Doctor Who: The Myth Makers Read Free Page A

they’re honest, they’ve completely forgotten what a sprocket is!
     
    At all events, he was apparently under the impression that he’d landed in the Kalahari Desert, and he was having a bit of trouble with the crew in consequence. So you can imagine his confusion when, expecting to be able to ask his way to the nearest water-hole from a passing bush-man, he found himself being worshipped by a classical Greek hero, with, moreover, a Trojan warrior bleeding to death at his feet.
     
    Achilles didn’t help matters much by immediately addressing him as ‘Father!’ Disconcerting, to say the least.
    ‘Eh? What’s that? I’m not your father, my boy! Certainly not!’ objected the Doctor, lustily. After all, Vicki and Steven were probably listening... ‘This won’t do at all – get up at once!’
    Achilles was glad about that, you could tell. Sand burning his cuirasses, no doubt.
    ‘If Zeus bids me rise, then must I do so...’ He lumbered to his feet, rubbing his knees.
    ‘Zeus?’ enquired the Doctor, surprised. (And I must say he didn’t look a lot like him.) ‘What’s this? Who do you take me for?’
    ‘The father of the gods, and ruler of the world!’ announced Achilles, clearing the matter up rather neatly.
    ‘Dear me! Do you really? And may I ask, who you are?’
    ‘I am Achilles – mightiest of warriors!’ Yes, he could say that now . ‘Greatest in battle, humblest of your servants.’
    ‘I must say, you don’t sound particularly humble! Achilles, eh? Yes, I’ve heard of you...’
    Achilles looked pleased. ‘Has my fame then spread even to Olympus? Tell me, I pray, what you have heard of me...?’
    Not an easy question to answer truthfully, but the Doctor did his best. ‘Why, that you are rather... well, sensitive, shall we say? Or, perhaps, yes, well, never mind...’ He gave up and changed the subject. ‘And this poor fellow must be... ?’
     
    ‘Hector, prince of Troy – sent to Hades for blasphemy against the gods of Greece!’
    ‘Blasphemy? Oh, really, Achilles – I’m sure he meant no particular harm by it!’
    ‘Did he not? He threatened to trim your beard should you descend to earth!’ He’d done nothing of the sort of course.
    Unpardonable.
    ‘Did he indeed? But, as you see, I have no beard,’ said the Doctor, putting his finger on the flaw in the argument.
    ‘Oh, if you had appeared in your true form, I would have been blinded by your radiance! It is well known that when you come amongst us you adopt many different shapes. To Europa, you appeared as a bull, to Leda, as a swan; to me, you come in the guise of an old beggar...!’
    ‘I beg your pardon. I do nothing of the sort...’
    ‘But still your glory shines through!’
    ‘So I should hope indeed...’
    Yes, but obviously such conversations cannot continue indefinitely, and the Doctor was aware of it. He began to shuffle, with dawning social embarrassment.
    ‘Well, my dear Achilles, it has been most interesting to meet you... but now, if you will excuse me, I really must return to my
    – er – my temple here. The others will be wondering about me.’
    ‘The others?’
    ‘Er – yes – the other gods, you understand? I have to be there to keep an eye on things, so I really should be getting back’
    And he turned to go.
    With one of those leaps which I always think can do ballet-dancers no good at all, Achilles barred his way. ‘No,’ he barked, drawing his sword. The Doctor quailed, and one couldn’t blame him. Gods don’t expect that kind of thing.
    ‘Eh?’ he enquired, ‘do you realize who you are addressing?
    Kindly let me pass. Before I – er, strike you with a thunderbolt!’
     
    Achilles quailed in his turn. He didn’t fancy that.
    ‘Forgive me – but I must brave even the wrath of Zeus, and implore you to remain.’
    Well, ‘implore’ yes – but still difficult, of course.
    ‘I really don’t see why I should. I have many other commitments, as I am sure you will appreciate...’
    ‘And