4

At that moment, Zabaia, High Priest of Marduk, was on his knees, his face pressed into the cold stone of the temple floor, his bony legs trembling. A wind from nowhere was kicking sand and grit into the air and throwing it under his robes, and the roar of some terrible dragon was screeching in his ears. He dared not look up, but he could sense that there was a new presence here. The shape of the space had changed. Something had appeared. Perhaps their god had arrived? Marduk himself.

He gathered up enough courage to open one eye and look across the floor to see what the guards were doing. He was pleased that they, like him, had prostrated themselves before this apparition. No one would laugh at him for a coward now.

‘It is a dragon’s egg,’ he heard one of them whisper.

‘It is hatching!’ said another hoarse voice, and a third voice offered up a prayer for Marduk to protect them all.

Zabaia waited, his heart thumping, his breath caught in his mouth. Waited for the wrath of Marduk to come down upon his head.

‘Hello there.’

Slowly Zabaia raised his head. A man was standing there, dressed strangely in black clothing. And behind him – what fool would imagine it was an egg? – was a large blue chest. The man was eyeing Zabaia with the same puzzled expression that Zabaia himself no doubt wore.

‘Everything all right?’ said the man. ‘There’s really no need to kneel to me, you know. A simple handshake will do.’

Gurgurum, captain of the royal guard, was standing by his king, Hammurabi, looking down on the world from the balcony outside the king’s quarters. From here, high up on the palace walls, they could see all of Babylon. But Hammurabi was not pleased. He was tugging at his beard, fiddling with the beads and precious rings that were knotted into it.

‘My family ruled Babylon when it was little more than a dusty desert village and they built it into the largest city in the world,’ he was saying.

Gurgurum was proud to serve mighty Hammurabi. It was Hammurabi who had enlarged the temples, raised the city walls and strengthened the embankments that stopped the great, muddy Euphrates from flooding the streets. It was Hammurabi who had made Babylon safe. And a safe city can grow rich and powerful. Every day new houses were built, each one grander than the last, and down below Gurgurum could see the people going about their business, haggling in the market-places, hurrying down the crowded streets and across the many bridges.

Outside the city walls, spreading out across the lush green flood-watered plain between the Euphrates and the Tigris, were fruit trees and date palms and wheat fields teeming with slaves hard at work growing the food that fed Hammurabi’s empire. And beyond the fertile plain was the desert, its hills and baked earth the same reddish yellow as the buildings in the city.

‘You are the greatest ruler the world has ever seen,’ said Gurgurum. ‘And you have built the greatest empire the world has ever known. In a few short years you have defeated the kingdoms of Eshnunna, Elam, Larsa and Mari. You have trampled their people underfoot and made them slaves; you have slaughtered their young men. You have brought glory to Babylon.’

‘But do you not feel it, Gurgurum?’ said Hammurabi, slamming his fists on the stone balustrade of the balcony.

‘Feel what, my king?’

‘As if a shadow has fallen across our world. I fear that all this might crumble. That our enemies will snatch it away from us.’

‘We are prepared,’ said Gurgurum. ‘Your army stands ready. Your chariots ride round the city walls to frighten off any enemy tribes who might be foolish enough to launch an attack.’

‘But the priests have warned me that our great god, Marduk of the Fifty Names, might abandon the city,’ said Hammurabi. ‘We sacrifice to him, we wash the mouth of his statue, but the gods don’t much care for the feeble concerns of man. Our cities are dust beneath their feet.’

‘You should not listen to the priests,’ said Gurgurum bitterly. ‘They are like frightened old women. Your strength is in your army. You must rule with the sword.’

Gurgurum knew, though, that there was some truth in Hammurabi’s words. Tremors had been felt beneath the earth lately, and the wall of a temple had collapsed, killing a priest and three of his servants.

‘I must listen to the priests,’ said Hammurabi. ‘They are the only ones who can tell me what the gods are thinking. I cannot sleep for fear that Babylon is under attack from mysterious forces, that my enemies plot against me, that they will send spies and sorcerers to undermine me.’

‘Then kill your enemies. Kill everyone in Babylon who is not a Babylonian,’ urged Gurgurum. ‘Let the Euphrates run red with their blood. Choke the Tigris with their bodies. They have not earned the right to justice. Trust in your strength and the sharp edges of your soldiers’ weapons.’

‘And what if our enemies are the gods themselves?’ said Hammurabi. ‘What then?’

‘Then we pray, my lord,’ said Gurgurum and he laughed darkly.

Hiding to the side of the open doorway, Ali was anxious to see out of the TARDIS and get her first glimpse of an alien planet. But she was obeying the Doctor. The last thing he’d told her before they’d landed was to keep herself hidden and look after the TARDIS for him until he was sure it was safe.

‘I don’t want you in any trouble.’

‘I can look after myself,’ Ali had protested.

‘I’m sure you can,’ the Doctor had said. ‘But I don’t want any upsets here, no unknown unknowns, no surprises that I’m not expecting.’

‘If you’re expecting it, then it’s not a surprise.’

‘Those are my favourite sorts of surprises, Ali – the unsurprising ones. We need to be discreet, OK? I just need to neutralise the Starman and get out quick.’

So did this count as neutralising the Starman? She wasn’t sure. Though when the Doctor had first opened the TARDIS door he’d made a tiny disappointed sound, as if he’d made a mistake in his calculations and hadn’t quite been expecting to find what was out there.

She could hear his voice through the doorway.

‘I need to speak to someone in charge. It’s rather urgent.’

‘Who are you? Are you a messenger from the gods?’

‘Er … You could say that … Yes, let’s say I’m a messenger from the gods.’

Ali wished she could see what was happening. There was the sound of scraping feet, of voices in hurried conversation and then a cry of panic from the Doctor. ‘No! Don’t go in there!’

A man appeared in the doorway, shorter than other men she had seen, wearing a gleaming bronze helmet. He was bare-chested and carrying a spear and shield. When he saw Ali he gasped in surprise and before he could do anything else Ali instinctively lashed out with one of her antenodes. It whipped through the air and struck the man in the side of the neck. His body convulsed and he dropped backwards out of the doorway, dead to the world.

The Doctor had told her to protect the TARDIS, hadn’t he?

She didn’t think anyone else would try to board in a hurry, but she waited there by the door just in case.

There was shouting from outside now and the sound of a scuffle. How she wished she had a better view. And then she heard the Doctor’s voice, strained and muffled. ‘Don’t move, Ali!’ he shouted. ‘Shut the door and wait for me. I’ll be all right!’

She reached over and pushed the door closed. It hadn’t sounded good. The Doctor was in trouble, she was sure of it. If only …

Well, why not? He hadn’t told her not to touch the controls. She was sure there would be something here. Some piece of equipment that would help her see what was happening to the Doctor. Even a cranky old relic of ancient tech like the TARDIS would have scanners of some sort. Surely …

She hurried over to the console, located the main access screen, leaned forward and worked the controls with her fingers, just as she’d spent hours doing at school and college and in her room back home on Karkinos. She was good with technology, and even though this was ridiculously retro she thought she’d have a pretty good idea how to find what she needed.

There.

A few swift adjustments and she had a clear view of the outside. Another tweak and she had sound to go with it. Luckily, the telepathic field of the TARDIS’s translation circuit allowed her to understand every word of what was being said.

Unluckily, it really didn’t sound good.

A man wearing elaborate embroidered robes and carrying some kind of a staff was shouting at the Doctor, who was surrounded by more men armed with spears.

‘Liar! You are not an emissary of the gods, you are a man, like me. You are a spy and the law of Hammurabi clearly states what must be done to spies!’