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Regeneration, the sequel: part one
Title: Regeneration, the sequel: part one
Rating: PG
Notes: Crossover Hornblower/Dr Who/Torchwood
The original here did not turn out as intended and neither did this. I apologise to all the fandoms concerned and - as usual - to the Bard.
Oh and incidentally; work, work your thoughts - think, when we talk of Archie resembling Henry V that you see him so....
No claim made on or profit made from these characters.
Archie Kennedy looked at the box of delights as he had christened the strange object on the table, then played with the little device that operated it and made it do such amazing things. He felt gratified to have something to keep him occupied, now that he felt so much better and had the energy to get up and around - each day for a longer time and in a more ambitious manner. Horatio was insistent that he did not overdo things, of course.
They had decided, the four of them, that they would not return the lieutenants until Kennedy was almost completely restored – he’d just have to be a good actor come their arrival back in Kingston. And, as William Bush had pointed out, when you could appear where and when you wanted in time and space, then spending two days or twenty two in 2007 made no difference to your eventual arrival in 1802.
Now Archie was beginning to chomp at the bit, both at being confined to his bed for ridiculous lengths of time and at the fact that he seemed to be the rope in a tug of war between Hornblower and Harkness. While being stuck between those two men was not an unpleasant place to be, it did not make life exactly smooth. He took refuge in the little remote control thingy and pressed lots of buttons at random.
“Glad to find you amusing yourself,” Horatio suddenly poked his head around the door, probably hoping to catch Jack unawares hovering at the sacred bedside.
“Oh this thing’s absolutely marvellous. Jack says it’s called a television and it makes a record of plays and lets you watch them when you will. Or something like that.”
Horatio was well aware of television. The first night he'd been in this wretched place, he'd been rather taken under the wing of a young chap called Ianto who was one of Jack's team. And by the look in a certain person's eye, a bit more than that, on the side. Hornblower had liked the man - he was quiet and appeared sensible and understated, qualities that seemed to be sorely lacking in the rest of the people he'd met here.
Unfortunately Ianto's attention had not been fully on the task in hand when they'd been introduced - he'd registered the Horatio part, but not the man's surname, being momentarily distracted by speculation as to whether Harkness looked nicer in a light blue shirt or a dark. But he fully understood the provenance of this naval officer and had thought it prudent to entertain him with this television contraption and something called a DVD.
At least Hornblower had appreciated the spectacle he was shown, it concerning a thrilling sea chase; he'd been very taken with the young lieutenant on display - there was a man who knew his duty - although this officer did seem over familiar with his captain. Said commander was a paragon of good judgement and Horatio heartily endorsed all his decisions, especially the flogging, although he was rather disappointed in the frigate leaving off the chase and re-visiting the Galapagos, ultimately successful though that had proved. At one point Ianto thought Hornblower was going to leap into the television and attempt to have at the French marauders, but he controlled himself, resorting merely to making the odd comment about the state of the wind in the sails and how it bore no relation to how the ship was truly progressing.
At the end he had been much elated. "And are there any more DVD's like this, Mr Jones?"
"Not many as good as this one. They did make a series of films for ITV a few years back about this naval officer, but it looked like it'd been filmed in my Auntie's washtub and the fight sequences were pretty wussy stuff. The hero now, right miserable bastard he was, though he had a friend that stuck up for him through thick and thin. Poor bloke - all the crap got dumped on him and matey drifted through it all untouched. It was called," Ianto's sudden recollection of the surname of the man he was sharing beer with was in time to let him pretend that the name of the hero of the film had escaped him. Luckily Horatio was never any the wiser, old Three-stripes-on-my-shoulder having appeared to spoil the fun.
“What have you been watching then, Archie? Anything interesting?”
“Oh there was a rather annoying thing in which two badly dressed women tried to persuade a rather nicely turned out lady to dress as shoddily as they did – I soon got fed up with that as I kept shouting out stop it you wenches but they couldn’t hear me. So I found something else – a nice bit of Shakespeare. It was a production of 'Much Ado about Nothing' which was very funny, especially as Benedict looked just like Captain Pellew and Beatrice was the image of Kitty Cobham. Ah, Jack!” Archie beamed as Harkness entered the room, looking particularly dapper today.
Horatio greeted him with his usual scowl – he had worked very hard these last few days not to let Jack and Archie be alone together and he was not now going to fall for any Mr Bush requires your assistance type lines.
“Archie, Horatio. How are we feeling?”
“Fit as a flea, Jack. Anxious to be up and at them, you know.”
Harkness looked thoughtful. “Mr Hornblower, The Doctor wishes you to help him with some adjustments to the TARDIS.” He spotted the belligerent look crossing his rival’s face and held up his hand. “And he asked me to remind you that he is still technically your commanding officer, so…”
If looks could have killed, even the immortal Jack would have breathed his last at that point. Horatio elaborately and meaningfully patted Kennedy’s hand and left the room, muttering. He didn’t like it one bit and he didn’t trust Harkness as far as the man’s rather garish blue braces might stretch, let alone to the side of Archie’s bed. He had a distinct and unpleasant remembrance of the two of them snogging when he had come round from his fit of unconsciousness (he would have it be known he had not fainted).
Kennedy had reassured him afterwards that this was merely something called 'artificial respiration', a means of getting air into the lungs of someone who needed it urgently. Jack had done it before when Archie had first been brought to Cardiff at death’s door and it had worked, had it not? Did Horatio want him just to be left to choke to death or should the proper treatment not be administered? There was no answer to that, although Horatio did mutter to himself that if it was just air being provided, did it really need a tongue to stir it with?
The awful thought that a third bout of artificial respiration might be being administered when he returned did not fill him with any sort of joy.
“He doesn’t trust me, does he? Lover boy?” Jack tipped his head towards the door.
“It’s all been very unsettling for him. How much do you know about us – our story?”
“Well, what historical records couldn’t provide – and they were pretty economical with the truth when it came to the personal stuff – William was able to come up with.”
“Then you know that he nearly lost me more than once – this latest episode has just served to make him even more protective.”
“But can’t he loosen up? Doesn’t he understand that things are different here and now – he can’t be hung for what he feels.”
Archie laughed ruefully. “I think in some strange way that makes it even worse. A great one for rules and regulations, Mister Hornblower, even when he’s breaking them. The conventions are so different in this century that it makes him rather uncomfortable.”
“He needs a bit of an adventure to occupy his mind.” Harkness sat down on the bed. “Has Ianto been to see you?”
“Indeed he has. Such a nice chap – brought me a lovely cup of coffee, to boot. He said that there might be something in the offing that you may need a hand with. I hope,” he added, adopting his best you can deny me nothing face, “that I won’t have to miss out on any jaunt that’s to be had.”
Harkness grinned. “You’re an integral part of the plan, Mr Kennedy.” He patted Archie’s hand – it was a pleasant thing to do and carried with it the bonus that if Hornblower were to walk back in the room he’d go spare. “Did Ianto give you any details of our mission?”
“No; he said he’d leave that in your capable hands.” Kennedy frowned. “And then he began to giggle and said that when I was feeling one hundred per cent fit I should ask you about stopwatches.”
Jack grinned, revealing a row of teeth of such perfection that Kennedy, used to the discoloured and distorted gnashers of his crewmates, could only gasp in astonishment again - as he had the first time these pearly wonders had been revealed. “I think that particular subject would give your Horatio a heart attack. Let’s keep to the business in hand. More’s the pity,” he added, risking another squeeze of Archie’s rather nice cheeks. The recipient of the affection didn’t mind – he’d decided that the twenty first century must be a very tactile time and all sorts of familiarities were acceptable.
“Now, tell me, Mr Kennedy – what do you know about Agincourt?”
***
“What I don’t understand,” Horatio butted into the briefing for the thirteenth time, “Is that, if you went to such trouble to ensure that we survived Kingston, why are you risking our lives again before we can even return there?”
“The ripples of time, Horatio.” Kennedy might not have the acumen of his friend when it came to either trigonometry or naval combat but he’d grasped the concept very quickly that a small change to history – a minor incident taking place in a different way – might have earth shattering repercussions in the future.
They were all sitting around a table in Jack’s office, Renown’s three officers, Harkness and Ianto. The Captain and The Doctor had explained very succinctly – aided by a range of evidence that Mr Jones had provided – that the same organisation that was trying to play merry hell with the defences against Napoleon’s invasion had got fed up with The Doctor interfering with their plans and had decided to dabble a bit further back in history, thereby eliminating the need completely of tinkering with life either side of 1800. They were believed to be targeting Henry the fifth, trying to snatch defeat from the jaws of his magnificent victories.
It was said that they would seek to capture the King on the very eve of St Crispin’s day, so that he would not be able to give his troops the rousing speech which had fired them up so much that they had won the day at Agincourt against overwhelming odds. Nor would he be able to provide the little touch of Harry in the night that would make such a difference to his troops’ morale. On such small things were battles won and lost.
The key thing seemed to be that William (for so they thought of him, the title of Doctor always making them think of Clive, which was not pleasant) was convinced that Archie bore a marked resemblance to Henry V and, should the kidnapping succeed, then they could put in what he referred to as their ringer and Kennedy could do the speechifying and cheering up the troops. Hopefully the real King could be restored before any actual fighting occurred, but Kennedy would be given a full briefing on the events of St Crispin's day as history had it recorded, which might not be exactly as Shakespeare depicted. Although the Bard's words were probably a lot better than the dialogue that was probably employed and Ianto had suggested that Kennedy had better bone up on it anyway, as it might be useful to spout.
Archie was intrigued by his alleged resemblance to the monarch. He knew that he was the spit and image of the Earl of Southampton and his mother had often asserted that some Kennedy ancestor must have had a horse with a lot of stamina and a kilt with the same propensities. But this new revelation would suggest that another one of his forebears might just have cuckolded Henry IV, which was rather too much for a man to take. He excused himself the rest of the briefing - which would concern the others' roles - and said that he'd take himself to lie down with a copy of the first folio.
As he understood it, Harkness and Bush would be in charge of rescuing the King, leaving Hornblower and Jones to act as what Jack called 'The Royal Minders'. They simply had to get Kennedy into the right place - which would be rather 'busking it', whatever that was - at the right time and make sure he said what he needed to and exited stage left to a standing ovation.
Horatio wasn't sure he understood all the figures of speech, although one of the things that had struck him so forcibly here was the continued use of naval expressions, most of them long disconnected from their naval origins. By and large the plan should work. The devil to pay if we don't get the coffees in on time. It made no bloody sense when no-one had the least idea what sailing by or large was or why you would ever need pitch hot for some satanic figure. It was one of the many things about the twenty first century that Horatio hated and he had no great hopes that the fifteenth would be any better.
***
It was raining - the sort of rain tipping down on Justinian the first day Hornblower and Archie had met. And now Henry's army stood about them in their makeshift camp, with little or no shelter to be had, peering out through the murk to see if they could spy the French lines and wondering if the opposition were having just as miserable a time of it. Outnumbered, their ranks diminished by sickness after Harfleur, the remnant becoming disheartened in the mud and the cold. It was the lack of spirit that the lads had to overcome - to get the vital Longbowmen into battle in the mood to fight, not to give in before the punch up commenced.
They'd arrived just in time to make an attempt to thwart The Master's kidnapping plans, but his accomplices had fought hard to overcome their efforts, leaving Harkness with a bloodied nose, a sight which made Hornblower much more cheerful. The King had been whisked out of his tent, although they were pleased to see that he hadn't actually been killed there and then. Perhaps his captors had felt that to assassinate the monarch would rouse the English army to such a fever pitch of vengeance - after all, the French would be automatically blamed - that it would scupper their plans of seeing the victory go to the Dauphin's men. Jack and William had set off to perform their rescue, leaving Kennedy to play his part and his two minders to keep him safe in the process.
"He has to do it, Horatio - I can understand what some of the Welshmen are saying even if you can't," Ianto's deep tones hissed in Horatio's ear. "They need a pep talk or tomorrow will go tits up."
Hornblower bridled at the crudeness. "But he'll catch his death of cold - I can't have him rescued from one encounter with mortality only to be driven into its arms again." His face was pale; he and Archie had fought side by side often enough but this was the first time he'd wished that his lover had been out of it all. Perhaps all the instances of seeing him lying in that prison hospital had made Horatio soft.
"Sometimes you have to take the risk - you can't always be the one doing the heroics, risking your life. Let him put himself in danger for once. Give him a bit of the limelight." Jones gently took Hornblower's hand. "I know what he means to you. But there's times when you have to risk the thing you love - for the sake of duty or whatever you want to call it." He suddenly grinned. "I sound like some idiot character out of that ITV drama; not a meaningful word coming out of my gob. Let's get the Kingmoving then."
The royal captain of this ruin'd band began his progress; through the mud - booted and cloaked against the elements - Archie Kennedy, alias King Henry the fifth, processed. He grew into the role, having had very little contact so far with anyone apart from some of his key officers. With them he had adopted a sort of serene, all knowing air of supreme confidence that dealt with his need not to open his mouth too much in case an appalling faux pas was committed. It had been surprisingly successful, particularly as the murky afternoon and ill-lit tent had allowed him some degree of hope that his impersonation would not be smoked.
Cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; well that was certainly true in Horatio's eyes. He admired the way that Archie spoke to all and sundry, carrying off his role with aplomb. It was the height of folly of course - they could be easily caught out at any moment, but Bush had assured him that he and Harkness did this sort of thing all the time, had been doing it for beyond donkeys' years. Flying by the seat of your pants, Mr Hornblower - there's nothing like it. Thinking on your feet - playing it by ear. Like fighting in a fleet battle where nothing is predictable and where each move has to be reassessed every minute. Put like that, Horatio could quite see the appeal. In the mud and cold and mutterings from the men about the bloody French ambushing them on their way home, he was not so convinced.
But one thing did strike him; that Henry himself must have been one hell of a leader - like some royal Pellew, he guessed - to have taken this despondent rabble and make them the victors at the cost of a relatively small butcher's bill. Yes, he knew that the Welsh longbowmen were said to be the crucial difference, but they had to feel like loosing their arrows. And now the responsibility for getting them into that frame of mind lay on his lover's shoulders, with him and Jones in support.
It was as if Ianto had been picking his brains. "Lots of men to get round, here, Horatio. Think we need to be putting a word or two in their ears. The Doctor says you're a bit of an inspirational leader yourself - what about giving a few pep talks of your own?"
"And who'll keep an eye on Mr Kennedy?"
"He'll be safe with me." Jones suddenly sounded more confident than he had back in Cardiff - this was a man who thrived under the duress of action. "You go and play your part."
Perhaps the men didn't pluck comfort from his looks, as they did with Kennedy, but they took it from his words. The sort of rallying calls he used for his gun crews when they went into action, the authoritative words he'd employed to keep his men together and not despondent after their return to Ferrol, he utilized them all. As Archie moved among the men, spreading his largess universal, like the sun, then Horatio followed suit, inspiring and motivating. If they were all going to hell in a handcart - another of Jones' colourful expressions - then he was going there fighting.
Rating: PG
Notes: Crossover Hornblower/Dr Who/Torchwood
The original here did not turn out as intended and neither did this. I apologise to all the fandoms concerned and - as usual - to the Bard.
Oh and incidentally; work, work your thoughts - think, when we talk of Archie resembling Henry V that you see him so....
No claim made on or profit made from these characters.
Archie Kennedy looked at the box of delights as he had christened the strange object on the table, then played with the little device that operated it and made it do such amazing things. He felt gratified to have something to keep him occupied, now that he felt so much better and had the energy to get up and around - each day for a longer time and in a more ambitious manner. Horatio was insistent that he did not overdo things, of course.
They had decided, the four of them, that they would not return the lieutenants until Kennedy was almost completely restored – he’d just have to be a good actor come their arrival back in Kingston. And, as William Bush had pointed out, when you could appear where and when you wanted in time and space, then spending two days or twenty two in 2007 made no difference to your eventual arrival in 1802.
Now Archie was beginning to chomp at the bit, both at being confined to his bed for ridiculous lengths of time and at the fact that he seemed to be the rope in a tug of war between Hornblower and Harkness. While being stuck between those two men was not an unpleasant place to be, it did not make life exactly smooth. He took refuge in the little remote control thingy and pressed lots of buttons at random.
“Glad to find you amusing yourself,” Horatio suddenly poked his head around the door, probably hoping to catch Jack unawares hovering at the sacred bedside.
“Oh this thing’s absolutely marvellous. Jack says it’s called a television and it makes a record of plays and lets you watch them when you will. Or something like that.”
Horatio was well aware of television. The first night he'd been in this wretched place, he'd been rather taken under the wing of a young chap called Ianto who was one of Jack's team. And by the look in a certain person's eye, a bit more than that, on the side. Hornblower had liked the man - he was quiet and appeared sensible and understated, qualities that seemed to be sorely lacking in the rest of the people he'd met here.
Unfortunately Ianto's attention had not been fully on the task in hand when they'd been introduced - he'd registered the Horatio part, but not the man's surname, being momentarily distracted by speculation as to whether Harkness looked nicer in a light blue shirt or a dark. But he fully understood the provenance of this naval officer and had thought it prudent to entertain him with this television contraption and something called a DVD.
At least Hornblower had appreciated the spectacle he was shown, it concerning a thrilling sea chase; he'd been very taken with the young lieutenant on display - there was a man who knew his duty - although this officer did seem over familiar with his captain. Said commander was a paragon of good judgement and Horatio heartily endorsed all his decisions, especially the flogging, although he was rather disappointed in the frigate leaving off the chase and re-visiting the Galapagos, ultimately successful though that had proved. At one point Ianto thought Hornblower was going to leap into the television and attempt to have at the French marauders, but he controlled himself, resorting merely to making the odd comment about the state of the wind in the sails and how it bore no relation to how the ship was truly progressing.
At the end he had been much elated. "And are there any more DVD's like this, Mr Jones?"
"Not many as good as this one. They did make a series of films for ITV a few years back about this naval officer, but it looked like it'd been filmed in my Auntie's washtub and the fight sequences were pretty wussy stuff. The hero now, right miserable bastard he was, though he had a friend that stuck up for him through thick and thin. Poor bloke - all the crap got dumped on him and matey drifted through it all untouched. It was called," Ianto's sudden recollection of the surname of the man he was sharing beer with was in time to let him pretend that the name of the hero of the film had escaped him. Luckily Horatio was never any the wiser, old Three-stripes-on-my-shoulder having appeared to spoil the fun.
“What have you been watching then, Archie? Anything interesting?”
“Oh there was a rather annoying thing in which two badly dressed women tried to persuade a rather nicely turned out lady to dress as shoddily as they did – I soon got fed up with that as I kept shouting out stop it you wenches but they couldn’t hear me. So I found something else – a nice bit of Shakespeare. It was a production of 'Much Ado about Nothing' which was very funny, especially as Benedict looked just like Captain Pellew and Beatrice was the image of Kitty Cobham. Ah, Jack!” Archie beamed as Harkness entered the room, looking particularly dapper today.
Horatio greeted him with his usual scowl – he had worked very hard these last few days not to let Jack and Archie be alone together and he was not now going to fall for any Mr Bush requires your assistance type lines.
“Archie, Horatio. How are we feeling?”
“Fit as a flea, Jack. Anxious to be up and at them, you know.”
Harkness looked thoughtful. “Mr Hornblower, The Doctor wishes you to help him with some adjustments to the TARDIS.” He spotted the belligerent look crossing his rival’s face and held up his hand. “And he asked me to remind you that he is still technically your commanding officer, so…”
If looks could have killed, even the immortal Jack would have breathed his last at that point. Horatio elaborately and meaningfully patted Kennedy’s hand and left the room, muttering. He didn’t like it one bit and he didn’t trust Harkness as far as the man’s rather garish blue braces might stretch, let alone to the side of Archie’s bed. He had a distinct and unpleasant remembrance of the two of them snogging when he had come round from his fit of unconsciousness (he would have it be known he had not fainted).
Kennedy had reassured him afterwards that this was merely something called 'artificial respiration', a means of getting air into the lungs of someone who needed it urgently. Jack had done it before when Archie had first been brought to Cardiff at death’s door and it had worked, had it not? Did Horatio want him just to be left to choke to death or should the proper treatment not be administered? There was no answer to that, although Horatio did mutter to himself that if it was just air being provided, did it really need a tongue to stir it with?
The awful thought that a third bout of artificial respiration might be being administered when he returned did not fill him with any sort of joy.
“He doesn’t trust me, does he? Lover boy?” Jack tipped his head towards the door.
“It’s all been very unsettling for him. How much do you know about us – our story?”
“Well, what historical records couldn’t provide – and they were pretty economical with the truth when it came to the personal stuff – William was able to come up with.”
“Then you know that he nearly lost me more than once – this latest episode has just served to make him even more protective.”
“But can’t he loosen up? Doesn’t he understand that things are different here and now – he can’t be hung for what he feels.”
Archie laughed ruefully. “I think in some strange way that makes it even worse. A great one for rules and regulations, Mister Hornblower, even when he’s breaking them. The conventions are so different in this century that it makes him rather uncomfortable.”
“He needs a bit of an adventure to occupy his mind.” Harkness sat down on the bed. “Has Ianto been to see you?”
“Indeed he has. Such a nice chap – brought me a lovely cup of coffee, to boot. He said that there might be something in the offing that you may need a hand with. I hope,” he added, adopting his best you can deny me nothing face, “that I won’t have to miss out on any jaunt that’s to be had.”
Harkness grinned. “You’re an integral part of the plan, Mr Kennedy.” He patted Archie’s hand – it was a pleasant thing to do and carried with it the bonus that if Hornblower were to walk back in the room he’d go spare. “Did Ianto give you any details of our mission?”
“No; he said he’d leave that in your capable hands.” Kennedy frowned. “And then he began to giggle and said that when I was feeling one hundred per cent fit I should ask you about stopwatches.”
Jack grinned, revealing a row of teeth of such perfection that Kennedy, used to the discoloured and distorted gnashers of his crewmates, could only gasp in astonishment again - as he had the first time these pearly wonders had been revealed. “I think that particular subject would give your Horatio a heart attack. Let’s keep to the business in hand. More’s the pity,” he added, risking another squeeze of Archie’s rather nice cheeks. The recipient of the affection didn’t mind – he’d decided that the twenty first century must be a very tactile time and all sorts of familiarities were acceptable.
“Now, tell me, Mr Kennedy – what do you know about Agincourt?”
***
“What I don’t understand,” Horatio butted into the briefing for the thirteenth time, “Is that, if you went to such trouble to ensure that we survived Kingston, why are you risking our lives again before we can even return there?”
“The ripples of time, Horatio.” Kennedy might not have the acumen of his friend when it came to either trigonometry or naval combat but he’d grasped the concept very quickly that a small change to history – a minor incident taking place in a different way – might have earth shattering repercussions in the future.
They were all sitting around a table in Jack’s office, Renown’s three officers, Harkness and Ianto. The Captain and The Doctor had explained very succinctly – aided by a range of evidence that Mr Jones had provided – that the same organisation that was trying to play merry hell with the defences against Napoleon’s invasion had got fed up with The Doctor interfering with their plans and had decided to dabble a bit further back in history, thereby eliminating the need completely of tinkering with life either side of 1800. They were believed to be targeting Henry the fifth, trying to snatch defeat from the jaws of his magnificent victories.
It was said that they would seek to capture the King on the very eve of St Crispin’s day, so that he would not be able to give his troops the rousing speech which had fired them up so much that they had won the day at Agincourt against overwhelming odds. Nor would he be able to provide the little touch of Harry in the night that would make such a difference to his troops’ morale. On such small things were battles won and lost.
The key thing seemed to be that William (for so they thought of him, the title of Doctor always making them think of Clive, which was not pleasant) was convinced that Archie bore a marked resemblance to Henry V and, should the kidnapping succeed, then they could put in what he referred to as their ringer and Kennedy could do the speechifying and cheering up the troops. Hopefully the real King could be restored before any actual fighting occurred, but Kennedy would be given a full briefing on the events of St Crispin's day as history had it recorded, which might not be exactly as Shakespeare depicted. Although the Bard's words were probably a lot better than the dialogue that was probably employed and Ianto had suggested that Kennedy had better bone up on it anyway, as it might be useful to spout.
Archie was intrigued by his alleged resemblance to the monarch. He knew that he was the spit and image of the Earl of Southampton and his mother had often asserted that some Kennedy ancestor must have had a horse with a lot of stamina and a kilt with the same propensities. But this new revelation would suggest that another one of his forebears might just have cuckolded Henry IV, which was rather too much for a man to take. He excused himself the rest of the briefing - which would concern the others' roles - and said that he'd take himself to lie down with a copy of the first folio.
As he understood it, Harkness and Bush would be in charge of rescuing the King, leaving Hornblower and Jones to act as what Jack called 'The Royal Minders'. They simply had to get Kennedy into the right place - which would be rather 'busking it', whatever that was - at the right time and make sure he said what he needed to and exited stage left to a standing ovation.
Horatio wasn't sure he understood all the figures of speech, although one of the things that had struck him so forcibly here was the continued use of naval expressions, most of them long disconnected from their naval origins. By and large the plan should work. The devil to pay if we don't get the coffees in on time. It made no bloody sense when no-one had the least idea what sailing by or large was or why you would ever need pitch hot for some satanic figure. It was one of the many things about the twenty first century that Horatio hated and he had no great hopes that the fifteenth would be any better.
***
It was raining - the sort of rain tipping down on Justinian the first day Hornblower and Archie had met. And now Henry's army stood about them in their makeshift camp, with little or no shelter to be had, peering out through the murk to see if they could spy the French lines and wondering if the opposition were having just as miserable a time of it. Outnumbered, their ranks diminished by sickness after Harfleur, the remnant becoming disheartened in the mud and the cold. It was the lack of spirit that the lads had to overcome - to get the vital Longbowmen into battle in the mood to fight, not to give in before the punch up commenced.
They'd arrived just in time to make an attempt to thwart The Master's kidnapping plans, but his accomplices had fought hard to overcome their efforts, leaving Harkness with a bloodied nose, a sight which made Hornblower much more cheerful. The King had been whisked out of his tent, although they were pleased to see that he hadn't actually been killed there and then. Perhaps his captors had felt that to assassinate the monarch would rouse the English army to such a fever pitch of vengeance - after all, the French would be automatically blamed - that it would scupper their plans of seeing the victory go to the Dauphin's men. Jack and William had set off to perform their rescue, leaving Kennedy to play his part and his two minders to keep him safe in the process.
"He has to do it, Horatio - I can understand what some of the Welshmen are saying even if you can't," Ianto's deep tones hissed in Horatio's ear. "They need a pep talk or tomorrow will go tits up."
Hornblower bridled at the crudeness. "But he'll catch his death of cold - I can't have him rescued from one encounter with mortality only to be driven into its arms again." His face was pale; he and Archie had fought side by side often enough but this was the first time he'd wished that his lover had been out of it all. Perhaps all the instances of seeing him lying in that prison hospital had made Horatio soft.
"Sometimes you have to take the risk - you can't always be the one doing the heroics, risking your life. Let him put himself in danger for once. Give him a bit of the limelight." Jones gently took Hornblower's hand. "I know what he means to you. But there's times when you have to risk the thing you love - for the sake of duty or whatever you want to call it." He suddenly grinned. "I sound like some idiot character out of that ITV drama; not a meaningful word coming out of my gob. Let's get the Kingmoving then."
The royal captain of this ruin'd band began his progress; through the mud - booted and cloaked against the elements - Archie Kennedy, alias King Henry the fifth, processed. He grew into the role, having had very little contact so far with anyone apart from some of his key officers. With them he had adopted a sort of serene, all knowing air of supreme confidence that dealt with his need not to open his mouth too much in case an appalling faux pas was committed. It had been surprisingly successful, particularly as the murky afternoon and ill-lit tent had allowed him some degree of hope that his impersonation would not be smoked.
Cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; well that was certainly true in Horatio's eyes. He admired the way that Archie spoke to all and sundry, carrying off his role with aplomb. It was the height of folly of course - they could be easily caught out at any moment, but Bush had assured him that he and Harkness did this sort of thing all the time, had been doing it for beyond donkeys' years. Flying by the seat of your pants, Mr Hornblower - there's nothing like it. Thinking on your feet - playing it by ear. Like fighting in a fleet battle where nothing is predictable and where each move has to be reassessed every minute. Put like that, Horatio could quite see the appeal. In the mud and cold and mutterings from the men about the bloody French ambushing them on their way home, he was not so convinced.
But one thing did strike him; that Henry himself must have been one hell of a leader - like some royal Pellew, he guessed - to have taken this despondent rabble and make them the victors at the cost of a relatively small butcher's bill. Yes, he knew that the Welsh longbowmen were said to be the crucial difference, but they had to feel like loosing their arrows. And now the responsibility for getting them into that frame of mind lay on his lover's shoulders, with him and Jones in support.
It was as if Ianto had been picking his brains. "Lots of men to get round, here, Horatio. Think we need to be putting a word or two in their ears. The Doctor says you're a bit of an inspirational leader yourself - what about giving a few pep talks of your own?"
"And who'll keep an eye on Mr Kennedy?"
"He'll be safe with me." Jones suddenly sounded more confident than he had back in Cardiff - this was a man who thrived under the duress of action. "You go and play your part."
Perhaps the men didn't pluck comfort from his looks, as they did with Kennedy, but they took it from his words. The sort of rallying calls he used for his gun crews when they went into action, the authoritative words he'd employed to keep his men together and not despondent after their return to Ferrol, he utilized them all. As Archie moved among the men, spreading his largess universal, like the sun, then Horatio followed suit, inspiring and motivating. If they were all going to hell in a handcart - another of Jones' colourful expressions - then he was going there fighting.