Doctor Who and the Crusaders by David Whitaker Page A

considerable personality, the Chamberlain persuaded Ben Daheer to accompany him, pretending that he could arrange for the shopkeeper’s talent for making clothes to be brought to the King’s attention. It took no urging for Ben Daheer to order his eldest son to watch his establishment while he clutched some samples of cloth under his arm and hurried to keep up with his new benefactor. The Chamberlain led him into the palace, through several corridors, finally stopping in front of a heavy door. He knocked upon it, while the man beside him straightened his clothes and wiped the perspiration from his face, thinking he was being taken directly to the King. He was nervous and glad of the Chamberlain’s hand on his arm. A servant opened the door.
    The Doctor, who was enjoying a meal with Vicki, looked up with a faint air of annoyance at being disturbed. He heard the Chamberlain order the servant from the room, watched him close the door himself and lean against it. Ben Daheer bowed nervously, realizing he wasn’t in the presence of Royalty and wondering where he had met the white-haired man before.
    ‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’ asked the Doctor. The Chamberlain advanced into the room, bringing Ben Daheer with him.
    ‘Have you ever seen this man before?’
    ‘Yes, I was trying to remember when,’ replied the shopkeeper.
    ‘He came to your shop?’

    ‘Yes. Ah, yes, now I remember. He searched among my cloth but found nothing that suited him.’
    The Doctor’s eyes narrowed and he regarded the Chamberlain carefully. It was quite clear where the man was aiming, but the Doctor kept his peace for the moment and signalled to Vicki to keep well in the background, although he could see she was bursting with questions.
    ‘Did you miss any of your possessions after this man had visited you?’
    ‘Why, yes. Some clothes had gone.’ Ben Daheer glanced about him nervously, remembering that the things he had missed had been stolen clothes he had acquired from Thatcher, the palace servant. ‘Just a few miserable garments, Your Eminence,’ he said indifferently. The Chamberlain walked across to the Doctor, plucked at the sleeve nearest to him and held it out.
    ‘Clothes like this?’
    The Doctor pulled his arm away sharply and stood up so rapidly that his chair crashed backwards to the floor.
    ‘This is quite insufferable!’ he raged. ‘How dare you burst in here with these insulting accusations.’
    ‘Clothes like these were stolen from the palace…’
    ‘But how,’ interrupted the Doctor, ‘do you know these are the same? I mean exactly. They may
resemble
yours.’
    ‘I am quite certain the clothes you are wearing belong to the palace wardrobe. We keep a large supply here, for travellers may not be able to transport wearing apparel. It is my duty to see those who have audience with the King are properly attired.’
    ‘So you carry a large stock of clothes, do you? How large? How many items?’
    ‘That is beside the point,’ replied the Chamberlain angrily. The Doctor darted out a finger, pointing it straight into the Chamberlain’s face.
    ‘It is
just
the point, my friend. You have in your palace wardrobe shoes, buckles, stockings, cloaks, belts, hats, caps, coats, tunics, leggings, vestments, capes – all in different colours, sizes and designs. You dare to stand here and tell me you’re
certain
these garments belong to you!’
    The Chamberlain nodded but the Doctor had seen the momentary indecision on his face and followed up his advantage.
    ‘Where is the mark on these clothes proving they are yours?’ he said sharply. ‘Where is your bill of sale?’
    The Chamberlain opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, realizing he was on unsure ground. The Doctor’s manner softened suddenly. He was an eminently fair man and knew perfectly well he was in the wrong, even if the present difficulties had been brought about by Barbara’s abduction.
    ‘I will tell you what happened,’ murmured the