Deliver us from Evil by Tom Holland

could barely keep hold of the lantern. Slowly, he raised it above his head. Then he walked, one slop, two steps, three, into the dark.
    He began to feel himself sinking into earth, and looked about him. Soil was piled everywhere, rising away from him until it reached the cellar's roof. He stepped back instinctively. As he did so, the earth sucked on his legs, and he felt faint, as though it had also been sucking courage from his heart. He bent down. The earth was sticky to the touch, like dust on the verge of becoming mud. It stuck to his fingertips and, seeing it beneath his nails, Captain Foxe began to shudder. He could not explain his terror as he stared at the mounds of earth. They seemed like waves, rising above him, preparing to break, to submerge him and suck him into their depths. He rose to his feet, unable to bear the horror of the place; he had to leave. Then, from behind him, he heard a sudden clattering of metal on stone, and the light in the cellar was immediately dimmed. Captain Foxe turned round. Sergeant Everard's face was cast in shadow, but his eyes were gleaming with terror, bulging from their sockets as they had done before. Everard choked something unintelligible; then he turned, and fled. Captain Foxe heard the footsteps fade; he steeled himself not to flee as Everard had done. 'Faustus!' he called out angrily, so that the rage in his voice might disguise his own fear. 'This earth,' he demanded, 'what is it for?'
    'It is from Prague.' Faustus appeared beneath the arch. 'It contains the mortal dust of Sir Charles. He wished it to be transported and buried here, in atonement for his sins. See how we have obeyed his command, Captain. The cellar is filled. It cannot be used again.'
    Captain Foxe stared at the mounds of earth. His terror billowed and would not abate.
    'You asked where Sir Charles was.' Faustus gestured. 'His remains are mingled with the earth you see there.'
    Captain Foxe took a step forward. Again he bent down, and ran the soil through his hands.
    'What will you do, Captain? Will you dig up the soil and pan it, so that Sir Charles' dust may be anatomised, and exposed to your godly retribution?' Faustus laughed; he turned and, still laughing, walked across the cellar floor away from Captain Foxe. His footsteps faded until at length, there was silence.
    Captain Foxe stood alone. He breathed in deeply. The sweetness still seemed to linger in the air; and when he kicked at a mound of earth, he felt his terror rising inside him even more, for again it seemed to suck and feed on his soul. He paused, irresolute; then shuddered, and turned. As he hurried through the cellars, he did not look back.
    'For the true Mathematical Science, is that which measureth the invisible lines, and immortal beams, which can pass through clod, and turf; hill and dale. it was for this reason, it was accounted by all ancient priests the ch ie fest science; for it gave them power, both in their words and works.'
    Dr. John Dee, Mathematical Preface
    ‘ I
    he sense of horror hung dense over Captain Foxe's spirits for several days afterwards. Not until almost a week had passed did he prepare to inform Colonel Sexton of the failure of his investigation; but by then, although the horror still lingered, determination had replaced his initial despair. For Captain Foxe was not a man given to a sense of hopelessness; his faith in the workings of God, which he found expressed every day in the existence beside him of his beloved wife and son, fortified him also in his belief that evil could be conquered. For days he had been appealing to God, speaking in his prayers as he might speak to a friend, asking that the murderer be uncovered and stopped; and he believed that God, like any friend, would surely answer his requests.
    He set out, then, on the morning of his visit to Colonel Sexton, with his sense of hope undiminished. For part of the way, he was accompanied by Sir Henry, whose news, given as they rode together, only increased