Tomlin’s men pressed onward into Domain London territory. It was shortly after dawn that the first skirmish began. A small patrol of London knights were surprised by a patrol of Haldoran men. The three knights tried to fight, but they were taken by surprise. Armour‐piercing shells from two rifles picked off the first two men. The third managed to turn and flee. The rifleman was about to shoot him down when his sergeant stopped him.

‘Let him go, lad,’ he ordered. ‘He’ll take word back that we’re here. That’s what we want. They have to know, and we need them here to fight.’ He turned to his other men. ‘Two of you, secure those horses. They’ll be very handy.’ He walked to where the two knights had fallen. One was dead, the other dying. The sergeant raised the knight’s visor, and looked into the young man’s agonised eyes. It would probably be a mercy to shoot the man and put him out of his misery. But bullets were expensive. Removing his stiletto, the sergeant smiled at the man briefly, and then thrust the point through the left eye and into the man’s brain. He twisted, and pulled the knife free. Wiping it on the grass, he resheathed it and stood up.

‘Take their weapons,’ he ordered.’ And any ammunition. Then we move out.’ He was already forgetting about the man he had just killed. There would be further casualties yet.

Donna had decided to ride into London in everyday clothes instead of her armour. This close to the city, there were no wild animals to worry about. They’d been eradicated long ago. And she couldn’t face the bother of getting into the hot, heavy metal only to remove it again in a couple of hours.

Her night in the TARDIS had been wonderful. A warm bath, complete with a wooden back‐scratcher that had been heavenly, then a comfortable bed. Breakfast had been tea and crumpets again, but she wasn’t about to complain. It was better than strips of dried meat, which was all she had in her saddlebags. Her horse had been patiently cropping grass when she’d untethered him and then loaded on the armour. The Doctor had watched her with what she now took to be his usual good humour. He seemed to be quite an amiable companion.

‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you a ride,’ she apologised, vaulting into the saddle. ‘My steed’s rather loaded already.’

‘Not a problem,’ the Doctor assured her. ‘I enjoy a brisk walk.’ He glanced at the sky. ‘Sixty‐percent chance of rain, I’d say.’ He was carrying a rather garish umbrella with him, twirling it about. ‘It’s nice to be back in England.’

‘Yes, well,’ Donna said carefully, ‘a word of advice. Don’t mention that you’re an offworlder, let alone an alien. It’s not likely to go down too well if you do. There’s a bit of prejudice, you understand.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed mildly. ‘I had noticed.’ He smiled to take the sting from his words. ‘But you seem to be overcoming it fairly well.’

‘I’m a quick learner, Doctor.’

Donna nudged the horse into motion, and the Doctor moved to her left side. She kept the animal to a slow walk, so that the Doctor could keep up. ‘So,’ she suggested, ‘tell me a little about yourself.’

‘It’s a long story,’ he replied, his eyes twinkling. ‘And I’m not just saying that – it really is.’

‘We’ve a couple of hours to kill,’ Donna answered. ‘And I don’t want to spend it all in silence. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.’

The Doctor brightened. ‘Well, if you insist…’

The rattle of gunfire alerted Tomlin to the arrival of the first of the London units. Then the field radio buzzed.

‘Alpha Patrol,’ the radio man reported. ‘They’ve encountered a small force, and have taken cover. They estimate twenty men, four on horses, the rest on foot.’

Tomlin growled. ‘Taken cover? What do they think they’re doing? Order them to engage the enemy. Hiding will get them nowhere. Send Epsilon to reinforce them and let’s get moving.’ He was impatient to get on with things. These small sniping fights weren’t what he was after. Where were the bulk of London’s troops?

Haldoran stood in his war room, listening to Tomlin’s orders being given. All communications channels were being monitored, and he had a large map of the area spread across the floor. He’d seen a picture of Winston Churchill with such a map, and realised that it was wonderful for the morale. His own troops were shown in green, London’s in red. Of course, there were few of London’s shown yet, since the main forces hadn’t been committed.

‘It’s a small thrust,’ Estro decided. ‘Probably to lure Tomlin into committing his men, as he is doing. I’ll wager that London has his main forces moving up beyond the next hill. He’s almost certainly committing to this as the main fight. But almost certainly isn’t good enough yet.’ He studied the map, and looked at both Barlow’s and Craddock’s positions. ‘Another half‐hour, and we should know enough to have them start their pincer attack.’

‘That’s my thought, too,’ Haldoran replied. ‘We’ll wait – for now.’

Donna was surprised when the first buildings of New London started to appear. She’d hardly been aware of the journey, so fascinating were the Doctors stories. If he was to be believed – and, despite the fact she had no proof, Donna was willing to accept everything he’d told her as perfectly true – he’d lived several lives to the full. He’d fought Daleks, Cybermen, Ice Warriors and other creatures she’d never even heard about. What she found refreshing was the lack of machismo in his words after years of listening to her colleagues glorifying their tales of combat. She could tell he loathed the death and destruction that seemed to dog his footsteps.

She felt there was an emotional vulnerability in him, something lacking inside, that prompted his wanderings. What was it he was really looking for? Still, his tales had done more than simply pass the time. She was becoming more and more convinced that he was a genuine and pleasant person. And she was certain that he and her father would hate each other on sight.

‘It might be better if you didn’t actually meet my father,’ she suggested. ‘I can get you to see David Campbell anyway, since he’ll be in the castle. My father’s likely to have questions about you that are probably best left unanswered, at least for now.’

‘You know him better than I do,’ the Doctor said mildly. ‘Naturally, I’ll take your advice. I’m sure he’s a busy man, and looking through records won’t particularly appeal. David will do me fine.’

Eventually they reached the town wall. When he saw the ten‐foot wall circling the main portion of the town, the Doctor’s eyes narrowed.

‘Houses in ruins, roads impassable, civilisation barely on its feet,’ he muttered darkly, ‘and you waste time building protective walls against other humans.’

‘It’s no waste of time, Doctor,’ Donna assured him. ‘It’s a necessity. I told you, the political situation is very unstable, and Haldoran is looking for war.’

‘I’m sure he doesn’t have to look very far,’ the Doctor complained. He sighed. ‘The human race never improves, does it?’

‘Maybe not,’ Donna answered, with a twinge of sadness. ‘But wishing won’t change anything.’

‘It’s a start,’ he told her. ‘Before anything happens, someone has to wish for it.’

They had reached the gateway, where the guard recognised her and unbarred the double door to allow her entry. ‘You’re to report immediately to your father,’ he informed her. He glanced at the Doctor. ‘Who’s this?’

‘A friend,’ Donna said. She wasn’t going to get into lengthy explanations.

The guard laughed without humour. ‘Well, we need all the friends we can get right now. Haldoran’s started his move, and there’s fighting broken out down Bexley way.’

Donna frowned, and her throat tightened. This wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it wasn’t anything she’d been looking forward to, either. She glanced at the Doctor and saw his sombre expression. ‘It seems to have begun,’ she observed.