T

he herd scattered when the battered blue police box appeared from nowhere in to the middle of the pasture.  Gradually the discord heralding its arrival faded and stopped. Nervously, one cow trotted up and curiously studied the wooden contraption.  If it could have seen inside, its simple animal mind would have been unable to comprehend the impossible sight laid out before it.  It would not have realised that from outside it appeared as if it would not have been big enough for a small cow, but inside there was room for countless.  Not that the occupier would have been at all happy with the thought of muddy hoof prints and cow-pats all over the gleaming white decor of his time machine, of course.  But it did not seem to be of any threat or use to the bovine community, and was rapidly forgotten as the herd began to devour the grass directly in front of it.

 

At present the small scruffy little man, who had ‘borrowed’ the TARDIS so long ago, was scuttling around the many sided console set in the middle of the control room.  Dressed in check trousers, a frock coat, and supporting a mop of black hair in the Beatles cut, he gave the air more of a silent movie clown than the travelling adventurer to many different worlds and times. 

 

Victoria stood to one side, watching her friend at work.  It was at times like this that she felt like baggage.  With her father being one of the great geniuses of the Victorian era, she herself had absorbed some knowledge of technology.  When the Doctor pulled her away from that time and took her journeying throughout the cosmos, this knowledge became useless.  It was shown to be primitive, or at best quaint.  She was grateful for the experience of course, but she wished she could offer more to the partnership.  And she so wished they could visit somewhere peaceful. 

 

Sometimes she wondered if it would have been better if she had no knowledge at all of science.  Maybe the less you knew the easier it was to adjust.  After all Jamie, plucked from the Jacobite revolution long before she was born, seemed to adjust remarkably well to each new challenge presented to him.  As usual, he was dressed in his Highland kilt and positioned expectantly in front of the scanner.  However, it was Victoria that spoke first.

 

‘So where are we, Doctor?’

 

Briefly the Doctor glanced at the pretty mini-skirted girl, before studying the dials.  Portraying a satisfied grin he flicked a switch. With a whine of machinery, the scanner slowly opened.

 

‘Well then Victoria, the readings say we’re on the fifth planet of the Acteon Galaxy.  A very desolate place I’m afraid, unlike some of its neighbours.  It hasn’t rained for millions of years.’

 

‘So there’s nay vegetation?  Nay grass?’ said Jamie.

 

The Doctor sadly shook his head.  ‘None I’m afraid.’

 

‘No cows?’ said Victoria with a smile.

 

‘Cows?’

 

‘Cows!’ exclaimed Victoria, pointing at the scanner, ‘We’re on Earth again aren’t we?’

 

For the first time the Time Lord noticed the scanner picture.  Instead of a vast desert of rolling sand dunes, there was the unmistakable view of bovines happily grazing on lush green fields.  His face falling, the Doctor tried to hide his embarrassment.

 

‘They may not be cows,’ he said stubbornly, ‘I once met a race very similar to the grasshoppers of Earth.  Except they were four foot long and highly  intelligent. Furthermore…’ 

 

‘Nothing like grasshoppers then,’ interrupted Jamie, ‘Face it Doctor. You know that you cannie control the TARDIS.  We’re definitely home again.’

 

‘Yours maybe,’ mumbled the Doctor, before striding to the door and saying loudly, ‘It looks like a gorgeous day.  Anyone coming?’

 

Minutes later, the cows’ meal was abruptly cut short by a thump of a door opening and three people stepping out into the sunshine.  The herd fled to the far reaches of the pasture.  Choosing a direction at random the time travellers set off.

 

‘So where and when do’ya think we’ve landed?’ asked Jamie, as the trio trudged across the dried mud.

 

‘Well judging by the wildlife, I’d say the British Isles.  As for when?’  The Doctor paused to glance around at the countryside before continuing, ‘Well there doesn’t seem to be any intense agricultural farming, but they’ve already started planting hops and the land is partially enclosed.   Hmm… I’d say mid spring, somewhere near the end of the eighteenth century. Before Victoria was born, and a good fifty years after the Jacobite rebellion.  Should be interesting for you both.’

 

‘You mean, one person’s recent history, and the other’s future?’ said Victoria brightly.

 

‘Um yes, well something like that.’

 

Victoria smiled to herself.  Her companion was a proper Sherlock Holmes with all his deductive reasoning, and of course he was right about her excitement in observing history first hand.  Whilst they traipsed across the countryside, she couldn’t help letting her mind wander.  If she remembered her lessons correctly, it would be mad old King George on the throne.  She used to enjoy the stories about mad King George, told to her by her father when she was a little girl.  Mental images of the mad King talking to trees had always made her giggle.  But now such family memories were of a long gone past life.  Her father’s loss, dying to save the Doctor from an alien death ray, still troubled her.  But the TARDIS was her home now.  And the occupants her family.  It didn’t do to linger on the past, but the stories of the mad King brought back memories of old times that she knew she would never want to forget.  She was so engrossed in these thoughts that she didn’t realise that she had wandered off ahead of Jamie and the Doctor.  When her foot trod on something soft and squishy, she looked down and shrieked.

 

Immediately, her companions rushed to her side, to find her frozen in mid-step.  An expression of horror and distaste was splattered on her beautiful features.  Victoria glanced at her right shoe, and quickly tore her eyes away.  The black leather was dotted with beads of thick red blood, intermingled with disgusting white strands of wool and flesh.  She had, in the truest sense of the phrase, put her foot in it.  The Doctor knelt down to study the mutilated carcass that lay at her feet, and Jamie was quick to follow.  Determined to present some show of courage, the young girl swallowed hard and leant closer to listen to her friends’ conversation, whilst doing her best to ignore her spoiled footwear.

 

‘It’s a sheep,’ said the Doctor matter-of-factly.

 

‘Aye, but what could have slaughtered yon beastie in this fashion?’ came Jamie’s reply. 

 

Victoria shuddered when she saw that the sheep was a bloody mess, and had been literally torn apart.  Almost its entire head was nothing more than a mash of crimson tissue.  Not wanting to miss out on any developments, she pushed her revulsion aside, and continued to eavesdrop on her fellow travellers’ conversation. 

 

‘Whatever it was there were a lot of them.’  The Doctor pointed towards several small tear marks on the animal’s body. ‘These look like rodent bites.’

 

‘Rats?’ asked Jamie.

 

‘Oh no, too small for rat bites.  More like field mice.’

 

‘Are you saying that this sheep was attacked by a gang of field mice?’ said Victoria in disbelief, her fear suddenly conquered by the Doctor’s unexpected words.

 

Before the little time traveller had a chance to reply, Jamie pointed towards a shape striding across the field.  The outline of a man.  On spotting them the figure raised a pitchfork defiantly, and strode quickly towards them.  The Doctor hurried to meet a tall wiry male, with a thin sunburnt face.  Victoria supposed he was a local farmer, and they were probably trespassing on his land.

 

‘Ah good afternoon.  I’m the Doctor,’ enthused her friend, pumping the poor man’s arm so vigorously that the pitchfork fell limply by his side.  ‘This is Jamie and Victoria.  We’re travellers.’

 

‘Jonathan Seddon.  I heard a woman’s scream.   I thought that maybe footpads were…’ 

 

The farmer words dried up in mid-flow, when he saw the carcass at the time travellers’ feet. Anger flashed across his face.  However, before he was able to say another syllable, the Doctor continued his cheery conversation.

 

‘John… I may call you John mayn’t I?  Good!  Well John, was this your animal?’

 

John nodded dumbly before muttering, ‘Damn!  That’s the third this week!’  Suspicion crept in to his eyes, and he turned to confront the Doctor, ‘Have you got anything to do with this?’

 

‘Oh no… I assure you we’ve only just arrived.  The third?  Have there been many more cases like this?’

 

The farmer nodded, seemingly unaware of his interrogation.  He mumbled almost to himself,  ‘If this keeps up I’ll be ruined.  Devil’s work to drive a poor Christian soul to an early grave!’

 

‘Is it just sheep?  No other deaths?’

 

John’s eyes darted to the small crumpled man in front of him, and across to his male companion.  A flicker of surprise showed on his weathered features when he saw Jamie’s kilt, but he said nothing.  The Doctor repeated his question and carefully the farmer answered.

 

‘Depends what you mean, dunnit.  My neighbour, Henry died ‘bout three or four nights back, God bless his soul.  And so did that rascal Tom Sawkins, but I’m sure that has nought to do with the death of my animals.’

 

Victoria plucked up the courage to ask what was on all the travellers’ minds, ‘What… what happened to them?’

 

Until that instant the farmer hadn’t noticed her, as she had been hidden behind the two men, but now she was in plain sight John’s face turned scarlet.  Abruptly he turned away, his anger at the loss of his livestock seemingly forgotten.  It took a split second for Victoria to grasp the problem, and when realisation dawned she looked at her attire in shock.  Not only could the farmer see her ankles, but he could see all the way to her thighs.  For the first time since she left Victorian England, the young woman felt immodestly dressed.  The long frocks and multiple layers of petticoats, that she used to wear to cover her shame, were completely unsuited to intergalactic travels.  It had become so easy to slip in to the habit of short skirts and skimpy tops.  Indeed, she firmly believed that the clothes she wore were not a great deal different in principle to Jamie’s kilt.  But there was a time and a place for everything.  With horror Victoria realised that she had forgotten her Victorian morals.  It was her turn to flush.   

   

‘Village is two miles down lane.  If you’re travellers no doubt you want a bed for the night. Ask at The Rose and Crown,’ said John gruffly to the Doctor, avoiding a direct line of vision with Victoria.  As he strode away the trio could hear the mumbled words, ‘No Christian woman would dress like that.  Whore and harlot I wouldn't wonder.’

 

‘Doctor…’ began Victoria, when the farmer was out of sight.

 

‘You want to go back and change?  Probably a good idea,’ said the Doctor softly, ‘Jamie could you go with Victoria to the TARDIS?  I'm going to take a look at The Rose and Crown.’

 

‘Shall we meet you there for a wee dram?’ said a hopeful Jamie.

 

‘Hmm… all right.  But if you have time could you pop in to the church and find out what you can about a Mr Tom Sawkins?  See if he was buried there and how he died.’

 

For a few moments, the Doctor watched his companions begin to retrace their steps back to the TARDIS.  Once they had disappeared, he fished in to his pockets and brought out a battered recorder.  Blowing an experimental note, he pulled a face at the unmusical noise. Again he placed his lips to the instrument, and this time a simple version of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ was brought forth.  Music always helped him to think, and he had a lot on his mind. Something was wrong and he didn't like it one bit.