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locker_monsterTitle: The Boy Who Waited (20/49)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
Tenduc, 1275 A.D.
The bird circled overhead, likely targeting a meal on the ground. It was a bird of prey of some sort, but Rory couldn’t tell if it was a falcon or a hawk. Marco watched it intently, only looking away to jot down something in his notes. The leather bound book had seen better days, the spine was cracked and some of the pages were falling out, but it was stuffed full of Marco’s observations since they left Acre. Rory left the young man to his writing. They still needed to pack up camp, but he didn’t see the need to interrupt.
The city of Tenduc lay behind them, but they had chosen not to find lodgings within the city limits. They had all agreed to keep a low profile for the rest of their journey and flashing around the Khan’s golden emblem would definitely get them noticed. To be on the safe side, Rory had avoided the cities altogether and went around them with the Pandorica while the Polos re-supplied. They were getting close to the borders of ancient China and a mishap now, so close to their goal, was not something they wanted.
Niccolò and Maffeo were loading up the wagon, chatting about their previous trip to China. During their first journey they had joined an envoy that was on its way to the Khan’s palace and the route there had been different, not to mention much less uneventful.
“Your son should be a writer,” said Rory, glancing back at Marco.
Niccolò smiled upon seeing Marco so engrossed with his notes. If only he could tell Niccolò that his son would be famous, that there would be Marco Polo sheep and a children’s game bearing his name.
One of their horses looked up from feeding on a patch of grass and turned its head in the direction of the road. The other two horses followed suit, and three pairs of pointed ears twitched nervously. Rory paused and listened, too, and he heard it. The pounding of hooves. A large party was headed towards them.
“Company.” He drew out his sword and his dagger, the twin blades ringing. The Polo brothers exchanged a look and they started packing their gear with greater haste.
“Marco.” Niccolò called to his son, his tone urgent but calm. The young man looked up from his notes and he immediately took note of Rory and his weapons. Jumping to his feet, Marco joined his father and uncle in putting away the rest of camp.
The party wasn’t approaching from Tenduc, which was a good sign. They easily could have been another group of travellers headed for supplies in the city. Rory thought it was better to be safe than sorry, though, and he took up a position by the Pandorica, out of sight.
Five minutes passed before the party came upon them. There were six of them, all mounted on exquisite horses. They were dusty from travel, but their clothes were finely made and they didn’t look undernourished like most travellers. At first it seemed like they might ride by them, but the man at the head of the party took one look at the Polos and he shouted to his men to stop. Rory tensed, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of hostility.
The man looked down at Niccolò and Maffeo from atop his horse, regarding them with narrowed eyes. He was the best dressed out of the group, with a fine silk coat embroidered with gold. If these men were bandits, they were certainly living the high life.
“Are you the brothers Polo?” asked the man. At least, that was the gist of his question. Rory’s mastery of the local language wasn’t as good as the others’.
Niccolò didn’t reply right away, which meant he was weighing his options. After a few moments of silence, he reached into his shirt and pulled out the Khan’s golden emblem that hung around his neck. “Yes, we are the Polo brothers.”
The sight of the emblem didn’t seem to shock the men. Their leader reached into his own coat and Rory had to restrain himself from leaping out of cover. Instead of pulling out a weapon, the man revealed an identical golden emblem. He spoke at length and Rory caught a few familiar words, like “Khan”, “Cathay” and “escort”.
Rory let out a relieved sigh. These were the Khan’s men then, not robbers. Unless these men were bandits and they had attacked the real envoy and stolen their belongings, but he really didn’t want to consider that. Putting his weapons away, he stepped out from behind the Pandorica and tried not to look threatening.
One member of the envoy saw him right away and shouted a warning to the others. Swords were drawn and the riders moved quickly to surround him.
“Wait!” shouted Niccolò. “This is the Centurion. He is of no harm to you.”
Five very sharp swords pointed at Rory’s head. One of the men said something to their leader, likely asking for instruction. The leader spoke to Niccolò, posing a question. Whatever Niccolò’s response was, it involved the Pandorica and he pointed to the covered box sitting in the wagon bed.
The leader nodded thoughtfully and then ordered his men to lower their swords. They did so, but they continued to eye Rory warily as they broke rank. He felt their gazes stabbing him in the back like knives as he walked over to the Polos.
“Could someone tell me what is going on?”
“It seems news of our expedition reached the Khan and he dispatched this envoy to greet us,” replied Niccolò. “They are here to escort us to the Khan’s palace in Chandu.”
“How did ‘news of our expedition’ reach the Khan?” asked Rory. “We did not send word ahead.”
“No, but many have seen us using the Khan’s emblem. I am sure a loyal citizen rode on to tell the Khan of the foreigners in his land.”
“For a tidy sum,” Maffeo added under his breath. Rory coughed, covering up the chuckle that followed Maffeo’s comment. One of the men in the envoy glanced over at them with a frown.
“We should finish packing our things,” said Niccolò, ignoring his brother’s comment. “The Khan is eager to see us.”
Without a horse of his own, Rory had been driving the wagon since they left the mountains outside of Campichu. The ox had a reliable pace that suited him and the Polos just fine, but with the envoy now urging them on to reach the palace, that pace was just too slow. Rory had done his best to get the ox to walk faster, but no amount of rein tugging or slapping was getting the job done.
He sat back with a sigh and let the animal continue on at its own speed. The Polos wouldn’t ride on without him, but the men of the envoy were sending him murderous looks, as if it was his fault that they were trotting along at a snail’s speed.
“I think it’s time we ate you,” Rory said under his breath.
“Did you say something, Centurion?” asked Marco. He rode next to the wagon.
“Um, I was just wondering what the palace will be like.”
“I have been pondering the same notion. Father and Uncle only ever visited the Khan’s palace in Cambaluc.”
Two palaces. How posh of the Khan. “Have you given any thought to what you will do after we meet the Khan?”
“Travel, I suppose,” replied Marco after a thought. “Father and Uncle did not get to explore much of Cathay during their first trip. I would also like to learn more about the various religions in this region. So many are so dissimilar from Christianity.”
“I am sure you will do everything you hope to do, and more.” Rory wasn’t giving anything away as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t remember everything Marco ended up doing while in China anyway.
They travelled along the road for a bit before Marco spoke again. “You could travel, too, Centurion.” He didn’t speak hesitantly, but it was clear he was choosing his words carefully. “The Khan will surely buy the Pandorica; it is far too magnificent to refuse.”
Rory could see what Marco was getting at. Once the Khan bought the Pandorica it would be protected. Rory wouldn’t have to guard it twenty-four hours a day. Marco Polo was inviting him to travel with his family.
It was a flattering, and tempting, offer. Rory travelled with the Pandorica, but he didn’t travel for himself. Everywhere he went was for the good of the stone box. To be free of that responsibility, even for a short while, would have been, well, liberating. What would be the harm in doing something for himself for once?
The answer was remarkably simple. He wasn’t out here for him. He was out here for Amy. He had vowed to stay by her side and he would, no matter what happened. His reward for all of this toil was seeing Amy again. Anything else was superfluous.
“You will travel enough for the both of us, Marco,” said Rory. “Just promise to visit if you are in the area.”
Marco looked down at his saddle; a fleeting look of disappointment passed over his features. When he looked up at Rory again, he was composed once more. “I will bring you news from the farthest shores.”
* * *
Chandu, 1275 A.D.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
When he was fourteen, Rory had to commit “Kubla Khan” to memory for his English class. He had done it with no problems but it had been ages since he thought of the poem. But now, as he passed through the grounds of the Khan’s summer palace, the words came flowing back from the depths of his memory. Imagery that had little meaning to him then now assaulted his senses.
The grounds went on forever. It was more like a park and a zoo than a royal residence. Wild animals roamed free or lounged lazily in the sun. Hundreds of birds either roosted in the tall trees or soared overhead. A sizeable river ran through the grounds, cutting through meadows teeming with wild flowers. Statues of marble and stone lurked wherever you turned, like they were guests of the Khan who had stopped to admire the beauty of the palace and they became frozen on the spot because they couldn’t tear themselves away.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge sure knew what he was talking about.
The envoy led them to the palace stables, which were probably the same size as Leadworth Hospital. The grand scale soon made sense when Rory saw that there were hundreds of horses inside. He had seen a lot of horses over the centuries, but these stallions were beautiful. All white with broad chests and strong legs and huge, soulful eyes. The animals watched them as they dismounted and he felt like he was being criticized. Absently, he straightened out his armour.
The leader of the envoy led them out of the stables and to the palace. One of the palaces, at any rate. Apparently there were two palaces on the grounds, both finely crafted and exquisitely decorated. Maffeo kept a running commentary of what the envoy said so Rory could stay in the loop.
The palace they entered practically glimmered from all the gold that was incorporated into everything the eye could see. The walls, the pillars, the pictures on the wall, hangings from the ceiling, the Khan’s throne. The man spared no expense it seemed.
Compared to the room, Rory and his companions were downright shabby. Their travel clothes were worn and dusty and patched up in some places and all three men needed a haircut and a shave. The envoy leader hadn’t given them a chance to look presentable, though. The Khan wanted to see them the moment they arrived.
Outside of the palace, Rory could just make out the grunts of the palace guards and servants who had been recruited to move the Pandorica from the wagon to the throne room. He felt bad that he wasn’t helping them out.
“This is… extraordinary.” Marco had been surprisingly quiet while they had passed through the grounds. His eyes were wide from drinking in the splendour of the Khan’s summer palace.
“Yes, but if you can imagine it, the Khan’s palace in Cambaluc is even more extraordinary,” said Niccolò, “and construction was only just completed when we arrived. Maffeo and I were spellbound when we first saw it.”
Rory could barely believe what he was seeing now. To think that there was another palace even more opulent than this just boggled the mind. The Khan really knew how to live it up.
And speaking of the Khan… Where was he? They had been waiting for at least ten minutes and he still wasn’t here. If he had wanted to see them so badly, you think he’d show up in a prompt manner.
The others seemed to notice this, too, and they all looked around at each other. This couldn’t have been a trick. They wouldn’t have entered the palace unless the Khan truly wanted to greet them.
Outside, Rory heard the envoy leader shout something at the guards and servants moving the Pandorica. He didn’t sound angry. It seemed more like he was giving some important orders that needed carrying out right away. There was a beat of silence, as if the guards and servants had paused to sigh, and then their hard work resumed, only to Rory’s ears it sounded like the Pandorica was being dragged away from the palace.
The envoy leader soon joined them in the throne room, saving Rory the trouble of seeking him out to ask some questions. “We are leaving,” he said without any preamble.
“What? Why?” asked Rory. They had come all this way and already they were being kicked out? They hadn’t even had the chance to sit down.
The envoy leader addressed Niccolò, ignoring Rory. He scowled at the man and looked to Maffeo for a translation.
“It sounds like the Khan was supposed to leave Cambaluc a week ago to meet us, but an illness has prevented him from doing so. We are to ride to Cambaluc instead.”
Niccolò finished his conversation with the envoy leader. “They are allowing us to stay the night here,” he said, re-joining the group. “We ride at first light.”
A night in a fancy palace? Rory couldn’t complain there.
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
Tenduc, 1275 A.D.
The bird circled overhead, likely targeting a meal on the ground. It was a bird of prey of some sort, but Rory couldn’t tell if it was a falcon or a hawk. Marco watched it intently, only looking away to jot down something in his notes. The leather bound book had seen better days, the spine was cracked and some of the pages were falling out, but it was stuffed full of Marco’s observations since they left Acre. Rory left the young man to his writing. They still needed to pack up camp, but he didn’t see the need to interrupt.
The city of Tenduc lay behind them, but they had chosen not to find lodgings within the city limits. They had all agreed to keep a low profile for the rest of their journey and flashing around the Khan’s golden emblem would definitely get them noticed. To be on the safe side, Rory had avoided the cities altogether and went around them with the Pandorica while the Polos re-supplied. They were getting close to the borders of ancient China and a mishap now, so close to their goal, was not something they wanted.
Niccolò and Maffeo were loading up the wagon, chatting about their previous trip to China. During their first journey they had joined an envoy that was on its way to the Khan’s palace and the route there had been different, not to mention much less uneventful.
“Your son should be a writer,” said Rory, glancing back at Marco.
Niccolò smiled upon seeing Marco so engrossed with his notes. If only he could tell Niccolò that his son would be famous, that there would be Marco Polo sheep and a children’s game bearing his name.
One of their horses looked up from feeding on a patch of grass and turned its head in the direction of the road. The other two horses followed suit, and three pairs of pointed ears twitched nervously. Rory paused and listened, too, and he heard it. The pounding of hooves. A large party was headed towards them.
“Company.” He drew out his sword and his dagger, the twin blades ringing. The Polo brothers exchanged a look and they started packing their gear with greater haste.
“Marco.” Niccolò called to his son, his tone urgent but calm. The young man looked up from his notes and he immediately took note of Rory and his weapons. Jumping to his feet, Marco joined his father and uncle in putting away the rest of camp.
The party wasn’t approaching from Tenduc, which was a good sign. They easily could have been another group of travellers headed for supplies in the city. Rory thought it was better to be safe than sorry, though, and he took up a position by the Pandorica, out of sight.
Five minutes passed before the party came upon them. There were six of them, all mounted on exquisite horses. They were dusty from travel, but their clothes were finely made and they didn’t look undernourished like most travellers. At first it seemed like they might ride by them, but the man at the head of the party took one look at the Polos and he shouted to his men to stop. Rory tensed, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of hostility.
The man looked down at Niccolò and Maffeo from atop his horse, regarding them with narrowed eyes. He was the best dressed out of the group, with a fine silk coat embroidered with gold. If these men were bandits, they were certainly living the high life.
“Are you the brothers Polo?” asked the man. At least, that was the gist of his question. Rory’s mastery of the local language wasn’t as good as the others’.
Niccolò didn’t reply right away, which meant he was weighing his options. After a few moments of silence, he reached into his shirt and pulled out the Khan’s golden emblem that hung around his neck. “Yes, we are the Polo brothers.”
The sight of the emblem didn’t seem to shock the men. Their leader reached into his own coat and Rory had to restrain himself from leaping out of cover. Instead of pulling out a weapon, the man revealed an identical golden emblem. He spoke at length and Rory caught a few familiar words, like “Khan”, “Cathay” and “escort”.
Rory let out a relieved sigh. These were the Khan’s men then, not robbers. Unless these men were bandits and they had attacked the real envoy and stolen their belongings, but he really didn’t want to consider that. Putting his weapons away, he stepped out from behind the Pandorica and tried not to look threatening.
One member of the envoy saw him right away and shouted a warning to the others. Swords were drawn and the riders moved quickly to surround him.
“Wait!” shouted Niccolò. “This is the Centurion. He is of no harm to you.”
Five very sharp swords pointed at Rory’s head. One of the men said something to their leader, likely asking for instruction. The leader spoke to Niccolò, posing a question. Whatever Niccolò’s response was, it involved the Pandorica and he pointed to the covered box sitting in the wagon bed.
The leader nodded thoughtfully and then ordered his men to lower their swords. They did so, but they continued to eye Rory warily as they broke rank. He felt their gazes stabbing him in the back like knives as he walked over to the Polos.
“Could someone tell me what is going on?”
“It seems news of our expedition reached the Khan and he dispatched this envoy to greet us,” replied Niccolò. “They are here to escort us to the Khan’s palace in Chandu.”
“How did ‘news of our expedition’ reach the Khan?” asked Rory. “We did not send word ahead.”
“No, but many have seen us using the Khan’s emblem. I am sure a loyal citizen rode on to tell the Khan of the foreigners in his land.”
“For a tidy sum,” Maffeo added under his breath. Rory coughed, covering up the chuckle that followed Maffeo’s comment. One of the men in the envoy glanced over at them with a frown.
“We should finish packing our things,” said Niccolò, ignoring his brother’s comment. “The Khan is eager to see us.”
Without a horse of his own, Rory had been driving the wagon since they left the mountains outside of Campichu. The ox had a reliable pace that suited him and the Polos just fine, but with the envoy now urging them on to reach the palace, that pace was just too slow. Rory had done his best to get the ox to walk faster, but no amount of rein tugging or slapping was getting the job done.
He sat back with a sigh and let the animal continue on at its own speed. The Polos wouldn’t ride on without him, but the men of the envoy were sending him murderous looks, as if it was his fault that they were trotting along at a snail’s speed.
“I think it’s time we ate you,” Rory said under his breath.
“Did you say something, Centurion?” asked Marco. He rode next to the wagon.
“Um, I was just wondering what the palace will be like.”
“I have been pondering the same notion. Father and Uncle only ever visited the Khan’s palace in Cambaluc.”
Two palaces. How posh of the Khan. “Have you given any thought to what you will do after we meet the Khan?”
“Travel, I suppose,” replied Marco after a thought. “Father and Uncle did not get to explore much of Cathay during their first trip. I would also like to learn more about the various religions in this region. So many are so dissimilar from Christianity.”
“I am sure you will do everything you hope to do, and more.” Rory wasn’t giving anything away as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t remember everything Marco ended up doing while in China anyway.
They travelled along the road for a bit before Marco spoke again. “You could travel, too, Centurion.” He didn’t speak hesitantly, but it was clear he was choosing his words carefully. “The Khan will surely buy the Pandorica; it is far too magnificent to refuse.”
Rory could see what Marco was getting at. Once the Khan bought the Pandorica it would be protected. Rory wouldn’t have to guard it twenty-four hours a day. Marco Polo was inviting him to travel with his family.
It was a flattering, and tempting, offer. Rory travelled with the Pandorica, but he didn’t travel for himself. Everywhere he went was for the good of the stone box. To be free of that responsibility, even for a short while, would have been, well, liberating. What would be the harm in doing something for himself for once?
The answer was remarkably simple. He wasn’t out here for him. He was out here for Amy. He had vowed to stay by her side and he would, no matter what happened. His reward for all of this toil was seeing Amy again. Anything else was superfluous.
“You will travel enough for the both of us, Marco,” said Rory. “Just promise to visit if you are in the area.”
Marco looked down at his saddle; a fleeting look of disappointment passed over his features. When he looked up at Rory again, he was composed once more. “I will bring you news from the farthest shores.”
* * *
Chandu, 1275 A.D.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
When he was fourteen, Rory had to commit “Kubla Khan” to memory for his English class. He had done it with no problems but it had been ages since he thought of the poem. But now, as he passed through the grounds of the Khan’s summer palace, the words came flowing back from the depths of his memory. Imagery that had little meaning to him then now assaulted his senses.
The grounds went on forever. It was more like a park and a zoo than a royal residence. Wild animals roamed free or lounged lazily in the sun. Hundreds of birds either roosted in the tall trees or soared overhead. A sizeable river ran through the grounds, cutting through meadows teeming with wild flowers. Statues of marble and stone lurked wherever you turned, like they were guests of the Khan who had stopped to admire the beauty of the palace and they became frozen on the spot because they couldn’t tear themselves away.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge sure knew what he was talking about.
The envoy led them to the palace stables, which were probably the same size as Leadworth Hospital. The grand scale soon made sense when Rory saw that there were hundreds of horses inside. He had seen a lot of horses over the centuries, but these stallions were beautiful. All white with broad chests and strong legs and huge, soulful eyes. The animals watched them as they dismounted and he felt like he was being criticized. Absently, he straightened out his armour.
The leader of the envoy led them out of the stables and to the palace. One of the palaces, at any rate. Apparently there were two palaces on the grounds, both finely crafted and exquisitely decorated. Maffeo kept a running commentary of what the envoy said so Rory could stay in the loop.
The palace they entered practically glimmered from all the gold that was incorporated into everything the eye could see. The walls, the pillars, the pictures on the wall, hangings from the ceiling, the Khan’s throne. The man spared no expense it seemed.
Compared to the room, Rory and his companions were downright shabby. Their travel clothes were worn and dusty and patched up in some places and all three men needed a haircut and a shave. The envoy leader hadn’t given them a chance to look presentable, though. The Khan wanted to see them the moment they arrived.
Outside of the palace, Rory could just make out the grunts of the palace guards and servants who had been recruited to move the Pandorica from the wagon to the throne room. He felt bad that he wasn’t helping them out.
“This is… extraordinary.” Marco had been surprisingly quiet while they had passed through the grounds. His eyes were wide from drinking in the splendour of the Khan’s summer palace.
“Yes, but if you can imagine it, the Khan’s palace in Cambaluc is even more extraordinary,” said Niccolò, “and construction was only just completed when we arrived. Maffeo and I were spellbound when we first saw it.”
Rory could barely believe what he was seeing now. To think that there was another palace even more opulent than this just boggled the mind. The Khan really knew how to live it up.
And speaking of the Khan… Where was he? They had been waiting for at least ten minutes and he still wasn’t here. If he had wanted to see them so badly, you think he’d show up in a prompt manner.
The others seemed to notice this, too, and they all looked around at each other. This couldn’t have been a trick. They wouldn’t have entered the palace unless the Khan truly wanted to greet them.
Outside, Rory heard the envoy leader shout something at the guards and servants moving the Pandorica. He didn’t sound angry. It seemed more like he was giving some important orders that needed carrying out right away. There was a beat of silence, as if the guards and servants had paused to sigh, and then their hard work resumed, only to Rory’s ears it sounded like the Pandorica was being dragged away from the palace.
The envoy leader soon joined them in the throne room, saving Rory the trouble of seeking him out to ask some questions. “We are leaving,” he said without any preamble.
“What? Why?” asked Rory. They had come all this way and already they were being kicked out? They hadn’t even had the chance to sit down.
The envoy leader addressed Niccolò, ignoring Rory. He scowled at the man and looked to Maffeo for a translation.
“It sounds like the Khan was supposed to leave Cambaluc a week ago to meet us, but an illness has prevented him from doing so. We are to ride to Cambaluc instead.”
Niccolò finished his conversation with the envoy leader. “They are allowing us to stay the night here,” he said, re-joining the group. “We ride at first light.”
A night in a fancy palace? Rory couldn’t complain there.
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Date: 2013-06-24 05:32 am (UTC)*Tries to wait patiently for the next chapter*
*HUGS*
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Date: 2013-06-27 12:51 am (UTC)