When the Doctor had suggested a trip to see a unique man, Steven had been sceptical. Despite his protestations, he wasn't all that keen to meet the only English Pope. He wasn't over-keen to meet any Pope, of any nation. But the Doctor was insistent, and if it took both their minds off the tragedy on Kembel, well, Steven decided tact might be the order of the day.

Surprisingly, they had made it to the correct century, and the correct planet. But they were in the wrong year and the wrong country. The TARDIS looked odd in the grounds of an English castle. When they had left it, they had been swiftly placed under arrest.

The Doctor had swiftly identified the castle as being the likely seat of the English Royal Court, and to his credit, he had weaselled for a chance to put their case before the King. The Doctor had got carried away, claiming that they had come specifically to meet the man at the top. They were given leave to make their case, and having convinced the King's aide, they were in. So, they were to be granted a private audience with no less a man than the King of England!

Who, as it should turn out, was called Stephen.

***

"We are in 1141 AD," the Doctor informed him, as they stood waiting in the corridor. "It so happens that Nicholas Brakespear does not ascend to the Papal crown for another thirteen years, and I don't really want to wait that long, and nor, I expect, do you. So, we'll meet the King, and then be on our way again. Does that sound acceptable to you, young man?"

"Fine. Any other bits of advice it would help to fill me in on?"

The Doctor looked around nervously. "It depends... this is a crucial year for the King, and the whole succession of the monarchy. If we are too soon, we shall make no bones. Too late, and we may become caught up in the path of history."

"Right. Forewarned is forearmed, then?"

"Indeed."

***

They entered the Royal room, and Steven was able to get his first look at his namesake.

King Stephen was a middling sort. Under six foot, and with signs that a slim physique was starting to slide. He had a scrappy brown hairstyle, and a shifty face. Steven didn't fancy having to tackle the man; he looked as if he would break the rules for the slightest advantage.

"Your Majesty, may my colleague and I say how gratified we are to be permitted into your gracious company. This must be a busy time for you."

The King shook the Doctor's hand, and Steven's, and then promptly sat back down again, as if the small physical exertion had been too great a strain.

"I don't suppose you have brought news of my wretched cousin?"

Steven looked hopefully at the Doctor, and from his somewhat shifty reply, he realised that this cousin must be a bigger problem than he would have thought.

"Well, your Majesty, her ambitions are of little secret, are they? She plots to steal what she believes to be hers."

The King bared his teeth. "If I could be rid of the damned witch, all my lands I would gladly cede! The weight of office is far greater than anyone would think. I would hand over to anyone... anyone but her. She has been a thorn in my side for far too long."

Steven wondered whether he should speak at all, given the fact that he was not clued up at all on what was going on. "Is she that great a threat to you? Surely you are the King, could you not, er, imprison her, perhaps?"

The King peered at him, and the Doctor quickly interjected. "Would that it were that simple, of course. Your Majesty, I apologise for my colleague's behaviour, he is not fully educated about the ways of the state." He then addressed Steven directly, "Matilda has, er, rather, it is said that Matilda claims to have as great as, if not greater than, a body of support, as does the King himself. Some might even suggest she has a better claim to the throne. Were she to be imprisoned, she could easily become a more powerful symbol of unrest. A martyr, even."

Steven nodded. "Ah, I see. That's reasonable. It does leave you powerless, though, doesn't it?"

The Doctor sighed at his young friend's lack of tact. "These are dangerous times, young man." The way he said 'young man' dropped the hint to Steven that he was getting out of order, and should be more careful about what he was saying.

Before the conversation could continue, the King stood up, and walked over to a table, where a large jug stood near three goblets.

"You will have had a long and arduous journey, gentlemen. You'll take a drink, I trust?"

The Doctor looked at Steven, and he realised that this was going to be his chance to mend fences. "Your Majesty, we would both be honoured to join the King in a toast."

The Doctor sighed, but walked over to the table, nearly dragging Steven with him. He accepted the goblet, passing the other to Steven. "Your Majesty, I wonder if you would permit me the honour of proposing this toast?"

Wearily, the King nodded. Clearly, he appeared to be tired from the pouring of the libation, and grateful for any offer for shared power, even for so small a task.

The Doctor raised his glass. "I propose a toast to the King of England! Long may he rule, and a curse on all his enemies!"

That brought a smile back to the King. "An excellent toast!" Then he drank his offering.

The Doctor sniffed the contents, exclaimed with delight, "Mead!", then took a hearty swig.

Steven decided that it wouldn't hurt to show a little accord, and knocked the drink back, although he took great pains to take two goes at it, for he wondered whether it was a breach of etiquette to match the King at his drinking.

As he placed his goblet back on the table, there was a mighty knock at the door.

"Enter!" called the King.

It was the Earl of Hereford, and his beetroot face suggested either he was exhausted from a fast run, embarrassed, or angry.

"We have intruders in the grounds!"

The Doctor gave Steven a warning look, and both turned slyly to the King. He seemed not to think it was them, though.

"What do you mean?"

"She's on her way here! Her army has been seen marching towards your palace!"

***

Matilda was indeed at the forefront of her army.

She stood, armed and bold, looking down at the castle where her wretch of a brother was skulking. He was going to suffer for treating her so badly, and she was going to take all that he considered precious, and make it her own.

She turned to her loyal Commander, who ran the army that she was nominal leader of. "Prepare to attack in fifteen minutes."

He nodded, and began to spread the word between the next rank of soldiers, who would in turn pass the message on and on. Within those fifteen minutes, the whole army would be aware of the order.

Matilda looked down at the castle, imagining for a moment that it was just a small toy in the palm of her hand. Then she closed that hand into a fist, and she laughed.

***

The Doctor stared over the King's shoulder. "It is unusual that she should be at the lead of her army," he commented.

"It's an old confidence trick," muttered Steven. "It creates a greater morale among followers if the person in charge is visible at the front. They reason that if he or she is so willing to lead, then they are just as willing to follow."

"What the Devil am I going to do?" The King staggered back to his seat. He looked almost shattered.

Steven saw that this would be a good chance to get information out of the Doctor. "Well," he whispered, assuming the King couldn't hear, "what are we going to do?"

The Doctor seemed to still be staring at the army on the horizon. "This could be a very tricky situation," he stage-whispered. "I was afraid of this happening."

"You mean, you expected this? You knew this was going to happen?"

"Young man, I am afraid that we will be caught up in events here. I could not have known that Matilda would be launching an attack on the King today! But we must not become prisoners of hers."

Steven was about to ask if he was certain that Matilda was going to win this day anyway, when the King seemed to revive.

"I must get a message to my guards. We must defend this castle!"

"Quite right," enthused the Doctor. "Come, we have to inform the others."

"Are you sure, Doctor?"

The King suddenly stopped, and almost did a double-take. "You are a physician?"

The Doctor frowned at Steven, before reforming his expression into one of concern. "Your Majesty, I have only the limited knowledge of my fellow Brothers to call on. I can see your Majesty is requiring some assistance, but I fear I might do more harm than good. But, I would recommend you should consume more honey. That will quell the turmoil in your chest."

Steven could scarcely believe the transformation which came over the King. With one sudden panacea suggested, he seemed to completely reinvigorate himself. The stoop in his back faded, and he walked around the room with a purpose.

The chief courtier ran in again. "Your Majesty, she is ready for assault!"

The King smiled, and the courtier seemed taken aback by it as well. "Do not fear, we shall be victorious. Tell all the guards and generals to prepare the defences of this estate - we shall not fall to this blasted usurper scoundrel! Oh, and tell the cook I want a bowl of honey brought to my room immediately."

The courtier nodded, slightly perplexed by the last of the King's orders, and left again.

"Ah, I feel better already. You must not diminish your views, Doctor, I feel already that you have done me more good than any number of quacks I have suffered with over time."

"Thank you, your Majesty. I wonder whether my colleague and I might be permitted to go out into the fray, and help with the defence of your kingdom?"

The King seemed slightly disappointed. But he nodded. "I must thank you for making this visit, it may well be the opportunity to protect this land for all time."

With modest but definite haste, the Doctor and Steven left the room.

***

Matilda sat on the back of a horse, on a small mound of earth. Her black steed was visible to all her troops, as they massed, eager and expectant of the final swoop.

"The King is to be left to me! You may deal with his rabble as you see fit! My men!" A pause, as the moment intensified.

"Attack!"

***

"We're not really going to help, are we, Doctor?"

"My goodness me, of course we're not. Come, we must reach the Ship, or else the consequences will be grave, very grave, I must say."

They had landed at the rear of the castle, and so when they emerged into the open air, the main noise was muted, as Matilda had chosen the maximum psychological status of attacking from the front.

There were men milling around, trying to ready defences, but the Doctor and Steven kept out of their path. They slid into the blue box, and hoped no-one would notice its exit.

***

Later, Queen-in-waiting Matilda strode into her brother's chamber, and found him grovelled on the floor, head over a bowl of honey.

He looked up at her with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"So, you still think you can be King of these lands, do you? You are not fit to even be a clown!"

She grabbed the back of his neck, and hauled him to his feet. She still towered over him slightly.

"Please... please... don't kill me!" His voice had descended to the whine of an infant told his game was over.

She smiled, "I will not kill you, cousin. Weakling though you are, shame to my bloodline! No, you will live, to suffer the indignity of seeing your country in my hands."

She repeated the gesture of closing her hand into a fist, and he got the message. He looked at her, aghast. Then he started to cry.

Conversely, his tears made Matilda start to laugh.

***

"So, come on, Doctor, we're well away from there now."

The Doctor studied the instruments, as if he were some demented mechanic trying to cope with the intricacies of a carburettor.

"Well, well, where to begin? Stephen was basically a good man. He was also, as I think you saw, something of a hypo... hypochon... a sick man. The honey remedy was a pure guess. The chest was a common location of weakness in the days before Darwin, and honey was a convenient local cure-all. I could hardly tell him to take more sugar when the plantation groves are centuries away!"

"But he still lost the battle?"

"Oh yes. That day, anyway. Sad, really, the poor man let delusion take over his mind. Not the greatest man to be King. His cousin was more bellicose, more capable of leading a war. She took her brother prisoner, and he languished in a French cell for six months. Whilst he was inside, she fought to topple his forces, and be recognised as the Monarch of all England."

"I must say, all this has been new to me. I didn't even know there had been a King Stephen, let alone a Queen Matilda."

The Doctor smiled at his companion. "Ah-ha, well, that's the strange thing. Matilda never really did achieve her wish. Stephen's men captured one of her key allies, whom they then bargained to exchange for Stephen. He managed to struggle on as King for another thirteen years. The closest she ever got to the Crown was for him to recognise her son Henry as Stephen's successor, and he then started a new dynasty."

Steven nodded, satisfied that the story was finished. "So, are we still going to see this fellow Brakespear, then?"

"No, not now. I think we were rather lucky there to escape with our lives. No, I think we should try somewhere else."