Read Online Deliver us from Evil by Tom Holland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tom Holland
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reaching again into his pockets, a third and fourth. The drivers scrabbled after them; the horseman waited, then threw out a fifth purse, and lolled in his saddle as the drivers began to fight. At length, growing bored, he rode across and separated the brawlers with his riding crop. He gestured them away. The two drivers picked themselves up, and turned to withdraw. As they did so, Emily saw their faces for the first time. She recognised them at once. They were labourers from Woodton, Jonas Brockman and Elijah, his son. She had often seen them in her father's fields.
Emily pressed her face closer to the crack in the wall. As she did so, the horseman turned and sniffed the air. The two servants, reappearing from the Hall, also paused and seemed to breathe in. Their eyes, which before had seemed nothing but sockets, now began to gleam like cats' from the dark. They knew she was there ... they knew where she was. She saw the horseman smile. He was staring at her, where she Say hidden behind the wall. Emily was certain he would cross to her - she would be discovered, exposed. But the horseman did nothing. Instead, still smiling, he turned his back on her again. The servants resumed their work. The Brockmans, oblivious to her presence, were counting out their gold.
Emily jumped to her feet. She began to run as fast as she could. No one followed her and she reached the village without being stopped. But even there the terror remained, a scent from the Hall she could not wash away.
That night, they told each other everything. When they had finished, Robert hugged Emily as tightly as he could. Her warmth, and her softness against his skin comforted him. He kissed her as his mother always used to kiss him, when he had been frightened by dreams. It made him feel better. 'It will be all right,' he whispered. And he believed it. For some reason he did not understand, the touch of Emily's lips against his own had dissolved all his fears. 'It will be all right,' he repeated. Stroking the blonde curls of Emily's hair, he hugged her tighter. Then he kissed her again.
'Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one place;
for where we are is Hell.'
Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus
‘ I
he next morning, Captain Foxe climbed the front steps to Wolverton Hall. Behind him was Sergeant Everard and four militiamen. All six were armed; all carried lanterns. All six, more than fifteen years before, had been part of an investigation which had searched every room of the place.
Captain Foxe paused as he walked inside; then he left the rectangle of light cast by the open door, and entered the dark beyond it. He paused again, and called out loudly. His voice barely echoed, swallowed by the dampness he could feel against his skin. He swung his lantern around. Doorways waited to the left and to the right; behind him rose the stairway which his son had recently climbed. The rooms beyond were as thick with blackness as the air was with the damp.
Captain Foxe allocated his men to search various rooms - two upstairs, two beyond the doorway to the left of the hall. He watched them salute and set off; then he turned to Sergeant Everard. 'And we shall take the right.'
'Yes, sir.' Sergeant Everard paused, and tried to stare beyond the door. 'Is that not where the entrance to the cellars may be found?'
'As I recall it,' answered Captain Foxe, walking into the room beyond the hall. He did not meet his Sergeant's eye - but he did not need to. It was Everard who had been beside him fifteen years before. They both knew exactly where the cellars' entrance lay.
They began to make their way through the darkness of the house. Captain Foxe felt dread stirring like a worm in his guts, and he prayed, knowing that he was mortal and ripe to be food for worms of all kinds. Yet there was nothing to be found; no sign of anyone; and Captain Foxe could not explain his fear, for - picking his way across the rubble, brushing aside the clumps of slimy weeds - it seemed
Emily pressed her face closer to the crack in the wall. As she did so, the horseman turned and sniffed the air. The two servants, reappearing from the Hall, also paused and seemed to breathe in. Their eyes, which before had seemed nothing but sockets, now began to gleam like cats' from the dark. They knew she was there ... they knew where she was. She saw the horseman smile. He was staring at her, where she Say hidden behind the wall. Emily was certain he would cross to her - she would be discovered, exposed. But the horseman did nothing. Instead, still smiling, he turned his back on her again. The servants resumed their work. The Brockmans, oblivious to her presence, were counting out their gold.
Emily jumped to her feet. She began to run as fast as she could. No one followed her and she reached the village without being stopped. But even there the terror remained, a scent from the Hall she could not wash away.
That night, they told each other everything. When they had finished, Robert hugged Emily as tightly as he could. Her warmth, and her softness against his skin comforted him. He kissed her as his mother always used to kiss him, when he had been frightened by dreams. It made him feel better. 'It will be all right,' he whispered. And he believed it. For some reason he did not understand, the touch of Emily's lips against his own had dissolved all his fears. 'It will be all right,' he repeated. Stroking the blonde curls of Emily's hair, he hugged her tighter. Then he kissed her again.
'Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one place;
for where we are is Hell.'
Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus
‘ I
he next morning, Captain Foxe climbed the front steps to Wolverton Hall. Behind him was Sergeant Everard and four militiamen. All six were armed; all carried lanterns. All six, more than fifteen years before, had been part of an investigation which had searched every room of the place.
Captain Foxe paused as he walked inside; then he left the rectangle of light cast by the open door, and entered the dark beyond it. He paused again, and called out loudly. His voice barely echoed, swallowed by the dampness he could feel against his skin. He swung his lantern around. Doorways waited to the left and to the right; behind him rose the stairway which his son had recently climbed. The rooms beyond were as thick with blackness as the air was with the damp.
Captain Foxe allocated his men to search various rooms - two upstairs, two beyond the doorway to the left of the hall. He watched them salute and set off; then he turned to Sergeant Everard. 'And we shall take the right.'
'Yes, sir.' Sergeant Everard paused, and tried to stare beyond the door. 'Is that not where the entrance to the cellars may be found?'
'As I recall it,' answered Captain Foxe, walking into the room beyond the hall. He did not meet his Sergeant's eye - but he did not need to. It was Everard who had been beside him fifteen years before. They both knew exactly where the cellars' entrance lay.
They began to make their way through the darkness of the house. Captain Foxe felt dread stirring like a worm in his guts, and he prayed, knowing that he was mortal and ripe to be food for worms of all kinds. Yet there was nothing to be found; no sign of anyone; and Captain Foxe could not explain his fear, for - picking his way across the rubble, brushing aside the clumps of slimy weeds - it seemed
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