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When the Doctor visited the Forest Sauvage in the twelfth year of Uther Pendragon’s reign, he was greeted by Merlyn with fondness and Sir Ector, after hearing he was a Lord, called for him to sit at the high table. Wart’s first impression of him was favorable and, accurately, full of surprises for the Lord Doctor solemnly shook his hand and greeted him as Arthur. No one called Wart that and it took him a moment before he remembered that it was him that this funnily dressed man was talking to. Everything about his manner was serious but Wart could sense a layer of mischief underneath, as if this Lord Doctor was delighted to be there for reasons that no one except perhaps Merlyn knew about.
As the wine was dispensed throughout the evening, the Lord Doctor’s solemn exterior peeled off layer by layer until, as Wart watched with a thrill, he proclaimed himself a traveller through time and outrageously claimed to have fought with St George the Dragonslayer — but on the dragon’s side. It was a Christmas to remember and one that Wart, when he was older and known as Arthur and King, would recount only after several drinks of his own.
It all started when King Pellinore started explaining about the Questing Beast and the Lord Doctor leaned forward with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I’ve been a-questing too, you know,” he said. “But I was a-questing for a knight.”
“A black knight?” Sir Ector asked, seizing the opportunity to keep King Pellinore from monopolizing the table.
The Lord Doctor smiled. “Only if you’re a dragon.”
“You’re just as bad as him,” Sir Grummore grumbled, waving a drumstick in Merlyn’s direction. “Tell the story from the start, eh?”
“I’ll do better than that,” the Lord Doctor said as he stood up. “Lend me some of your fine players and we shall have us a show!”
“A play! A play!” The cry was taken up down the table and the players were shoved off the benches. The Lord Doctor — such an unconventional Lord, Wart thought — stepped up onto the table, picking a couple players out of the crowd.
“You, you shall be St George — he wasn’t a saint at the time but no disrespect to the dead, eh? You’re all dressed for it, you shall be the Sacaren, and someone grab a sheet for these fine fellows who’ll be the dragon.” Each of the men were helped up onto the table, dishes pushed hurriedly aside. Pellinore managed to knock over the entire bench as he tried to get out of the way and by the time everyone was helped back up, the players and the Lord Doctor were ready.
The tale was woven expertly with lots of exciting sword fighting using long loaves of bread. It was a topsy-turvy tale with the Lord Doctor and the dragon fighting St George and his Sacaren guide. The Lord Doctor managed to direct everyone at the same time as energetically joining in and Wart found himself caught up in the mysterious Arabian world. As the tale went on and the Lord Doctor got more excited, he would reference things that Wart had no clues as to what they were for but Merlyn helpfully translated on the side. There were things called refrigerators and fire extinguishers — “food coolers and fire put-outers,” Merlyn whispered to Wart — and the Lord Doctor’s beloved ship that he called Tardis. Wart had never known a Lord with a ship but by the time the story was nearly done, he was ready to become one himself.
The Lord Doctor sealed the enchantment by stopping the play right in the middle of the biggest battle yet with St George and the dragon fighting furiously as the Lord Doctor attempted to put a funny thing with a name longer than Wart could remember to rights with something else called a Sonic. With the other players frozen, the Lord Doctor make a great show of finding someone to be the hero. Wart’s heart jumped to his mouth as he waved his hand but stopped, seeing Kay reaching up as well. Of course Kay, as the older and true son, would be chosen. But the Lord Doctor looked at Wart with that special smile and reached down, pulling him onto the table. Wart scrambled up, nearly tumbling into Merlyn as he was pulled to his feet. He was given a long loaf of his own and together with the “dragon” went to whacking St George with such energy that the whole party was running down the tables through the long hall, the Lord Doctor laughingly calling for them to wait for him.
Wart hardly remembered how the play ended, just that he and the “dragon” chased St George and the Sacaren out of the hall as the Lord Doctor ran after them with his Sonic as if it was the real adventure. The foe successfully vanquished, the Lord Doctor shook Wart’s hand — such a peculiar custom, Wart didn’t know how to respond — before he was swept up by the two men that made up the dragon and paraded into the hall. And the whole time that the applause rang out, Wart could feel the Doctor’s smile upon him as if it was hiding a secret that couldn’t be told.
In the increasing chaos of the Christmas night party, the Wart lost track of the Lord Doctor who seemed to be socializing with everyone from King Pellinore and Sir Ector to Merlyn to the peasant children. It wasn’t until the crowds that weren’t already asleep on the tables were trooping home that Wart managed to wrangle a few minutes respite from old Nurse who was trying to get him and Kay into bed. Moving slower than he had earlier in the evening and feeling pleasantly full of food and drink, Wart made his way through the crowd towards where he had last seen the Lord Doctor. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to find that he was no longer there but a quiet word from Merlyn and Wart glanced out the window at the moonlit snow scene. An unfamiliar box stood in the courtyard, beckoning to Wart with its strangeness. Not even the overfed sedation could overcome his curiosity. As quick as the hart that Master Twyti wished he were off chasing, Wart scrambled out of the window and into the snow outside. He plowed through the yard until he reached the box. He was about to reach out and touch it when a sudden shyness overcame him and he stopped, his hand hovering next to the smooth wood.
“Like her?”
Wart spun around to see the Lord Doctor leaning against the corner of the box with a smile quirked across his face. “Her?” Wart asked.
“My Tardis,” the Lord Doctor replied, giving the box a fond pat. “My ship.”
“She… she’s a very funny ship,” the Wart replied doubtfully. “I didn’t think they were so… square.” This set the Lord Doctor off laughing and Wart had to smile, it was too nice of a laugh not to. He wasn’t sure what was so amusing but maybe the Lord Doctor had just had a bit too much to drink.
When the Lord Doctor finished laughing he regarded the Wart with a penetrating curiosity, his head tilted to one side as if he were Archimedes. “I’m glad I could meet you, Arthur,” he said at last.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Wart said politely. “Everyone calls me Wart.”
“Not where I’m from.”
This puzzled the Wart. “How do people know me where you’re from? Where are you from?”
The Lord Doctor straightened up at this, giving his ship a pat. “It’s a long story and I can’t spoil it for you,” he said. “I’d best be off, it’s a bit of a flight to where I’m going next.”
“Flight?” Wart asked dubiously, unsure of his ears. He thought this man was a Lord and a traveller through time, not a magician although perhaps they weren’t mutually exclusive.
“Flight,” the Lord Doctor agreed. “Step back, Arthur, I’d hate to harm England’s—“ he cut himself off suddenly. “Well, I’d hate to harm you.”
Wart was in agreement with that and took several large strides backwards.
“You’ll like this bit,” the Lord Doctor said with a wink before pushing back a door hidden in the wall of the box. A glow came out of it before the door shut and then the box shimmered and made a funny noise and then it wasn’t there at all.
Merlyn found Wart standing in the snow, rubbing his eyes. He gave the boy a shrewd look before saying, “If it helps, I find him overwhelming too.” Which was about as human as anything Wart ever heard Merlyn say, especially as he got older.