty’s bodyguard. The decision is mine and mine
alone.’
      Suddenly, Count Grendel was looking at the King. ‘You
presume too much, Swordmaster Zadek. What does His
Majesty have to say on the subject? He is very silent’
      ‘His Majesty is tired, and suffering from the strain of the
occasion,’ said the Doctor hurriedly. ‘Why don’t we discuss
this matter later?’
      ‘Who the devil are you, sir?’ demanded Count Grendel
angrily.
      ‘I am the Royal Physician,’ said the Doctor with
immense dignity. ‘You can call me Doctor.’
      ‘Is His Majesty ill?’ asked the Archimandrite worriedly.
       ‘Oh, no, no! Nothing that a little rest won’t cure. He’ll
be fine by tomorrow.’
       The Archimandrite looked hard at him. ‘I understand
Doctor. Come, Count Grendel, we must leave His Majesty to
rest.’
       ‘But what of the danger?’ protested Grendel.
       The Doctor said, ‘There can be no danger, when the
King has his own personal staff to protect him. Can there,
Count Grendel?’
       With a snarl, Grendel turned away.
       The Archimandrite led the Court from the chamber,
and the other nobles followed them.
       As the doors swung closed, Zadek gave a sigh of relief.
He looked worriedly at King Reynart—still sitting a little
lopsidedly on his throne. ‘Will he be all right tomorrow,
Doctor?’
       ‘Not unless I recharge his power pack and repair his
speech circuits.’
       Farrah looked down at the faceless figure on the steps.
‘It’s a good job you realised she was an android.’
       ‘Well, I knew it wasn’t Romana. And when I heard the
sparking and saw Grendel start to back away—I guessed he
was using one of his contingency plans.’ The Doctor sighed. ‘I
wish I knew for sure where the real Romana was... And what’s
happened to K9?’

     Romana sat watching over Prince Reynart, who was
dozing fitfully on his straw mattress, tossing and turning, and
muttering in his sleep.
     Abruptly, the cell door was flung open with a crash and
two guards marched in. One unlocked Romana’s chain from
the wall-ring, the other pulled her roughly to her feet.
       Prince Reynart awoke with a start and shouted, ‘Let her
go, peasants! You have no right to lay hands on a lady!’ He
struggled to get up, but one of the guards shoved him brutally
back on to the mattress. Reynart collapsed, muttering
deliriously, and the guards marched Romana from the cell.
       They took her back to the android surgery, where
Madame Lamia was studying the crystal. She held it up as
Romana was thrust into the room. ‘This is yours, I believe?’
       ‘Yes.’
       ‘What is it? What is it made of?’
       ‘I’ve no idea. I found it near the castle the other day.’
       ‘You’re sure of that? It’s not like an substance I’ve ever
heard of round here. I’ve broken two diamond-tipped drills
on it’
       ‘Perhaps it’s some kind of quartz,’ said Romana casually.
‘May I have it back? I mean you don’t want it do you, it’s no
use to you.’
       She held out her hand.
       Madame Lamia shrugged. ‘I suppose not...’ she was
actually about to hand the crystal over, then changed her
mind. ‘I think I’ll keep it for a while.’
       ‘Whatever for?’
       ‘I’m curious... I have the strangest feeling that it’s part
of something... something very important.’
       The crystal was part of the Key to Time—one of the
most important objects in the cosmos, but Romana had no
intention of telling Madame Lamia that.
       There was shouting and cursing in the corridor out-side,
the clatter of booted feet, and Count Grendel burst into the
room, his faithful dwarf Till at his heels.
      Count Grendel was tired, travel stained and in a terrible
temper. He snatched off his riding cloak and hurled it at Till,
almost burying the little man in its folds.
      ‘It failed, Lamia!’ he bawled. ‘Your precious machine
failed. That Doctor saw at once that it was an android.’
      ‘The Doctor—’ began Romana. She stopped herself
quickly. Apparently the Doctor was alive and well and giving
Count Grendel trouble. Perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to reveal
she’d come to Tara as his companion.
      ‘My Lord, I did warn you that it wasn’t yet ready for
use,’ protested Lamia. ‘Who is this Doctor you speak of?’
      ‘Some strange fellow who seems to be assisting the
Prince,’ growled Grendel. His eyes were on Romana’s face.
‘You know this Doctor, I think?’
      ‘Never heard of him,’ said Romana innocently. Count
Grendel smiled cruelly. ‘I think you do... Lamia you will
prepare another android, an exact copy of our guest here,
precise to the last detail. I think she can help us to dispose of
this Doctor.’
      He nodded to the guards. They seized Romana and
dragged her towards the couch.

     The King of Tara sat on a high-backed chair in one of
the rooms of the Royal Suite, while the Doctor made precise
adjustments to the circuitry of his brain.
     There was a noise in the corridor and Zadek hurried in.
‘That robot dog of yours is back, Doctor. Caused quite a
commotion at the palace gates.’
     K9 glided into the room and announced importantly. ‘I
have found Mistress Romana. She is in the Castle of Gracht’
     The Doctor looked up eagerly. ‘You’re sure, K9?’
       ‘Affirmative Master. I detected her brain-wave pattern
quite distinctly.’
       ‘Good dog!’ The Doctor looked at Zadek. ‘That means
the Count now has Romana, the real Prince and probably the
real Princess as well,’
       ‘So Grendel holds all the cards!’
       The Doctor nodded towards the figure in the chair. ‘Not
all of them. We still have a King ourselves—of a sort’
       ‘Our King has shortly to attend an important meeting
with the Archimandrite and the College of Priests,’ said Zadek
grimly. ‘Will he be able to manage it?’
       The Doctor rubbed his chin. ‘K9, if I patched the carbon
and silicon circuits together, how long would the linkage
hold?’
       ‘Three hours, nine minutes, and ten point seven
seconds,’ replied K9 promptly.
       ‘Better than I thought! I think I can promise you,
Zadek, King George will acquit himself right loyally with the
Priesthood—just as long as the meeting doesn’t go on too
long.’
       ‘And if it does?’
       The Doctor gave a rueful grin. ‘If it does, there’ll be a
blue flash, a lot of smoke, and a nasty smell of burning
plastic...’

     Romana was strapped to the couch again, and Madame
Lamia was passing a hand-scanner above her face and body,
feeding the precise contours into a computer so that she could
reproduce them in android form.
     When the scan was finished, Lamia went over to the
computer read-out screen to study the results.
     Count Grendel was looking on. He smiled benignly
down at Romana. ‘Comfortable, my dear?’
     Romana scowled up at him, and said nothing.
     ‘My lord?’ called Lamia excitedly.
     ‘Well?’
     ‘There are some very unusual readings here! The alpha
waves are like nothing I have seen before. This girl is not
from Tara.’
     ‘From where, then?’ asked Grendel lazily. ‘What is she?’
     ‘I cannot tell. I need more time for evaluations.’ The
Count rose and stretched. ‘Time is something we do not have,
my dear. Just programme another android to kill—and make
sure it’s a perfect copy. The Doctor is not an easy man to
deceive.’
     Romana stared up at him in horror. Her android
double was to be used to kill the Doctor.

      The android King sat upright in his chair. He had just
been programmed for the coming meeting with the
Archimandrite, and Zadek was anxiously testing the results of
the Doctor’s briefing.
      ‘The question of monastic lands is bound to come up.
What is your Majesty’s position on the matter?’ The King
turned to look at him. ‘Monastic lands are held by religious
orders only under the protection of the crown—which can be
withdrawn at any time. However, I propose to continue that
protection—subject of course to the loyal support of my
Priesthood and adequate contributions to the Royal funds.’
Zadek shook his head wonderingly. ‘Excellent! You know
Doctor, I sometimes think that the Prince here—’
      ‘King!’ said the figure at the table firmly.
       ‘I beg your pardon Your Majesty—’ Zadek broke off.
‘You know, I keep forgetting he’s only an android. Trouble is,
Doctor the King seems to be... how shall I put it, a trifle
more...’
       The Doctor grinned. ‘More intelligent than the real
one? Well, of course he is. I programmed him.’
       Zadek lowered his voice. ‘Well, don’t make him too
intelligent Doctor. You can’t really trust androids you know.’
       ‘A lot of androids I know say that about humans,’ said
the Doctor solemnly. ‘Don’t worry, Zadek. Why be afraid of
something that goes bang when it gets a short-circuit?’
       Farrah marched into the room. ‘A visitor for the Doctor.’
       Zadek frowned. ‘Who is it?’
       A squat broad-shouldered figure thrust its way past
Farrah and came into the room. ‘My name is Till, bodysers
ant to Count Grendel.’
       Zadek looked suspiciously at him. ‘And what do you
want here?’
       ‘My mission is with the Doctor, not with you—
Swordmaster.’ The little man’s voice turned the title into an
insult.
       Touchy as ever, Farrah reached for his sword, ‘How
dare you speak thus to a Master of the Sword, you miserable
lout!’
       Till was unmoved. ‘I speak only with the Doctor,
Swordsman. Those are my orders.’
       The Doctor stood up. ‘Quite right too, we peasants must
stick together.’ He took Till by the arm and led him to the far
end of the room. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
       Till lowered his voice. ‘I bear a message from Madame
Lamia.’
       ‘And who might she be?’
       ‘She is Count Grendel’s woman. A peasant, like me.’
       ‘Well?’
       ‘Madame Lamia fears for the Count’s safety. Now that
your android has been crowned King, Count Grendel’s
political power is slipping away... she fears he will fail, be
captured and executed...’ Till lowered his voice still further.
       At the other end of the room Zadek and Farrah listened
hard, but they could hear no more than a low rumble.
       ‘He can be trusted, I suppose?’ muttered Farrah. ‘Who?
Grendel’s servant?’
       ‘No. the Doctor.’
       ‘I hope so,’ said Zadek. ‘We know very little about him.’
       Farrah looked at the two figures at the other end of the
room. They were still talking in low, urgent voices.
       ‘I don’t like it,’ said Farrah suddenly. ‘I’m going to put a
stop to this.’
       His hand went to his sword.
       K9 swung round to cover him. ‘Do not activate that
sword...’
       Farrah took his hand away from his sword-hilt. ‘Good
dog,’ he said uneasily. ‘Good dog.’
       Till nodded to the Doctor and strode out of the room,
ignoring the others. The Doctor came over to them. ‘Madame
Lamia is offering us a deal.’
       ‘You refused, of course.’
       ‘No, I accepted,’ said the Doctor cheerfully. ‘I’ve got to
take a written guarantee signed by you, Zadek, on behalf of
the King, that Count Grendel won’t be harmed. In return,
Madame Lamia and her friends will hand Romana, the Prince
and the Princess over to me. She wants me to meet her,
tonight. Says she’ll release Romana first, as a gesture of good
faith.’
       ‘It’s a trap,’ said Farrah. ‘You can’t possibly go.’
       ‘Of course it’s a trap—and of course I’m going! If they
really do bring Romana, I can get her away from them at
least.’
       Zadek looked dubious. ‘And where is this meeting to
take place?’
       ‘Somewhere poetically called the Pavilion of The
Summer Winds—do you know it?’
       Zadek nodded. ‘It’s a summer house in the woods on
Grendel’s estate, quite close to the castle. We’d better come
with you, Doctor.’
       The Doctor shook his head. ‘You’ve got to look after His
Majesty. Besides, they want me to go alone. They always want
you to go alone, when you’re walking into a trap. I wonder
what nasty ideas they’re cooking up for me?’
       The Doctor rose. ‘Well, I’ll be off. Come on K9. You two
take King George here, and a squad of men, and meet me at
the hunting lodge. We’ll make our next move from there.’
       Zadek and Farrah looked at each other. Not only was
the Doctor heading straight into danger—he actually seemed
to be looking forward to it!
                       8
                The Android Killer
      Romana stood in the android surgery, looking
wonderingly at a perfect replica of herself. The Count was
beside her, obviously delighted with Madame Lamia’s work.
‘You’ve excelled yourself, my dear Lamia. It’s absolutely
perfect.’ He turned to Romana, the real Romana. ‘Don’t you
agree, my dear?’
      Romana said scornfully. ‘The Doctor will spot it
immediately.’
      Count Grendel laughed. ‘In the dark, at a distance of
twenty feet? I think not, my dear.’
      Romana had a horrid feeling that Grendel was right.
‘He’ll know it’s a trap, anyway.’
      ‘Of course. That’s what gives the situation such a
delicious edge.’
      ‘Well, if he knows it’s a trap, he won’t come.’
      Grendel stroked his chin. ‘You underestimate him, my
dear. Of course he’ll come. It’s his only chance of rescuing
you. Oh, he’ll be very careful. But sooner or later, he’ll have
to find out if that figure in the darkened pavilion is you—and
when he does... Show her, Lamia, my dear.’
      Lamia went into her workshop and returned carrying a
blank faced dummy which she propped up in the corner of
the room. She pressed a button in its chest, and jumped
hastily back. To Romana’s astonishment, the Doctor’s voice
came from somewhere inside the dummy. ‘Hullo, Romana,
how are you?’
        The android Romana swung round to face the dummy.
Light flashed from the buckle in the android’s belt—and the
dummy exploded.
        Count Grendel rubbed his hands. ‘Ingenious, don’t you
think? You really are to be congratulated, Lamia, my dear.’
        ‘How did you get the voice?’ asked Romana. Madame
Lamia smiled. ‘Till, the Count’s servant was carrying a hidden
recorder, when he spoke to the Doctor.’
        ‘You’ve wasted a lot of effort,’ said Romana. ‘It won’t
work, you know. Suppose the Doctor doesn’t speak?’
        ‘The android is programmed to kill in other ways...’
        Count Grendel put his arm around the android
Romana. ‘You see before you the complete killing machine,
my dear. As beautiful as you, and as deadly as the plague
itself. If only she were real, I’d marry her!’
        ‘Why don’t you do it anyway?’ suggested Romana. ‘You
deserve each other!’
        Count Grendel gave the android a courtly bow. ‘Come,
my dear.’ Offering the android his arm, he led it from the
room.
        Madame Lamia followed them to the door. ‘Guardl’ she
shouted.
        Romana backed hastily to the work bench, slipped a
steel probe into her sleeve, and moved forward again.
        ‘Guard!’ shouted Madame Lamia again.
        There was a clatter of booted feet, and a guard came
running into the surgery.
        Madame Lamia was in a furious temper. ‘Why were you
so long?’ Before the guard could answer she snapped. ‘Help
me to take this prisoner back to the dungeons.’
        The guard marched Romana back to her cell, Lamia
following close behind.
       In the dungeon the Prince had fallen back into his
uneasy sleep. He stirred uneasily, but did not awaken. Lamia
turned to the guard. ‘Leave us. I’ll lock up the prisoner.’
       The guard left the cell, and with vicious satisfaction,
Lamia attached Romana’s chain to the ring on the cell wall,
and snapped home the lock.
       Romana looked pityingly at her. ‘You know, even if
Grendel does become King, he’ll never marry you.’
       Lamia’s voice was shaking with anger. ‘Nor you either—
I’ll see to that!’
       ‘Ah, but I don’t want to marry him—and you do! Why
don’t you just let me go? All you have to do is release me, give
me my crystal back, and I’ll find the Doctor and leave Tara
for ever. Think about it—what have you got to lose?’
       ‘Count Grendel,’ said Lamia simply.
       ‘You haven’t really got him now, have you? All he’s
doing is using you.’
       ‘I know. But its better than nothing.’ Lamia turned and
left the cell.
       When the door had closed behind her, Romana slipped
the probe from her sleeve, and began studying the lock on
her collar. Basically it was a Taran version of the padlock, and
it looked clumsy and old-fashioned. Romana slipped the
probe into the keyhole and began probing experimentally. It
was difficult—she couldn’t see what she was doing.
Unfortunately, lock-picking was one of the things they hadn’t
taught her at the Academy. ‘Now, let me see... how does the
Doctor do this?’ she muttered.

     The Pavilion of the Summer Winds looked peaceful and
innocent in the afternoon sunshine. It was a simple wooden
summerhouse with a wide verandah, a place for picnics and
lazy days in the sun. It was hard to think that it could conceal
a deadly ambush.
      The Doctor’s rendezvous was set for the evening, so he
naturally turned up several hours early. He stood at the edge
of the little clearing, while K9 scanned the building with his
sensor ray.
      ‘Anybody about, K9?’
      ‘Negative, Master.’
      ‘Good. Let’s take a look inside.’
      There was little enough to see, just one big airy room,
furnished with a scattered assortment of old chairs and tables.
The shutters were drawn and the room was dark and cool.
      The Doctor had a quick look round, while K9 scanned
the room for hidden death traps.
      ‘Find anything K9?’
      ‘Negative, Master.’
      ‘Me neither! Well, all we can do now is wait’ Choosing
the most comfortable chair, the Doctor sank into it, stretched
out his legs and appeared to fall into a doze.
      K9 glided to a position in a dark corner and de-activated
himself to conserve energy.
      They waited.

      It infuriated Romana that a graduate of the Academy of
Gallifrey should have such difficulty in picking a simple
padlock. But she worked on patiently, and at last the lock
sprang open. Romana went over to the Prince and shook him
gently awake. ‘Come on. We’re getting out of here. I can open
your collar and—’
      Feebly the Prince shook his head. ‘Save... yourself.’
      ‘I won’t leave you behind,’ whispered Romana fiercely.
‘They’ll kill you.’
      ‘Too... weak. I’d only get in the way.’
      ‘Listen, I think I heard Grendel leaving the castle, a little
while ago. It sounded as if he was taking a lot of the guards
with him. This could be our chance.’
      ‘Then take it!’ The Prince propped himself up on one
elbow. ‘Don’t waste time with me, we’d just both get
recaptured. You escape, find my Swordmaster, Zadek, tell
him where I am. He’ll know what to do.’
      Romana hated the idea of leaving the Prince, but she
knew he was right. It was the only thing to do. ‘All right. But
you can still help me.’ She explained her plan, and the Prince
listened, nodding eagerly.
      A few minutes later, Romana began shouting, ‘Guard!
Guard! Come quickly. The Prince!’
      It took a lot of yelling and screaming, but at last the cell
door was flung open and a suspicious looking guard stood
scowling in the doorway.
      ‘The Prince,’ screamed Romana. ‘Look he’s dying!’
      The Prince was writhing to and fro on his mattress,
gasping for breath.
      ‘You’d better help him,’ said Romana. ‘Count Grendel
will be furious if the Prince dies while he still needs him.’
      The guard came over to the Prince and stood looking
down at him. Swiftly Romana slipped out of the cell door
slamming it behind her.
      The guard spun round. ‘Come back!’ he yelled.
‘Somebody stop her.’
      Prince Reynart struggled painfully to his feet, gathered
a length of his neck-chain into a loop, and smashed it down
on the guard’s head. The guard slumped to the floor.
      Reynart looked at his chain with great satisfaction. At
least he had managed to strike one blow against Count
Grendel...

      As Romana had hoped, most of the guards had left with
Count Grendel, and the corridors of the castle were deserted.
      She found her way back to the arched doorway and
slipped out into the cobbled courtyard.
      She could scarcely believe her luck. The portcullis was
raised, the drawbridge down. A bored looking guard stood
outside the gatehouse, staring out over the peaceful
countryside. And best of all, a ready-saddled horse stood
tethered to a ring in the courtyard wall.
      Romana knew she had to seize the moment. If the guard
turned, if someone else came into the courtyard, the chance
would be lost.
      She edged along the wall until she reached the horse,
and unfastened its reins. Then, trying to remember the way
Count Grendel had mounted, she scrambled into the saddle.
      The horse, a stolid, well-trained battle charger endured
all this quite patiently. Romana shook the reins. ‘Come on
charger. Go!’
      Nothing happened.
      Stuck up on the great horse like a statue, Romana felt
horribly conspicuous. Someone was bound to see her in a
minute. Someone did.
      A second guard strolled out of the gatehouse and leaned
his back against the wall enjoying the shade. He glanced
casually at the horse, then looked again, as he realised with
astonishment that there was someone on it.
      ‘Hey!’ he bellowed. ‘Escaping prisoner!’
      The gate guard turned and saw Romana. Both guards
ran towards her.
      ‘Oh, go, you stupid creature, go,’ yelled Romana, and
kicked the horse in the ribs. It was a feeble enough kick but it
was the signal the horse had been waiting for. It broke into a
rapid trot.
      Romana kicked again. The trot became a gallop, The
horse thundered past the astonished guards, clattered over
the drawbridge and galloped away.
      The guards ran into the gatehouse, fetched crossbows
and fired after the rapidly disappearing figure.
      But it was too late. Soon horse and rider had vanished
into the forest.

     A short time earlier, a ring of Count Grendel’s guards
was encircling the Pavilion of the Summer Winds, not far
away. Sergeant Kurster checked their positions, and reported
back to Count Grendel. The Count was waiting with Madame
Lamia and the android Romana behind a massive tree
opposite the Pavilion entrance.
     Kurster saluted. ‘The men are in position, my lord...’
     ‘Good. Now remember, only the Doctor is to be
admitted, no one else. Tell the men to await my signals.’
     ‘Yes my lord.’ Kurster moved away and Grendel turned
to Madame Lamia. ‘You know what to do, my dear?’
     ‘Yes. When this Doctor arrives, you can leave him to
me.’
     ‘What should I do without you,’ said Grendel softly.
     Lamia’s voice was bitter. ‘Find another peasant who
understands androids, no doubt.’
      Grendel bent and kissed her. ‘True. But I should not
find one who pleased me so much!’ His voice hardened. ‘Now
go, before the Doctor arrives.’
      Madame Lamia crossed the clearing, and went into the
pavilion. She stopped in astonishment at the sight of the tall
figure in the chair.
      ‘Hullo,’ said the Doctor affably. ‘You’re early!’
      Lamia fought to overcome her shock. ‘You are the
Doctor?’
      ‘That’s right.’ The Doctor rose and bowed. ‘Madame
Lamia, I presume.’
      ‘It is not yet time for our meeting...’
      The Doctor beamed. ‘I know, but I had nothing much
else to do and it was such a lovely afternoon, I thought I’d
come early to enjoy the peace and quiet. What’s your story?’
      ‘Do I need one?’
      ‘No, but it might have been fun to hear it. Where’s
Romana?’
      The Doctor’s unexpected presence had thrown Madame
Lamia off balance. She paused, struggling to regain control.
‘You agree to my terms?’
      The Doctor produced a sheet of parchment from his
pocket. ‘A guarantee of safety for Grendel—in return for
Romana, now, the Prince and Princess later, all unharmed.’
He returned the paper to his pocket. ‘You realise the Count
will have to live in exile somewhere? But of course, there’s no
reason why you couldn’t go with him, is there?’
      Lamia was silent.
      ‘Now,’ said the Doctor gently. ‘Where’s Romana?’
      ‘Outside.’
      ‘Then bring her in.’
      Lamia turned and went to the door.
      The Doctor’s voice halted her at the threshold. ‘I don’t
know if your offer was genuine, Lamia—but my acceptance
is.’
      Lamia hesitated, turned and went outside.
      The Doctor waited, glancing briefly towards the corner
where K9 waited, hidden in the shadows.
      The door opened and Romana came in, Madame Lamia
just behind her.
      The Doctor looked at Romana, but did not speak.
      ‘Well, Doctor,’ said Lamia nervously. ‘Aren’t you going
to greet your friend?’
      There was an alarmed electronic bleep, and K9 glided
forward. ‘Danger, Master!’
      Lamia jumped back. ‘Kill the Doctor!’ she shouted. The
Doctor flung himself aside as the android Romana’s laser-ray
blasted a hole in the wall behind him.
      ‘K9!’ yelled the Doctor.
      Before the android could fire again, K9 had fired his
blaster at full strength, blowing the android apart. Outside the
Pavilion, Count Grendel heard the explosion. ‘Something’s
gone wrong. Attack the Pavilion!’ Guards appeared from
behind the trees, and began advancing towards the Pavilion,
crossbows at the ready.
      ‘Shoot him down!’ shouted Grendel furiously. ‘The
Doctor must not escape alive! ‘
                           9
                     Flag of Truce
       A cloaked figure dashed out of the Pavilion, and the
guards raised their crossbows.
       ‘My lord, my lord!’ called Madame Lamia desperately.
       ‘Hold your fire!’ screamed Grendel.
       It was too late. An electronic bolt from the crossbow of a
too-eager guard struck Lamia in the heart, and she fell dead
to the ground.
       ‘Hold your fire, you fools,’ shouted Grendel again. ‘That
was Madame Lamia!’ He looked down at the huddled form
for a moment and drew a deep breath. ‘Doctor, I know you’re
in there,’ he shouted. ‘There’s only one entrance to this
Pavilion and we have it covered. Come out and parley with
me, I promise you won’t be harmed.’
       Count Grendel lowered his voice. ‘Kurster, tell the men
to fire at will, as soon as he appears. I want this Doctor
destroyed!’

      In the Pavilion, the Doctor could hear Grendel’s voice.
‘Well, Doctor, are you coming out? We can still make a deal
for the lives of your friends. Come out and talk. I give you my
word as a Gracht, you will not be harmed.’
      The Doctor looked down. ‘Ah well, K9, I suppose I’d
better talk to him.’
      ‘Inadvisable, Master.’
      ‘What? Just you leave this to me, K9, I know exactly
what I’m doing. Even a villain like Gracht has some sense of
honour, and when he swears by his family name...’
       The Doctor flung open the Pavilion door and popped
outside. A volley of crossbow-bolts exploded all around him
and he jumped back in, slamming the door behind him. ‘I
think it’s time we were getting out of here, don’t you, K9?’
       ‘Affirmative, Master.’
       The Doctor studied the Pavilion wall. ‘Right! About
there, I think!’ He pointed.
       K9 swung round, raised his head and blasted a size-able
hole through the wall.
       ‘Good dog!’ said the Doctor and started through the
hole; K9 followed.
       Although Grendel had posted men all round the
Pavilion, most of them had converged on the front entrance,
in response to Grendel’s call to attack.
       The Doctor and K9 made their way through the hole
and headed for the shelter of the trees. At that moment, a
guard turned the corner of the Pavilion and spotted them.
       ‘This way! He’s over here!’ He raised his crossbow to
fire, and K9 promptly blasted him down.
       In the front of the Pavilion, Grendel heard the man’s
dying scream.
       ‘Round the back,’ he shouted. ‘A thousand gold pieces
to the man who shoots the Doctor!’
       As the guards ran for the back of the Pavilion there was
a thunder of hooves and an enormous charger galloped into
the clearing. Grendel looked up at the rider. ‘Hold your fire!
It’s the Princess!’ (Count Grendel had no desire for Princess
Strella to die before he married her.)
       The horsewoman galloped around to the rear of the
Pavilion. Grendel ran after him, followed by his men. To his
astonished rage he saw the Doctor swinging up into the
saddle behind the rider.
      ‘Off you go, K9!’ yelled the Doctor. ‘Everyone for
himself!’ The horse galloped away.
      ‘Fools! Dolts!’ bellowed Count Grendel. ‘That’s not the
Princess, it’s Romana. Get after them!’
      The guards began running after the fast-disappearing
horse. It was a hopeless task to begin with, and K9
discouraged them still further by shooting down several of the
leaders.
      The guards turned and fled.
      By the time Count Grendel had rallied his demoralised
forces, the Doctor, Romana and K9 were all far away.

       Zadek’s finger jabbed down at the map. ‘While Grendel
thinks we’re still in the palace, there’s a chance we can
surprise him. If we bring up our men under cover of darkness
and position them here...’
       The door to the hunting lodge burst open, and the
Doctor and Romana rushed in.
       Zadek looked at the Doctor’s companion in
astonishment. ‘Princess Strella!’
       ‘No, I’m Romana. I just look like Strella.’
       Romana was equally astonished at the sight of the figure
sitting stiffly at the head of the table. ‘Prince Reynart!’
       ‘No, that’s George,’ explained the Doctor hurriedly.
‘He’s an android.’
       ‘Incredible! And these gentlemen?’
       The Doctor grinned. ‘Oh, they’re real enough—I think!’
       Zadek bowed and clicked his heels. ‘I am Swordmaster
Zadek. This is Swordsman Farrah.’
       ‘Zadek?’ said Romana. ‘I’ve got a message for you, from
the Prince.’
       ‘You’ve seen His Majesty?’ asked Zadek eagerly.
      ‘He’s in the dungeons of Castle Gracht, and he’s badly
injured. We’ve got to rescue him.’
      Suddenly Farrah went over to the window. ‘Horsemen
approaching.’
      Zadek hurried to join him. ‘It’s Count Grendel with a
flag of truce!’
      Farrah’s hand went to his sword. ‘Shall I kill the traitor,
sir?’
      Zadek was horrified. ‘Under a flag of truce? You know
the Rules of War, Swordsman Farrah.’
      Romana looked at the Doctor. ‘I’m not sure if Count
Grendel does, though.’
      ‘You may be right. Come on.’ The Doctor took
Romana’s arm and led her fo the balcony.
      ‘What are you doing, Doctor?’
      ‘Grendel’s got no reason to love you, and if he is
planning any dirty work I don’t want you involved. You just
keep out of sight until he’s gone.’
      Ignoring Romana’s protests, the Doctor bustled her out,
and rejoined the others. ‘Right, then let’s see what Grendel
wants.’
      ‘Bring in the Count, Swordsman Farrah,’ ordered
Zadek. ‘And make sure you disarm him first!’ Farrah hurried
out. A few minutes later he returned, ushering Grendel
before him. Farrah was carrying the Count’s sword. The
Count himself was carrying the traditional white flag,
mounted on a long pole with a gilded, ornamental head.
Count Grendel bowed, and flourished his flag. ‘Good day,
gentlemen. I come under a flag of truce, and I expect to be
treated according to the usages of war.’
      ‘What do you want?’ asked Zadek bluntly.
      Grendel turned and looked at the uniformed figure at
the head of the table. ‘How are you, Your Android Majesty?’
      The figure turned its head. ‘I... am... well.’
      Grendel looked maliciously at the Doctor. ‘He doesn’t
sound it, does he? Leakage in the power-cells I expect?’
      ‘Nothing that can’t be fixed,’ said the Doctor cheerfully.
      Count Grendel laughed. ‘You know, I like you, Doctor.
I was glad when you managed to get away safely.’
      ‘So was I!’ said the Doctor frankly.
      Count Grendel glanced round the room. ‘And where is
the charming Lady Romana?’
      ‘What do you want, Grendel’ interrupted Zadek angrily.
      ‘A private word with the Doctor—according to the Rules
of War.’
      The Doctor allowed Grendel to lead him to the end of
the room. ‘Well, Count Grendel?’
      ‘Doctor,’ began Grendel, ‘You are a remarkable man.’
      ‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor modestly.
      ‘Indeed, a man after my own heart.’
      The Doctor rubbed his chin. ‘I suppose that’s meant as a
compliment. Go on.’
      ‘Here you axe, new to Tara, new to our politics, and in
no time at all, what have you become?’
      ‘You tell me.’
      ‘King-maker extraordinary,’ said Grendel expansively.
He glanced at the uniformed figure, facing them at the end of
the table. ‘Thanks to your keeping that collection of micro-
circuity going, Zadek still has his King. But what would
happen if something went seriously wrong in public, like an
overload on his circuits? Come to that what would happen to
you if Zadek managed to get the real Prince back?’
      ‘What?’
      ‘Your usefulness would cease, Doctor—and you would
know too much. You would become a dangerous
embarrassment to Zadek, and embarrassment to be got rid
of—and don’t think he wouldn’t do it!’
      The Doctor looked curiously at him. ‘Count Grendel,
exactly what are you suggesting?’
      ‘Suppose we both un-made our Kings, eh? No more
Reynart at all, alive or android.’
      ‘What would that achieve?’
      ‘A vacancy for a new King!’
      The Doctor laughed. ‘You, I suppose?’
      ‘No, no, Doctor. Unfortunately, I have enemies. There
would be opposition. Far better a stranger, someone above
our politics.’ Grendel paused. ‘I think you would make an
excellent King, Doctor—with myself as your chief adviser, of
course.’
      The Doctor gave a shout of laughter. ‘Zadek, Farrah,’ he
called. ‘Count Grendel has just offered me the crown of Tara!’
      Zadek was outraged. ‘That is treason!’
      ‘Only as long as the King is still alive!’ Suddenly Count
Grendel drew back his arm and hurled his flag-pole across the
room, like a spear. It thudded into the chest of the still figure
at the table and the android exploded in a cloud of smoke.
      ‘Seize him,’ yelled Zadek.
      The Count was already hurtling across the room. With
one flying leap, he went through the window in a shower of
glass. The Doctor ran after him, and saw Count Grendel leap
into the saddle of his waiting horse and ride furiously away.
Another horseman galloped around the side of the hunting
lodge and rode off after Grendel.
      It was Kurster, the Count’s giant henchman.
     Across his saddle-bow lay the furiously struggling figure
of Romana.
                   10
      Count Grendel Plans a Wedding
       Zadek ran to the door. ‘Get the men mounted, Farrah.
After them!’
       The Doctor held them back. ‘You’ll never catch him
now. He’ll be well on the way to Castle Gracht’ The Doctor
shook his head ruefully. ‘You know, one almost has to admire
the man.’
       ‘Admire him!’ spluttered Zadek. ‘We should have killed
him the minute he walked in here, flag of truce or no flag of
truce.’
       ‘He’s certainly not short of courage, sir,’ said Farrah. ‘I
mean, riding up like that, distracting us while his man breaks
in and kidnaps Lady Romana. It took nerve.’
       ‘Nerve is something Count Grendel has never been
short of,’ said Zadek grimly.
       The Doctor was examining the remains of the shattered
android. ‘Blown to bits, I’m afraid. Must have been an
explosive charge in that spear-head. Trust Grendel to convert
a flag of truce into a weapon of war!’
       Farrah sighed despondently. ‘I can see why he wanted
to destroy the android. But why kidnap Lady Romana?’
       The Doctor sighed. ‘I imagine he’s thought up yet
another scheme to gain the throne. You’ve got to admit he’s a
trier!’

     Count Grendel flung open the dungeon door, and
thrust Romana inside. ‘Romana!’ Prince Reynart stirred, and
opened his eyes. ‘Romana! I thought you’d escaped...’
       ‘She did,’ snapped Count Grendel viciously. ‘But I knew
you couldn’t live without her, Your Majesty, so I brought her
back to you.’
       Romana glared angrily at him. ‘Do you have to torment
him?’
       Count Grendel was hurt. ‘Now that really is most unfair,
my dear. Especially when I’ve gone to so much trouble to
reunite His Majesty with his bride-to-be!’
       ‘His what? What are you up to now?’
       Count Grendel gave her one of his peculiarly sinister
smiles. ‘Congratulations! You’ll make a lovely couple.’
       He went out, slamming the door behind him. Romana
looked down at the Prince. ‘What was all that about? What’s
his idea now?’
       ‘Count Grendel has always had only one idea,’ said
Reynart feebly. ‘He wants to become the rightful, legal, King
of Tara. If you pose as Princess Strella and marry me, you will
automatically become Queen. Five minutes after the wedding,
you’ll almost certainly become a widow. Whereupon Count
Grendel, that well-known protector of widows and orphans
will step in and marry you.’
       Romana was beginning to understand the plan. ‘Thus
becoming the Consort of the rightful Queen of Tara. Then I
suppose it will be my turn to have an unfortunate accident?’
       ‘Precisely. According to the Laws of Tara, the crown will
pass to Grendel. Count Grendel is a great stickler for
legality—when it suits him.’
       Roman added, ‘But Grendel’s got the real Princess
Strella. Why doesn’t he force her to marry him?’
       Prince Reynart lay back, exhausted. ‘I imagine he’s
tried, and it didn’t work. Princess Strella is a very strong-
minded girl.’
       Count Grendel sat on a throne in the great hall of Castle
Gracht. He had ordered the throne to be made some time
ago; it would come in handy when Castle Gracht was a Royal
Residence. Till poured wine. The Count drank, spat it out,
and hurled the silver goblet at Till’s head. ‘You call this wine?
It’s vinegar!’
       It was at this rather unfortunate moment that the
Archimandrite was brought in by two of Count Grendel’s
guards. The old man looked up at Grendel and said
peevishly, ‘What is so urgent that I must be dragged from my
duties like this? Your men were most insistent.’
       Count Grendel rose, and delivered a swift kick to the
departing Till. ‘Fetch good wine, dog!’ He turned to the
Archimandrite and said urbanely. ‘Forgive me, Your
Eminence. but there is a ceremony you must perform.’
       ‘Here? What ceremony.’
       ‘A marriage.’
       The Archimandrite shook his head disapprovingly.
‘Your own chaplain could have done that for you.’
       ‘Not this marriage.’
       ‘Why? Who is to be married, and to whom?’
       ‘The King of Tara,’. said Count Grendel impressively.
‘To the Princess Stella.’
       ‘The King is here?’
       Count Grendel’s voice was grave. ‘He has placed himself
under my protection, Your Eminence. Sadly, I have to tell
you that he is seriously ill—in fact, he is very near to death.’
       The old man was shocked. ‘I noticed he looked unwell
at the Coronation. Not himself at all.’
       ‘Exactly what I thought myself, Archimandrite.’
       ‘But near to death, you say?’
       ‘Indeed he is,’ said Count Grendel sadly. ‘In fact, it
would be as well if you stayed on at Castle Gracht for a while
after the ceremony. I fear we shall need you for the funeral
rites, soon after the wedding.’ Count Grendel brightened.
‘Now that I come to think of it, you might as well perform the
second wedding straight after the funeral.’
       By now the Archimandrite was totally baffled. ‘A second
wedding? And whose, may I ask, will that be?’
       ‘Mine,’ said Count Grendel happily. ‘I shall be marrying
the poor King’s widow.’

      The Doctor sat brooding in the hunting lodge. With him
was K9, who had been forced to make a wide de-tour to avoid
a patrol of Count Grendel’s guards. Now K9 had finally
arrived, belated but unharmed. At the table, Zadek and
Farrah were studying a map of Castle Gracht and its
surroundings. ‘We can post the men here, sir,’ Farrah was
saying.
      Zadek frowned. ‘And leave our left flank open to attack?
No, here, surely.’ They seemed to be enjoying themselves so
much that the Doctor felt it was a shame to interrupt them.
‘How long do you two think it will take to capture the castle,
then?’
      ‘Hard to say,’ said Zadek gloomily. ‘The last siege of
Castle Gracht went on for over two years.’
      ‘Well, I haven’t got two years to spare,’ said the Doctor
firmly. ‘Besides, Grendel will kill Romana and the Prince long
before then.’ He leaned over the map. ‘I can tell you now,
there’s only one way to get into that castle quickly.’
      ‘What’s that?’ demanded Zadek.
      ‘Someone will have to get in and open the gates from
the inside. Then your men can charge straight in, take the
guard by surprise, and rescue the prisoners before Count
Grendel’s got time to kill them.’
     ‘That’s hardly according to the Rules of War,’ objected
Farrah.
     Zadek snorted. ‘Have you ever known Grendel to abide
by the Rules of War? It’s a good plan, Doctor, but who is
going to open the gates?’
     ‘I am.’
     ‘Just you? One man alone?’
     The Doctor smiled. ‘Well, one man and his dog, anyway.
Come on K9!’

      Count Grendel strode along the dank stone corridors of
his castle, a guard at his heels. He paused outside the door to
the first cell. The Prince was sleeping, uneasily. Romana sat
beside him, mopping his forehead. ‘Very touching,’ muttered
Grendel. He moved on to the second cell. ‘Open!’ The guard
opened the door and Count Grendel went inside.
      Princess Strella was still busy at her endless tapestry.
Count Grendel bowed. ‘Your Highness.’
      Princess Strella ignored him.
      Grendel’s face darkened, but he managed to keep his
voice civil. ‘I have come to offer you one last chance to change
your mind, Your Highness.’
      Princess Strella looked up. ‘Never!’ She returned to her
tapestry.
      Count Grendel said persuasively, ‘The Archimandrite is
here. The King is here. It will all be quite simple.’
      Princess Strella was a placid, rather dull girl, but she had
generations of Royal training behind her, and an immovable
sense of duty. ‘I have already told you, Grendel,’ she said
precisely. ‘I will not marry the King under these
circumstances—and I will not many you under any
circumstances.’
      Count Grendel tried to be jovial. ‘Come, come, my dear,
surely you want to be Queen?’
      The Princess laid down her embroidery. ‘As long as I
can frustrate your evil schemes by refusing to marry the King,
then his life is safe.’
      ‘His life matters so much to you?’
      ‘More than my own,’ said the Princess matter-of-factly.
‘That is why I will not go through with any marriage under
your roof. You may kill me if you wish.’
      ‘I may well do that,’ roared Grendel, his mask of
urbanity slipping at last. ‘I have a substitute, Princess Strella.
You have become dispensable!’
      He stormed out, and the guard locked the cell.
      Princess Strella sighed, and picked up her embroidery.
Count Grendel hammered his fist on the door of the
neighbouring cell. ‘Open it, you fool,’ he bellowed. The
horrified guard hurried to obey.
      Romana looked up from the unconscious Prince.
‘You’ve got to give him proper quarters, Count Grendel. He’s
getting weaker all the time.’
      Grendel nodded sadly. ‘Such a pity. I fear he is not long
for this world.’
      ‘Nonsense. All he needs is proper quarters, proper
treatment—’
      ‘I know exactly what he needs, my dear.’ Grendel
prodded the Prince in the ribs with the toe of his boot. ‘As
long as he has enough energy left for the marriage ceremony.’
      Prince Reynart opened his eyes. ‘Never, you hear me.
Grendel? Never!’
      Count Grendel sighed. ‘Come now, Your Majesty, I’m
sure you wouldn’t wish to be the cause of Princess Strella’s
death? And no more would you, my dear Romana.’
      Romana looked steadily at him. ‘All right, Count
Grendel. Exactly what do you mean?’
      ‘Princess Strella is in the dungeon next to this one. She
is quite well, and quite safe—for the moment.’
      ‘If you harm her, Grendel,’ cried the Prince feverishly.
      ’What? What can you do?’ sneered Grendel. His voice
hardened. ‘Now be quiet, both of you, and listen to me. I had
everything arranged, before Romana and her friend the
Doctor interfered. Madame Lamia was preparing another
android, a perfect copy of the Princess for you to marry.’
Count Grendel sighed. ‘It would all have been so delightfully
simple. You would have married the android with full public
ceremony—and she would have killed you on your wedding
night. After your unfortunate death, she would have married
me.’
      Romana was tired of Grendel and his elaborate schemes.
‘Well, if you think I’m going to help you by marrying the
Prince, you can think again.’
      ’Oh, but you will,’ whispered Grendel, ‘I know you will.
You will both do exactly as I say—because if you refuse, the
real Princess will die!’ He paused, savouring their distress,
then purred, ‘Now what have you to say to that?’
      Appalled at the extent of Count Grendel’s ruthless ness,
Romana and the Prince were too shocked to speak.
      Count Grendel resumed his usual polished manner.
‘Good, I was sure you’d see reason. I shall send servants to
prepare you for the ceremony. Be ready.’
      He turned and left the cell.
      Prince Reynart slumped back in despair. ‘What now,
Romana? It doesn’t make any difference whether we do what
he wants or not—he’s going to kill us eventually anyway.’
      Romana glanced up at the high barred window. ‘Don’t
give up,’ she whispered. ‘It’s getting dark, and we’ve still got
friends outside. All we can do now is play for time.’
                          11
                   Attack by Night
      The night was dark and moonless and the massive bulk
of Castle Gracht loomed dimly against scudding storm-clouds.
      Zadek and Farrah lowered the flat-bottomed punt into
the moat of Castle Gracht. It had been brought from the
nearby river, at the Doctor’s suggestion, carried overland by
Zadek’s men.
      ‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘In you go, K9l’
      Zadek held the boat close to the side of the bank, while
Farrah helped the Doctor to lower K9 into it. Once K9 teas
safely installed in the bottom of the boat, the Doctor jumped
in after him, and picked up the paddle from the floorboards.
      ‘The old water-gate is right under the wall opposite,’
whispered Zadek. ‘Those door timbers are at least a foot thick
I’m afraid. They were made to stand up to a battering ram.’
      ‘They won’t stand up to K9 though,’ said the Doctor
confidently. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll manage. You just make sure
your chaps are ready to charge, the moment that drawbridge
comes down.’
      Farrah produced a sword and handed it to the Doctor.
‘Here, take this. You may need it!’
      ‘I hope not,’ said the Doctor, but he took the sword, tied
a knot in his coat-belt, and thrust the sword through it. ‘Here
we go then.’
      Zadek pushed the boat off from the shore. ‘We’ll be
waiting, Doctor. Good luck!’
      The Doctor paddled away.
      Swiftly and silently, he drove the boat across the smooth,
black surface of the moat, taking care to dip the paddle blade
in the water without splashing.
      There was a nasty moment when a patrolling sentry
gazed down at the moat from the battlement, but the boat
glided beneath him silent and unseen.
      A few minutes later the prow of the punt bumped gently
against a heavy arched door, set into the castle wall just above
the waterline.
      ‘This most be it, K9,’ whispered the Doctor. He grabbed
an iron ring set into the massive timbers and steadied the
boat.
      ‘Affirmative, Master,’ K9’s electronic voice was
shockingly loud in the night silence.
      ‘Sssh they’ll hear us. All right, K9—start cutting!’ K9
moved to the front of the boat, and focused his laser beam on
the door.
      The massive wooden timbers began to smoke.

      In the Great Hall of Gracht, Till and Kurster were
making the preparations for the wedding. They were simple
enough, a carved wooden table to serve as the
Archimandrite’s altar, a few chairs for those of Count
Grendel’s guards who would act as witnesses. It would be a
simple ceremony.
      Count Grendel strode into the hall and looked around.
‘Is everything ready?’
      Till ducked his head. ‘Almost my lord.’
      ‘There must be no hitches in the ceremony—in either of
the ceremonies!’
      Prince Reynart’s funeral service was due to follow
shortly after his wedding.
      ‘Kurster!’ roared Count Grendel.
      ‘Yes, my lord?’
      ‘Make sure the guards are alert. If the Doctor and his
friends attack, it may well be tonight. At the first sign of
trouble, get down to the dungeons and deal with Princess
Strella. You understand me?’
      ‘I do, my lord.’ It wouldn’t be the first murder Kurster
had carried out at Grendel’s orders.
      ‘Good. I shall deal with the King and his interfering
friend myself.’
      Count Grendel looked up as the Archimandrite tottered
into the hall. ‘Ah, there you are, Your Eminence. Are you
ready?’
      ‘I am.’ The old man looked round in puzzlement. ‘But
where are the happy couple?’
      ‘They are in their quarters,’ said Count Grendel
smoothly. ‘I will inform them that you are ready. I shall
conduct them here myself.’
      Summoning two guards, Count Grendel made his way
down to the dungeons, where he found Romana and Prince
Reynart submitting unwillingly to the ministrations of his
servants. The Prince’s wound had been redressed, and he had
been given a fresh uniform to wear. Romana was wearing one
of Princess Strella’s gowns, taken from the baggage captured
with the Princess.
      Count Grendel surveyed them approvingly. ‘Splendid,
splendid! But why spoil the effect by looking so miserable,
Your Highness? This should be the happiest day of your life.
It will probably be the last day too, you might just as well
enjoy it!’
      He led them into the corridor and paused by the door
to the adjoining cell. ‘Remember now—no trouble or Strella
dies. That I promise. Now, cheer up, it will soon be over.’ He
took Romana’s arm. ‘I’m sorry there’s no bridal march, my
dear, but we’re ringing the castle bell.’
      The strange wedding party moved away.

       The sonorous pealing of a bell came rolling out from the
castle tower. ‘Hear that, K9?’ whispered the Doctor. ‘It means
either a wedding or a funeral.’ He looked at the heavy gate,
which was charred and blackened but by no means destroyed.
‘Hurry up, can’t you? A hamster with a blunt penknife could
do it quicker.’
       K9 was hurt. ‘You ordered no noise, Master.’
       ‘Get on with it K9!’
       K9 increased the intensity of his laser beam. The gate-
timbers began to crackle, and some of them burst into flame.
       Balancing precariously in the boat, the Doctor kicked at
the door. Most of the timbers fell away in blazing sparks.
‘About time ! Now listen, K9, there’s bound to be a lot of
stairs, and I’ve no time to carry you. You’d better stay here, I
may need to bring the prisoners out this way if anything goes
wrong.’
       ‘Affirmative, Master.’
       ‘And don’t fall in the water.’
       ‘I am familiar with boats. Master; said K9 huffily.
       The Doctor patted him on the head. ‘You old sea dog,
you!’ He crawled carefully through the smouldering gap, and
looked back at K9. ‘Now, don’t forget, stay on guard here—
and be careful I’
       The Doctor disappeared.
       ‘Master?’ called K9.
      There was a crash from somewhere inside the hole, an
indignant cry of ‘Sssh, K9,’ and then silence. ‘Master?’ called
K9. ‘You have forgotten to secure the boat!’
      But the Doctor was gone.

      Flanked by sword-bearing guards, Romana and Prince
Reynart followed Count Grendel into the hall. He led them
up the improvised aisle to the table, behind which stood the
Archimandrite. In a quavery voice the old man said, ‘You will
both kneel!’
      Romana and Prince Reynart did not move.
      Count Grendel glared. ‘Remember the Princess,’ he
hissed. ‘Now, kneel!’
      They knelt.
      The Archimandrite began the ceremony.

      The Doctor hurried through the lower corridors of the
castle, looking for the dungeon where Romana was confined.
He found it at last, but it was empty, the door standing open.
He glanced in the next cell, where Princess Strella was still
placidly embroidering, and decided to rescue her later. He
hurried up the stairs that led to the great hall.
      After a good deal of preliminary mumbling from the
Archimandrite, the marriage ceremony had now reached the
most vital part. ‘Do you, Reynart, King of Tara, take this
woman, the Princess Strella to be your lawful wedded wife?’
      There was a long pause. Reynart caught Count
Grendel’s menacing look and said weakly, ‘I do.’ Romana was
wondering desperately what to do for the best. If she went
through with the ceremony, then Count Grendel would be
able to go on with his evil plans. If she refused, and
denounced him, then he would kill them both and probably
Strella and the Archimandrite too.
       The Archimandrite turned towards her. ‘And do you,
Strella, Princess of the Royal House of Tara, take this man,
Reynart, King of Tara, to be your lawful wedded husband?’
       A voice from the back of the hall shouted, ‘No, she
doesn’t!’
       Joyfully Romana turned. ‘Doctor!’
       The Doctor was standing in the doorway smiling at her.
‘Hullo, everybody, sorry I’m late. If there’s one thing I always
enjoy, it’s a good wedding, isn’t that right, Romana?’
       The Archimandrite stared at the kneeling girl be-fore
him. ‘Romana? What do you mean, Romana? This is the
Princess Strella.’
       ‘Oh no, it isn’t,’ said the Doctor cheerfully. ‘Have you
got to that bit where you ask if anyone knows any just cause or
impediment yet? When you do, I’ve got news for you!’
       Count Grendel strode towards the Doctor, his voice
shaking with anger. ‘You seem to make a habit of interfering
in my affairs, Doctor.’
       The Doctor was quite unabashed. ‘Yes, I do rather,
don’t I?’
       Suddenly there was a sword in Count Grendel’s hand.
‘However, this will be the last time!’
       ‘Stop,’ shouted the horrified Archimandrite. ‘Let there
be no brawling. This is a solemn ceremony of marriage...’
       ‘Not any more it isn’t,’ said Romana. She jumped to her
feet, and helped Prince Reynart to stand up.
       Guards were converging on the Doctor from all over the
great hall, and soon he was ringed by Count Grendel’s men.
One of them raised a crossbow.
       ‘Doctor, look out!’ yelled Romana.
      The Doctor prepared to duck, but it was Count Grendel
himself who struck the guard’s crossbow aside. ‘Leave him.
He’s mine.’
      Count Grendel’s sword made patterns of light around
the Doctor’s body. ‘Defend yourself, sir!’
      ‘It would be easier if I had a sword,’ said the Doctor
mildly.
      Grendel reached forward and snatched the sword from
the Doctor’s belt. ‘I have no wish to kill a man without a
weapon in his hand. I shall give you just one fencing lesson
before you die.’
      Sword in hand, Count Grendel advanced upon the
Doctor.
      Prince Reynart gripped Romana’s arm. ‘Don’t look, my
dear. Grendel is the finest swordsman on Tara, a
Swordmaster of the Ninth Degree. I’m afraid your friend
doesn’t stand a chance.’
      Count Grendel took up the classic fencing stance, left
hand on his hip for balance, right hand and right foot
extended.
      The Doctor stood looking down at the sword in his own
hand as if he was wondering how it had got there, and what it
was for...
      Grendel’s sword flashed forward in a classic lunge—and
the Doctor’s blade came up and parried it, almost negligently.
There was a crackle of energy as the electro-swords clashed
together and then sprang apart.
      Grendel lunged again. Again the Doctor parried with
careless ease.
      ‘He can do it!’ gasped Romana. ‘He can actually do it.’
      Grendel stepped back, angry and baffled. ‘My
congratulations, Doctor. Already you improve.’
      He sprang forward to the attack.
      By now Count Grendel was over the shock of surprise
and was fighting seriously, with all the formidable skill at his
command. The Doctor was now hard put to defend himself.
      Count Grendel attacked like a whirlwind, thrusting,
slashing, lunging, and the Doctor was driven steadily back.
      Romana stood biting her lip, wondering if for once the
Doctor had over-reached himself.
      But the fury of Count Grendel’s assault could not last
and he began to tire.
      Abruptly, the Doctor started to counter-attack, driving
Count Grendel back and back with a series of brilliant lunges
and ripostes. The Doctor’s sword flicked forward and scored a
hit on the Count’s chest.
      Grendel looked down in astonishment, wondering why
he wasn’t dead. He realised that the Doctor hadn’t even
bothered to switch his electro-sword to killing-strength. He
was using the lowest setting, the one used for fencing lessons,
so that each touch produced no more than a slight tingle.
      Enraged by this sign of contempt, Grendel sprang
forward with renewed fury. The Doctor’s blade slid forward,
somehow wrapped itself around the other and suddenly the
sword was twitched from Count Grendel’s hand. It fell
clattering to the stone-flagged floor.
      Count Grendel drew himself upright, gasping, waiting
for the killing thrust.
      The Doctor stepped back, and bowed mockingly. Count
Grendel gave him an unbelieving look, then snatched up the
sword and returned to the attack.
      He fought on doggedly, but now he was fighting in
retreat, waiting for the moment to spring aside, and have the
Doctor shot down.
     From the back of the hall Kurster saw only that the fight
was going badly for his master.
     He remembered the Count Grendel’s instructions—if
anything went wrong, Princess Strella was to be killed.
     Moving silently for a man of his site, Kurster slipped
from the hall on his murderous errand.
                           12
                         Victory
      Everyone in the great hall was watching the flashing
sword-blades as if hypnotised.
      Romana knew that the danger wasn’t over. If Count
Grendel couldn’t win by fair means he would certainly try
foul—if he could separate himself from the Doctor long
enough to shout an order, a dozen cross-bolts would blow the
Doctor to pieces.
      For the moment, it was only the Doctor’s flickering,
deadly sword-blade that was keeping Grendel too busy to
carry out his treachery. But the moment was bound to come...
Anyone who would threaten to murder an innocent hostage
like Princess Strella.
      Romans looked round the hall—and saw Kurster
slipping away.
      She gave an agonised look at the Doctor, then turned
and ran out of the hall.
      The fight raged on.
      Suddenly, the Doctor sprang, jamming his sword hilt
against the Count’s, pinning him against the wall. ‘Where’s
the gate control?’
      Count Grendel glared defiantly at him, and said
nothing.
      Prince Reynart gathered his strength for one last effort.
Grabbing the watching Till by the throat, he shook him
vigorously. ‘The gate control—where is it?’ Terrified, Till
nodded towards a switch set high in a pillar.
       ‘Over there, Doctor,’ shouted the Prince. ‘On the pillar,
just to your right.’
       The Doctor thrust Count Grendel away, and sprang for
the pillar. Count Grendel sprang after him like a tiger, but he
was too late. The Doctor flicked up the row of switches with
his left hand—and turned to deflect Grendel’s savage lunge
with an elegant parry.
       Anger gave Count Grendel new strength and he
attacked again.
       The fight raged on.

      Waiting at the head of their troops, Zadek and Farrah
saw the drawbridge come smoothly down, the portcullis gate
slide up.
      ‘He’s done it, sir,’ said Farrah exultantly.
      Zadek rose to his feet. ‘Forward!’ he shouted. ‘Charge!’
Sword in hand he led his men across the bridge.

     Princess Strella had put aside her big tapestry frame.
There seemed little point in a task she probably wouldn’t live
to finish. She was embroidering a very small lace
handkerchief.
     She wasn’t particularly surprised when her cell door was
flung open, and Kurster appeared, sword in hand. She waited
calmly, as he raised his sword and moved towards her.
Something about her calmness unnerved Kurster—and for a
second he hesitated.
     In that second, Romana appeared in the doorway
behind him. She looked round for a weapon, saw the heavy
wooden tapestry frame leaning against a bench by the wall,
snatched it up and smashed it down hard.
     Kurster staggered, and stood swaying...
      Instantly, the Princess seized the water jug from her
table and brought it down on Kurster’s head with all her
strength.
      Kurster slid slowly down the wall and on to the bench,
upright, but completely unconscious.
      Princess Strella looked up, saw Romana’s face, and
showed real astonishment for the first time in her captivity.
‘Who are you?’
      Romans smiled. ‘I’m afraid that’s a very long story.’

      When he heard the shouts of Zadek’s men in the
courtyard, Count Grendel knew everything was over.
Deliberately, he began retreating before the Doctor’s attack,
up the stone staircase, through the narrow door at the top,
and out on to the path that ran along the edge of the
battlements.
      The sound of fighting drifted up from below them. The
Doctor stepped back—though he kept his guard well up, just
in case. ‘Listen to that Grendel. It’s all over. That’s Zadek and
his men. You might just as well surrender.’
      ‘Surrender to that blockhead?’ said Grendel scornfully.
‘I’m a Gracht, Doctor. We never surrender. We prefer to live
to fight another day.’
      Count Grendel sprang lightly up on to the battlements,
and gazed at the still waters far below. ‘Nothing like a
midnight swim. I’ll finish giving you that fencing lesson,
Doctor—one day.’
      Hurling his sword at the Doctor’s head, Count Grendel
dived from the battlements.
      Sweeping the flying blade aside with his own, the Doctor
went to the edge of the battlements. He was just in time to see
Grendel slide smoothly into the water and start swimming
towards the woods that bordered the moat.
       Possibly some of Zadek’s men would capture him—but
somehow the Doctor doubted it. He raised his blade in a
swordsman’s salute, with a kind of reluctant admiration for
Count Grendel’s consistency. All in all, he’d seldom met a
more thoroughgoing villain in all his lives.
       Things were very much under control by the time the
Doctor got back into the great hall. Count Grendel’s men had
been disarmed and made prisoner, and Zadek and Farrah
were hovering anxiously around the Prince Reynart—King
Reynart, he was now, thought the Doctor. Reynart seemed to
be recovering strength rapidly now that he was free again.
       The Doctor raised his sword in greeting. ‘Ah, there you
all are! Everyone all right?’
       There was a bubble of greetings and congratulations.
       ‘I owe you my life, Doctor,’ said the King. ‘How can I
ever repay you?’
       ‘Oh it was nothing, really. Glad to have been of service.’
       Zadek seized the Doctor by the hand. ‘Such
swordsmanship! His Majesty has told me how valiantly you
fought. I never thought I’d live to see anyone beat Grendel of
Gracht.’
       The Doctor looked surprised. ‘Oh really? Was he
supposed to be good at it?’
       ‘Doctor, stay here,’ said the Prince emotionally. ‘This
castle and all its lands shall be yours... Any position in my
realm you care to ask for.’
       ‘Well, that’s very nice of you, Your Majesty, but I do
have a rather pressing appointment on the other side of the
galaxy.’ He looked round. ‘Has anyone seen Romana?’
     ‘She followed Kurster out,’ said the King slowly. He
leaped to his feet. ‘Princess Strella! He went to kill Strella!‘
     ‘Where?’ asked the Doctor swiftly.
     ‘In the dungeons. Wait for us, Doctor!’
     The Doctor was already on his way.

       Romana and the Princess were sitting side by side, heads
bent over the Princess’s embroidery. ‘So many different types
of stitch,’ Romana was saying. ‘It must take years to learn.’
       ‘Nonsense, my dear,’ said Princess Strella placidly. ‘All it
takes is patience, and a certain delicacy of touch. I’m sure you
could pick it up in no time. Go on, that’s right...’
       Romans completed a stitch, and the Princess nodded.
‘Very good!’
       The Doctor burst into the dungeon sword in hand and
saw Kurster slumped on the bench. He whipped up his
sword. ‘Don’t move!’
       Kurster didn’t.
       The Doctor prodded him in the chest with the tip of the
blade. Kurster toppled over sideways and slumped to the
ground.
       The Doctor threw his sword aside with a sigh of relief.
He looked at the girl doing the embroidery. ‘You must be
Princess Strella.’
       The other woman said, ‘No, I’m Princess Strella.’
       ‘How do you do?’ said the Doctor politely. ‘Well, if
you’re Princess Strella, this must be Romana. Sorry to drag
you away, Romana, but we’ve got some rather important
business. I suggest you get back into your own clothes and
come and help me.’
       ‘The segment,’ gasped Romana. She hurried into the
next cell, and began changing.
       As the Doctor waited in the corridor, the King came
hurrying towards the cell, Zadek and Farrah close behind
him.
       The Doctor moved aside, and the King stepped into the
cell, and took the Princess in his arms. ‘Strella, you’re safe...
and you’re real.’
       Zadek and Farrah looked discreetly away as the Royal
couple kissed.
       The Doctor smiled. All in all, he thought, it made a
pleasingly romantic conclusion to the entire adventure.
       Romana came out of the other cell, now back in the
costume in which she’d arrived. ‘Come on, Doctor. Let’s find
that crystal again, and slip away before they make you a Duke
or something. Last time I saw it was in that android surgery
place.’
       A short time later, Romana stood staring around the
android surgery in despair. ‘It’s gone, Doctor. The segment is
gone. Grendel must have taken it.’
       ‘Try the Tracer,’ suggested the Doctor blandly.
       ‘Of course!’ Romana snatched out the Tracer, and
waved it around the room. The electronic bleep rose to
maximum—and the Tracer was pointing straight at the
Doctor.
       He grinned and took the crystal from his pocket. ‘Oh,
very funny, Doctor!’
       ‘And very careless of you. I picked it up on my way in
here!’
       The Doctor put the crystal back in his pocket, ‘Shall we
go?’
       Romana said, ‘It’s funny you know, Doctor, but in spite
of everything, I’ll be sorry to leave Tara.’
      ‘Sorry to lease Tara?’ The Doctor was indignant. ‘I
didn’t even catch a fish. Come on!’
      As they walked towards the drawbridge, Romana asked,
‘Talking of forgetting things, Doctor—what have you done
with K9?’
      The Doctor gave a gasp of horror. ‘K9!’ He ran for the
drawbridge and begun running along the path that fringed
the side of the castle moat, heading for the rear of the castle.
Romana followed him.
      As they ran around to the back of the castle they heard a
pathetic electronic voice. ‘Master! Master! Master!’
      K9 was standing in the boat which had drifted right into
the centre of the moat. He was marooned, and helpless.
      The Doctor found a rope and grappling hook in the
castle gatehouse. After several unsuccessful attempts, he
managed to hook the edge of the boat and pull K9 to shore.
      Watching him, Romana suddenly burst out laughing.
‘There you are, Doctor. You managed to catch a fish on Tara
after all!’
      They drew K9 in, soothed his ruffled feelings, and
headed for the TARDIS.
      Another part of their dangerous quest was over—but
there were still two more segments to be found.
      As the Doctor opened the TARDIS door, Romana
wondered where the next adventure would lead them.
      The Doctor ushered Romana and K9 into the TARDIS,
and followed them inside.
      With a wheezing groaning sound, the TARDIS
dematerialised.
      The Doctor and his friends were on their way.