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locker_monsterTitle: The Boy Who Waited (26/49)
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.
“Samurai helping to move the Pandorica wouldn’t be the strangest theory out there,” said Sarah Jane. “I’ve heard even stranger stories.”
Barbara opened the door to her office and gestured for Sarah Jane to enter first. Her office was a bit of a mess but Sarah Jane didn’t seem to care. She moved a stack of papers off one of the chairs in front of her desk, allowing the journalist to sit down. “I feel like I’ve heard them all. Are you familiar with the story about the Dutch-”
“And how they supposedly met a group of Australian Aboriginals who spoke English? That’s a favourite among the office.”
“Do you believe the story?” asked Barbara, sitting down in her own chair. She dropped the stack of papers onto her desk.
“Records from the Dutch expedition are scarce, so it’s hard to say if it’s true, but we know for certain Captain Cook encountered some Aboriginals who spoke English. It’s all right there in his journals.”
Undisputed facts. Barbara hadn’t realized how similar journalism was to being a historian. A story was formed first on available truths and then speculation followed. “And what is your take on how the Aboriginals learned English?”
“You mean, why English and not Latin, if the Lone Centurion was indeed in Australia with the Pandorica?” Sarah Jane smiled. “That’s one mystery I’m still working on.”
“I know the feeling,” said Barbara. History was such an elusive thing. Despite all the research in the world, you couldn’t experience it, just interpret it.
Sarah Jane reached into her purse and pulled out a notebook and a pen, but nothing else. No tape recorder; how refreshing. “I’d like to do a more formal interview, but from the looks of things, you’re more than a bit busy. Would you be against answering a few questions though? It will help us with the general tone of the programme.”
There was still a lot to do, but Barbara didn’t feel like turning Sarah Jane away without offering a few tidbits. From a strictly selfish point of view, which she only harboured in the very back of her mind, she also didn’t want Sarah Jane going to one of her colleagues. The Anomalies was her exhibit. “For you, Ms. Smith, I’ll make the time. Ask your questions.”
“We all know the Pandorica is represented in a number of cultures. The Romans worked it into their friezes, the box is a symbol of power for the Franks, the Muslims consider it another holy relic like the Kabba, and so on. Even the motif of the Lone Centurion is found in various myths and stories. What’s your take on the cross-cultural dissemination of the Pandorica? How did it become such a global touchstone?”
And here Barbara thought they would ease into the difficult questions. This was going to be an interesting interview. She thought over Sarah Jane’s question for a moment. “Every culture has its own concept of good and evil. Personal interpretation is what creates such diversity. One person’s saviour is another person’s devil.”
* * *
Cannanore, 1370 A.D.
There was just something about a port city that made Rory smile. He had visited plenty over the centuries and while they were all alike, they were all different, too. Every port bustled with life, but the flavour of each was unique. Kagoshima was full of fishermen and the air heavily scented with salt. Jaffa had kept people on the move, bringing in pilgrims and sending knights home. And here was Cannanore, full of spices and silks and wobbly looking horses.
“Poor things,” said Rory. As Ichiro guided the Hikaru Maru into a free berth, he watched as a group of horses were led down a ramp of a merchant ship. Though they boasted long, powerful legs, they walked as though they were newborn colts, with awkward, tilting steps. The horses reminded Rory of drunken sailors or people unaccustomed to sea travel.
“Fine horses,” noted Yamada. “They have probably been on that ship for months.”
It seemed a bit silly to Rory. What was the point of shipping horses if they were unable to walk when they reached their destination? Hopefully a good run could put a spring back into their step.
He couldn’t help but sympathize a bit with the horses. They had been sailing non-stop for over four months, since they left Malaysia from Australia. Rory couldn’t wait to have solid ground beneath his feet again. A few storms had rocked the ship during the journey and while the constant sway of the ocean hadn’t made him nauseous, he was tired of watching the horizon bob up and down.
The Hikaru Maru docked without any mishaps. Rory restrained himself from leaping over the ship’s railing and onto the wooden walkway of the pier. They were here for supplies and to make the repairs they had been putting off. When it came to ship business, he wasn’t the one in charge.
Ichiro began issuing tasks to the rōnin. The five samurai had proven to be quite adept sailors. They knew how to follow orders and years of swordplay had made them strong, but nimble. Rory knew his way around the ship, too, but Ichiro never seemed eager to entrust him with a task. Even now, after a year and a half of knowing each other, the man rarely gave Rory anything important to do.
Rory took this in stride. He was used to people not trusting him and tried not to take it personally. While he waited for Ichiro to finish, he looked around at Cannanore’s port. Back in his old life, he hadn’t known much about India, beyond that it used to be a British colony. During his ample free time back in Rome, he had been surprised to learn that the Greeks and Romans had performed trade with India. Even without the invention of the plane or car, the world was still connected. He saw that now, with all of the ships crowding the port. Most of the languages he heard were unfamiliar, but he caught a snippet of Chinese from one of the traders.
“Cen-tur-e-on.” Kasumi still spoke his title haltingly, but she was the only one on the ship who had learned how to say it. She came up next to him and they stared out at the port together. “It is…” She paused, trying to come up with the right word in English. “Handsome.”
Rory suppressed a smile. “Beautiful,” he corrected and then offered the word in Japanese to clarify.
Kasumi nodded her head. “Bee-u-tee-full.”
It was, by no means, perfect, but it was English and Rory was glad to hear it. He had taught the Aboriginals English, as he had promised, and Kasumi had learned, too. She had approached the lessons with more enthusiasm than anyone else, almost treating it like a personal challenge. Six months in and they could hold basic conversations in English. It was a little piece of home when home was still a long ways off.
“Father has finished assigning tasks,” said Kasumi, switching back to Japanese, “and I find myself with some free time.”
Rory was sure this wasn’t a coincidence. Kasumi could convince Ichiro to do anything with hardly any effort. It wasn’t just that she was his daughter and it was impossible to say no; her arguments always made sense.
He took this as a not so subtle hint that she wanted to explore the port city. The young woman smiled at him, her hands clasped innocently behind her back. Rory couldn’t say no either, though mainly because he wanted to explore, too. He needed a change of scenery. “How about some sightseeing?”
Kasumi’s smile fell by a fraction. “See…” She trailed off, clearly confused by the mistranslation.
“Sightseeing.” Rory repeated it in English. “To see the sights.” Kasumi vaguely nodded her head, still not quite getting it. He just shrugged. “Give me a second. I’ll show you.”
He hurried down into the hold and made a beeline for a battered wooden chest sitting in the corner. Ichiro had stored tangled fishing nets in here once upon a time and it still smelled like fish, though maybe that was only Rory as his sense of smell was more acute. He had scrubbed it out as best he could and now it housed items Rory had picked up along the way since they left Kagoshima. It was mostly medical supplies, but there was one object that had nothing to do with medicine. It was wrapped in animal hide to keep it dry and tied shut with strips of leather.
Rory snatched up the long bundle and ran back up to the deck. In the time he was gone, Kasumi had retrieved a straw hat with a wide brim to keep the sun off of her face. When she saw that Rory was ready, she waved good-bye to her father and together she and Rory headed down the ship’s ramp onto the pier. There was a nice, solid thunk when Rory’s boots hit the thick wood of the walkway. Terra firma.
Kasumi recognized the bundle as they headed off. “Is that…?”
“Bargaining chip,” Rory offered with a grin.
More than a few heads turned as they walked along the pier to the centre of town. Some were obviously surprised by Rory’s appearance, his armour and height made him stand out, but he was sure everyone else was staring at Kasumi. It wasn’t just how she dressed, with her silk kimono and her blocky sandals. Everyone was admiring her. Not a lot of beautiful women passed through the docks.
Rory was used to this. Amy turned heads wherever she went; it didn’t matter if they were on Earth or on another planet. Her tall, willowy figure and blazing ginger hair drew the eye and it was impossible not to look. He had learned not to be jealous, but still, it was hard to ignore all of the leering looks. Whether he was aware of it or not, Rory increased his pace, forcing Kasumi to keep up. They quickly left the docks behind and Kasumi said nothing about missing out on seeing what the area had to offer.
The flow of the crowd eventually led them to a nearby marketplace and this was where Rory wanted to be anyway. He wanted to trade and the merchants here looked a tad more scrupulous than the men at the docks. He barely glanced at the wares laid out on the stalls and in front of the shops as his gaze roved over the bazaar.
“What are you looking for?” asked Kasumi. She had been admiring a roll of fine red silk, but had torn her attention away upon noticing that Rory’s interests weren’t on the merchandise.
“Transportation.” Rory took a cautious sniff of the air. The most prevalent smells were of cooked food and pungent spices, with the scent of unwashed bodies and dust just beneath that. It was a lot to sort through, but apparently, Autons were as good as bloodhounds when it came to tracking down a particular scent. Rory continued to inhale deeply as he made his through the crowd and he tried not to think about why a plastic robot would need to have super smelling powers.
Kasumi regarded this behaviour with a quizzical frown, but she kept pace next to him. She and the others were well aware that he wasn’t your average man, but they never questioned him about it. “Would you not prefer to stay within the town?”
Rory didn’t doubt that Cannanore had a lot to offer. With so many ships and merchants coming into the town there would be a plethora of cultures to discover or rediscover. The sight of so many unfamiliar faces, after seeing the same seven people for twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, was also a welcomed change, but Rory had other ideas.
“I would rather go out there.” He pointed to the thriving green forest outside of the town, with its rolling hills and endless blue skies.
“Why?”
They had spent six months in the Australian outback, learning from the Aboriginals while Rory hoped the continent would be discovered some time soon. That ship, both literally and figuratively, never came in, prompting him to move on, but he had left with a greater respect for nature. It wasn’t something to be combated or destroyed. It was there to be enjoyed.
“Because nothing lasts forever.”
The breeze shifted and Rory caught a strong whiff of manure, hay, and that heavy animal scent that accompanied any creature covered with fur. He took a right down a narrow alleyway, nodding at a man seated in one of the doorways of the buildings as he passed. When he exited the alley, he finally found what he had been looking for. The stable was a large sandstone building, bleached by the sun to the colour of old parchment. The newly shipped horses he had seen when they pulled into the docks wandered about in an open corral, still looking mildly disoriented from the trip. Their tails flicked lazily and they kept their heads down.
“Do you know how to ride a horse?” Rory asked Kasumi as they crossed the street.
“Yes, but it has been a long time since I had any practice.”
“It’s like riding…” Rory trailed off, having slipped into English without even thinking about it. Bicycles didn’t even exist yet. “It will come back to you,” he assured Kasumi in Japanese.
A small crowd had gathered around the corral in order to admire the horses. The men who showed the most interest were clearly of little means, but they knew the trade. Others, dressed more elaborately and in finer robes, were just there to flaunt their wealth. Rory wasn’t interested in the new horses; he just needed a steed to take him out of Cannanore.
With the bundle tucked securely under his arm, he and Kasumi entered the stables. She instantly wrinkled her nose. “I had forgotten how bad they smell,” she muttered.
“It is just the stables.” With so many animals clumped together, the less desirable scents were amplified.
Rory zeroed in on a man that looked like the owner or the manager of the stables. He couldn’t understand what the man was saying, but he was clearly extolling the virtues of one particular horse to a potential customer. Rory was reminded of a car salesman trying to use the perfect pitch to reel in a deal.
While the man worked his charms, Rory took a look at the potential mounts available to him and Kasumi. Most of them were average; well fed, but not particularly powerful or tall. All were good for work in the fields, but none would have any issues taking a quick run through the hills. Rory patted the nose of a white horse and the animal gave a gentle whinny.
“He likes you,” Kasumi said with a smile.
As if it was agreeing, the horse nudged Rory in the arm with its snout. It was like a dog trying to get its owner to dole out some more affection. Rory obliged and ran his hand down the horse’s mane.
The owner of the stables immediately took notice of Rory’s interest in the horse. He wrung his hands nervously, but he flashed a hopeful smile that made his moustache perk up. He spoke and Rory could only assume he was saying something along the lines of, “Do you want to buy a horse?”
Rory had become quite adept at pantomime over the centuries; he’d be a brilliant charades player once the game was invented. With a lot of hand waving and gesturing, and a little bit of shouting, the two of them managed to agree that Rory could basically rent two horses for the afternoon for a nominal fee. Seeing as he didn’t have any money, Rory produced the bundle instead.
“It’s from a far off land,” said Rory, knowing that the man wouldn’t understand him, but he made his tone sound as enticing as possible. He unwrapped the bundle, letting the animal skin fall away for a more dramatic reveal. “Handcrafted, one of a kind. You won’t find this anywhere else.”
The stables owner stared dubiously at the object. He raised a dark eyebrow at Rory, as if saying, “Really? That’s worth two horses?”
Rory thought he heard a giggle from Kasumi. He held back a sigh and brought the object to his lips. Using the breathing technique he learned from the Aboriginals, he produced a foghorn like bellow from the didgeridoo.
The stables owner took a step back, more confused than scared. Rory continued to play, faking his way through a tune. The didgeridoo did have an eerie warble to it. Hopefully curiosity alone would encourage the man to accept the trade.
Rory stopped playing and he held out the instrument to the man. The owner eyed the length of wood, like he was trying to work out how the strange sound was made. Rory placed it in his hands with a kind smile. “It’s yours.”
The man blinked a few times and then looked up at the pair of horses in the stalls next to them. His gaze flicked back between the white horse and a chestnut brown one to the left. Two horses for a piece of wood that made funny noises. The man gnawed on his lower lip as he considered the pros and cons. Admittedly, it wasn’t the greatest trade in the world, but Rory’s claim about it being one of a kind was true, at least in this part of the world. At this point in history, there were only vague whispers about a large continent in the southern hemisphere.
He had to wonder if he had just changed history. Would a ship from India be the first to discover Australia now?
Finally, after a minute or so, the man nodded his head. Rory reached out and vigourously shook his hand, sealing the deal. His final glimpse of the stables owner, as he and Kasumi rode off five minutes later, was of the man with the didgeridoo to his lips, his cheeks puffed out, trying to produce the same, echoing sound.
Rory initially kept their pace slow, for Kasumi’s sake, but old muscle memory seemed to kick in and soon she was urging her horse to go faster. She led them off the dirt road leading out of town and took off across the fields. Her straw hat flew off of her head, but she didn’t even look back. Rory nimbly snatched it out of the air as he nudged his horse in the ribs, encouraging it to go faster.
He had missed horse riding. Horses hadn’t been plentiful in the Australian outback and before that he rarely had reason to leave the Khan’s court. It wasn’t something he thought he would enjoy when he first started. He was used to cars and bicycles, vehicles that didn’t have a mind of their own, but working in harmony with another creature soon became the appeal. It was teamwork, like between a nurse and a doctor. You both had to be on the same wavelength if you wanted the outcome to be a success.
The thunder of hooves and the whistle of the wind in his ears brought back memories of riding with the Knights Templar. Hugues and the others were all gone now; over two hundred years had passed since Rory had counted himself as part of their order. The Polos were dead, too, laid to rest back in their native Venice. In time, Kasumi, Yamada, and the others would be just memories, too. He truly meant what he had said earlier. Nothing lasted forever.
A frightful whinny broke through Rory’s reflections and he looked up just in time to see Kasumi’s horse rear up on its hind legs. She hung on for dear life, doing her best to stay in the saddle while also trying to calm her horse.
Instinct took over. Rory drew his sword with his left hand while he gripped the reins with his right. His mind immediately conjured an image of bandits accosting travellers and he charged forward before anyone could bring harm to Kasumi.
There were no bandits, but there was someone standing right in front of Kasumi’s horse, waving their arms frantically. Kasumi had managed to get her horse back down on all fours, but the animal was still spooked and trying to stamp on the intruder. What Rory did next was something he hadn’t done in a long time. He pulled on the reins and kicked his horse hard in the sides. Caught off guard, the horse reared up.
Rory felt bad for kicking the horse so hard, but it pulled off what he had wanted. With his sword raised and the horse standing tall on its back legs, he appeared as an imposing figure to the interloper.
The man, for Rory could now see that the figure was a dishevelled man in mud caked clothes, stumbled back and he gaped at Rory. But instead of looking scared, he looked amazed.
“Kalki!” cried the man and he dropped down onto his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground.
Rory frowned as his horse dropped back down. Was the man… kowtowing?
“What is going on?” demanded Kasumi. Her face was flushed from all the excitement and her efforts to keep her mount in line. The man made an enticing target, there on the ground, and Kasumi’s horse seemed determined to pound the man into the soil with its hooves.
Rory shrugged his shoulders. “Where did he come from?”
“He shot out from the underbrush, right in front of me. I barely had time to react.”
Had they been back in the 21st century, Rory might have thought that the man was trying to hitch a ride. Going off the state of the man’s clothes, maybe he was trying to catch a ride back to civilization. It looked like he had been wandering through the wilderness for days. Though, that still didn’t explain why the man had dropped to his knees when he saw Rory.
He guided his horse over to where the man knelt in the dirt. To be on the safe side, he kept his sword out, not raised in the air, but laid across his lap. The man looked up when he sensed he was being watched. He looked to be in his thirties and was on the thin side, but not malnourished. He said something, but Rory didn’t understand a word of it.
“What did he call you?” asked Kasumi. “Kalki?”
The man jumped to his feet and rushed over to Rory. He noticed that the man was dressed in leather armour, a strange outfit choice for a traveller. He spoke a mile a minute, but from his tone he seemed to be pleading with Rory. Only one word was familiar amongst the babble. Cannanore.
So the man did need a ride. Rory could at least do that and maybe someone back in town could translate.
“Come on then. Cannanore.” He pointed in the direction they came and the man seemed to grasp Rory’s meaning. Rory held out a hand to the man, to help him up onto his horse, but the man frowned and he took a step back. Rory blinked, just a bit confused. It wasn’t fear that made the man hesitate; there wasn’t any terror in his eyes. So why was he afraid to touch Rory?
“He can ride with me,” said Kasumi, noticing the exchange. She smiled at the man and gestured to the spot in the saddle behind her. “It is all right,” she added in a whisper for Rory’s sake. “He looks harmless.”
Rory wasn’t completely convinced, but he knew there was no point in arguing. He realized something else instead. “I dropped your hat.”
Kasumi chuckled softly as the man climbed into the saddle behind her. “You can buy me another once this is over.”
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
“Samurai helping to move the Pandorica wouldn’t be the strangest theory out there,” said Sarah Jane. “I’ve heard even stranger stories.”
Barbara opened the door to her office and gestured for Sarah Jane to enter first. Her office was a bit of a mess but Sarah Jane didn’t seem to care. She moved a stack of papers off one of the chairs in front of her desk, allowing the journalist to sit down. “I feel like I’ve heard them all. Are you familiar with the story about the Dutch-”
“And how they supposedly met a group of Australian Aboriginals who spoke English? That’s a favourite among the office.”
“Do you believe the story?” asked Barbara, sitting down in her own chair. She dropped the stack of papers onto her desk.
“Records from the Dutch expedition are scarce, so it’s hard to say if it’s true, but we know for certain Captain Cook encountered some Aboriginals who spoke English. It’s all right there in his journals.”
Undisputed facts. Barbara hadn’t realized how similar journalism was to being a historian. A story was formed first on available truths and then speculation followed. “And what is your take on how the Aboriginals learned English?”
“You mean, why English and not Latin, if the Lone Centurion was indeed in Australia with the Pandorica?” Sarah Jane smiled. “That’s one mystery I’m still working on.”
“I know the feeling,” said Barbara. History was such an elusive thing. Despite all the research in the world, you couldn’t experience it, just interpret it.
Sarah Jane reached into her purse and pulled out a notebook and a pen, but nothing else. No tape recorder; how refreshing. “I’d like to do a more formal interview, but from the looks of things, you’re more than a bit busy. Would you be against answering a few questions though? It will help us with the general tone of the programme.”
There was still a lot to do, but Barbara didn’t feel like turning Sarah Jane away without offering a few tidbits. From a strictly selfish point of view, which she only harboured in the very back of her mind, she also didn’t want Sarah Jane going to one of her colleagues. The Anomalies was her exhibit. “For you, Ms. Smith, I’ll make the time. Ask your questions.”
“We all know the Pandorica is represented in a number of cultures. The Romans worked it into their friezes, the box is a symbol of power for the Franks, the Muslims consider it another holy relic like the Kabba, and so on. Even the motif of the Lone Centurion is found in various myths and stories. What’s your take on the cross-cultural dissemination of the Pandorica? How did it become such a global touchstone?”
And here Barbara thought they would ease into the difficult questions. This was going to be an interesting interview. She thought over Sarah Jane’s question for a moment. “Every culture has its own concept of good and evil. Personal interpretation is what creates such diversity. One person’s saviour is another person’s devil.”
* * *
Cannanore, 1370 A.D.
There was just something about a port city that made Rory smile. He had visited plenty over the centuries and while they were all alike, they were all different, too. Every port bustled with life, but the flavour of each was unique. Kagoshima was full of fishermen and the air heavily scented with salt. Jaffa had kept people on the move, bringing in pilgrims and sending knights home. And here was Cannanore, full of spices and silks and wobbly looking horses.
“Poor things,” said Rory. As Ichiro guided the Hikaru Maru into a free berth, he watched as a group of horses were led down a ramp of a merchant ship. Though they boasted long, powerful legs, they walked as though they were newborn colts, with awkward, tilting steps. The horses reminded Rory of drunken sailors or people unaccustomed to sea travel.
“Fine horses,” noted Yamada. “They have probably been on that ship for months.”
It seemed a bit silly to Rory. What was the point of shipping horses if they were unable to walk when they reached their destination? Hopefully a good run could put a spring back into their step.
He couldn’t help but sympathize a bit with the horses. They had been sailing non-stop for over four months, since they left Malaysia from Australia. Rory couldn’t wait to have solid ground beneath his feet again. A few storms had rocked the ship during the journey and while the constant sway of the ocean hadn’t made him nauseous, he was tired of watching the horizon bob up and down.
The Hikaru Maru docked without any mishaps. Rory restrained himself from leaping over the ship’s railing and onto the wooden walkway of the pier. They were here for supplies and to make the repairs they had been putting off. When it came to ship business, he wasn’t the one in charge.
Ichiro began issuing tasks to the rōnin. The five samurai had proven to be quite adept sailors. They knew how to follow orders and years of swordplay had made them strong, but nimble. Rory knew his way around the ship, too, but Ichiro never seemed eager to entrust him with a task. Even now, after a year and a half of knowing each other, the man rarely gave Rory anything important to do.
Rory took this in stride. He was used to people not trusting him and tried not to take it personally. While he waited for Ichiro to finish, he looked around at Cannanore’s port. Back in his old life, he hadn’t known much about India, beyond that it used to be a British colony. During his ample free time back in Rome, he had been surprised to learn that the Greeks and Romans had performed trade with India. Even without the invention of the plane or car, the world was still connected. He saw that now, with all of the ships crowding the port. Most of the languages he heard were unfamiliar, but he caught a snippet of Chinese from one of the traders.
“Cen-tur-e-on.” Kasumi still spoke his title haltingly, but she was the only one on the ship who had learned how to say it. She came up next to him and they stared out at the port together. “It is…” She paused, trying to come up with the right word in English. “Handsome.”
Rory suppressed a smile. “Beautiful,” he corrected and then offered the word in Japanese to clarify.
Kasumi nodded her head. “Bee-u-tee-full.”
It was, by no means, perfect, but it was English and Rory was glad to hear it. He had taught the Aboriginals English, as he had promised, and Kasumi had learned, too. She had approached the lessons with more enthusiasm than anyone else, almost treating it like a personal challenge. Six months in and they could hold basic conversations in English. It was a little piece of home when home was still a long ways off.
“Father has finished assigning tasks,” said Kasumi, switching back to Japanese, “and I find myself with some free time.”
Rory was sure this wasn’t a coincidence. Kasumi could convince Ichiro to do anything with hardly any effort. It wasn’t just that she was his daughter and it was impossible to say no; her arguments always made sense.
He took this as a not so subtle hint that she wanted to explore the port city. The young woman smiled at him, her hands clasped innocently behind her back. Rory couldn’t say no either, though mainly because he wanted to explore, too. He needed a change of scenery. “How about some sightseeing?”
Kasumi’s smile fell by a fraction. “See…” She trailed off, clearly confused by the mistranslation.
“Sightseeing.” Rory repeated it in English. “To see the sights.” Kasumi vaguely nodded her head, still not quite getting it. He just shrugged. “Give me a second. I’ll show you.”
He hurried down into the hold and made a beeline for a battered wooden chest sitting in the corner. Ichiro had stored tangled fishing nets in here once upon a time and it still smelled like fish, though maybe that was only Rory as his sense of smell was more acute. He had scrubbed it out as best he could and now it housed items Rory had picked up along the way since they left Kagoshima. It was mostly medical supplies, but there was one object that had nothing to do with medicine. It was wrapped in animal hide to keep it dry and tied shut with strips of leather.
Rory snatched up the long bundle and ran back up to the deck. In the time he was gone, Kasumi had retrieved a straw hat with a wide brim to keep the sun off of her face. When she saw that Rory was ready, she waved good-bye to her father and together she and Rory headed down the ship’s ramp onto the pier. There was a nice, solid thunk when Rory’s boots hit the thick wood of the walkway. Terra firma.
Kasumi recognized the bundle as they headed off. “Is that…?”
“Bargaining chip,” Rory offered with a grin.
More than a few heads turned as they walked along the pier to the centre of town. Some were obviously surprised by Rory’s appearance, his armour and height made him stand out, but he was sure everyone else was staring at Kasumi. It wasn’t just how she dressed, with her silk kimono and her blocky sandals. Everyone was admiring her. Not a lot of beautiful women passed through the docks.
Rory was used to this. Amy turned heads wherever she went; it didn’t matter if they were on Earth or on another planet. Her tall, willowy figure and blazing ginger hair drew the eye and it was impossible not to look. He had learned not to be jealous, but still, it was hard to ignore all of the leering looks. Whether he was aware of it or not, Rory increased his pace, forcing Kasumi to keep up. They quickly left the docks behind and Kasumi said nothing about missing out on seeing what the area had to offer.
The flow of the crowd eventually led them to a nearby marketplace and this was where Rory wanted to be anyway. He wanted to trade and the merchants here looked a tad more scrupulous than the men at the docks. He barely glanced at the wares laid out on the stalls and in front of the shops as his gaze roved over the bazaar.
“What are you looking for?” asked Kasumi. She had been admiring a roll of fine red silk, but had torn her attention away upon noticing that Rory’s interests weren’t on the merchandise.
“Transportation.” Rory took a cautious sniff of the air. The most prevalent smells were of cooked food and pungent spices, with the scent of unwashed bodies and dust just beneath that. It was a lot to sort through, but apparently, Autons were as good as bloodhounds when it came to tracking down a particular scent. Rory continued to inhale deeply as he made his through the crowd and he tried not to think about why a plastic robot would need to have super smelling powers.
Kasumi regarded this behaviour with a quizzical frown, but she kept pace next to him. She and the others were well aware that he wasn’t your average man, but they never questioned him about it. “Would you not prefer to stay within the town?”
Rory didn’t doubt that Cannanore had a lot to offer. With so many ships and merchants coming into the town there would be a plethora of cultures to discover or rediscover. The sight of so many unfamiliar faces, after seeing the same seven people for twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, was also a welcomed change, but Rory had other ideas.
“I would rather go out there.” He pointed to the thriving green forest outside of the town, with its rolling hills and endless blue skies.
“Why?”
They had spent six months in the Australian outback, learning from the Aboriginals while Rory hoped the continent would be discovered some time soon. That ship, both literally and figuratively, never came in, prompting him to move on, but he had left with a greater respect for nature. It wasn’t something to be combated or destroyed. It was there to be enjoyed.
“Because nothing lasts forever.”
The breeze shifted and Rory caught a strong whiff of manure, hay, and that heavy animal scent that accompanied any creature covered with fur. He took a right down a narrow alleyway, nodding at a man seated in one of the doorways of the buildings as he passed. When he exited the alley, he finally found what he had been looking for. The stable was a large sandstone building, bleached by the sun to the colour of old parchment. The newly shipped horses he had seen when they pulled into the docks wandered about in an open corral, still looking mildly disoriented from the trip. Their tails flicked lazily and they kept their heads down.
“Do you know how to ride a horse?” Rory asked Kasumi as they crossed the street.
“Yes, but it has been a long time since I had any practice.”
“It’s like riding…” Rory trailed off, having slipped into English without even thinking about it. Bicycles didn’t even exist yet. “It will come back to you,” he assured Kasumi in Japanese.
A small crowd had gathered around the corral in order to admire the horses. The men who showed the most interest were clearly of little means, but they knew the trade. Others, dressed more elaborately and in finer robes, were just there to flaunt their wealth. Rory wasn’t interested in the new horses; he just needed a steed to take him out of Cannanore.
With the bundle tucked securely under his arm, he and Kasumi entered the stables. She instantly wrinkled her nose. “I had forgotten how bad they smell,” she muttered.
“It is just the stables.” With so many animals clumped together, the less desirable scents were amplified.
Rory zeroed in on a man that looked like the owner or the manager of the stables. He couldn’t understand what the man was saying, but he was clearly extolling the virtues of one particular horse to a potential customer. Rory was reminded of a car salesman trying to use the perfect pitch to reel in a deal.
While the man worked his charms, Rory took a look at the potential mounts available to him and Kasumi. Most of them were average; well fed, but not particularly powerful or tall. All were good for work in the fields, but none would have any issues taking a quick run through the hills. Rory patted the nose of a white horse and the animal gave a gentle whinny.
“He likes you,” Kasumi said with a smile.
As if it was agreeing, the horse nudged Rory in the arm with its snout. It was like a dog trying to get its owner to dole out some more affection. Rory obliged and ran his hand down the horse’s mane.
The owner of the stables immediately took notice of Rory’s interest in the horse. He wrung his hands nervously, but he flashed a hopeful smile that made his moustache perk up. He spoke and Rory could only assume he was saying something along the lines of, “Do you want to buy a horse?”
Rory had become quite adept at pantomime over the centuries; he’d be a brilliant charades player once the game was invented. With a lot of hand waving and gesturing, and a little bit of shouting, the two of them managed to agree that Rory could basically rent two horses for the afternoon for a nominal fee. Seeing as he didn’t have any money, Rory produced the bundle instead.
“It’s from a far off land,” said Rory, knowing that the man wouldn’t understand him, but he made his tone sound as enticing as possible. He unwrapped the bundle, letting the animal skin fall away for a more dramatic reveal. “Handcrafted, one of a kind. You won’t find this anywhere else.”
The stables owner stared dubiously at the object. He raised a dark eyebrow at Rory, as if saying, “Really? That’s worth two horses?”
Rory thought he heard a giggle from Kasumi. He held back a sigh and brought the object to his lips. Using the breathing technique he learned from the Aboriginals, he produced a foghorn like bellow from the didgeridoo.
The stables owner took a step back, more confused than scared. Rory continued to play, faking his way through a tune. The didgeridoo did have an eerie warble to it. Hopefully curiosity alone would encourage the man to accept the trade.
Rory stopped playing and he held out the instrument to the man. The owner eyed the length of wood, like he was trying to work out how the strange sound was made. Rory placed it in his hands with a kind smile. “It’s yours.”
The man blinked a few times and then looked up at the pair of horses in the stalls next to them. His gaze flicked back between the white horse and a chestnut brown one to the left. Two horses for a piece of wood that made funny noises. The man gnawed on his lower lip as he considered the pros and cons. Admittedly, it wasn’t the greatest trade in the world, but Rory’s claim about it being one of a kind was true, at least in this part of the world. At this point in history, there were only vague whispers about a large continent in the southern hemisphere.
He had to wonder if he had just changed history. Would a ship from India be the first to discover Australia now?
Finally, after a minute or so, the man nodded his head. Rory reached out and vigourously shook his hand, sealing the deal. His final glimpse of the stables owner, as he and Kasumi rode off five minutes later, was of the man with the didgeridoo to his lips, his cheeks puffed out, trying to produce the same, echoing sound.
Rory initially kept their pace slow, for Kasumi’s sake, but old muscle memory seemed to kick in and soon she was urging her horse to go faster. She led them off the dirt road leading out of town and took off across the fields. Her straw hat flew off of her head, but she didn’t even look back. Rory nimbly snatched it out of the air as he nudged his horse in the ribs, encouraging it to go faster.
He had missed horse riding. Horses hadn’t been plentiful in the Australian outback and before that he rarely had reason to leave the Khan’s court. It wasn’t something he thought he would enjoy when he first started. He was used to cars and bicycles, vehicles that didn’t have a mind of their own, but working in harmony with another creature soon became the appeal. It was teamwork, like between a nurse and a doctor. You both had to be on the same wavelength if you wanted the outcome to be a success.
The thunder of hooves and the whistle of the wind in his ears brought back memories of riding with the Knights Templar. Hugues and the others were all gone now; over two hundred years had passed since Rory had counted himself as part of their order. The Polos were dead, too, laid to rest back in their native Venice. In time, Kasumi, Yamada, and the others would be just memories, too. He truly meant what he had said earlier. Nothing lasted forever.
A frightful whinny broke through Rory’s reflections and he looked up just in time to see Kasumi’s horse rear up on its hind legs. She hung on for dear life, doing her best to stay in the saddle while also trying to calm her horse.
Instinct took over. Rory drew his sword with his left hand while he gripped the reins with his right. His mind immediately conjured an image of bandits accosting travellers and he charged forward before anyone could bring harm to Kasumi.
There were no bandits, but there was someone standing right in front of Kasumi’s horse, waving their arms frantically. Kasumi had managed to get her horse back down on all fours, but the animal was still spooked and trying to stamp on the intruder. What Rory did next was something he hadn’t done in a long time. He pulled on the reins and kicked his horse hard in the sides. Caught off guard, the horse reared up.
Rory felt bad for kicking the horse so hard, but it pulled off what he had wanted. With his sword raised and the horse standing tall on its back legs, he appeared as an imposing figure to the interloper.
The man, for Rory could now see that the figure was a dishevelled man in mud caked clothes, stumbled back and he gaped at Rory. But instead of looking scared, he looked amazed.
“Kalki!” cried the man and he dropped down onto his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground.
Rory frowned as his horse dropped back down. Was the man… kowtowing?
“What is going on?” demanded Kasumi. Her face was flushed from all the excitement and her efforts to keep her mount in line. The man made an enticing target, there on the ground, and Kasumi’s horse seemed determined to pound the man into the soil with its hooves.
Rory shrugged his shoulders. “Where did he come from?”
“He shot out from the underbrush, right in front of me. I barely had time to react.”
Had they been back in the 21st century, Rory might have thought that the man was trying to hitch a ride. Going off the state of the man’s clothes, maybe he was trying to catch a ride back to civilization. It looked like he had been wandering through the wilderness for days. Though, that still didn’t explain why the man had dropped to his knees when he saw Rory.
He guided his horse over to where the man knelt in the dirt. To be on the safe side, he kept his sword out, not raised in the air, but laid across his lap. The man looked up when he sensed he was being watched. He looked to be in his thirties and was on the thin side, but not malnourished. He said something, but Rory didn’t understand a word of it.
“What did he call you?” asked Kasumi. “Kalki?”
The man jumped to his feet and rushed over to Rory. He noticed that the man was dressed in leather armour, a strange outfit choice for a traveller. He spoke a mile a minute, but from his tone he seemed to be pleading with Rory. Only one word was familiar amongst the babble. Cannanore.
So the man did need a ride. Rory could at least do that and maybe someone back in town could translate.
“Come on then. Cannanore.” He pointed in the direction they came and the man seemed to grasp Rory’s meaning. Rory held out a hand to the man, to help him up onto his horse, but the man frowned and he took a step back. Rory blinked, just a bit confused. It wasn’t fear that made the man hesitate; there wasn’t any terror in his eyes. So why was he afraid to touch Rory?
“He can ride with me,” said Kasumi, noticing the exchange. She smiled at the man and gestured to the spot in the saddle behind her. “It is all right,” she added in a whisper for Rory’s sake. “He looks harmless.”
Rory wasn’t completely convinced, but he knew there was no point in arguing. He realized something else instead. “I dropped your hat.”
Kasumi chuckled softly as the man climbed into the saddle behind her. “You can buy me another once this is over.”
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