him still exploring the vicinity of the church itself before setting off elsewhere, but the nave had been dark and empty and out here, although it was brighter - brilliant with sunshine, in fact –
the churchyard was equally deserted. There was no sign of the Doctor anywhere, and they gazed around in disappointment.
‘Now where?’ Turlough groaned.
‘He said he was going to the village,’ Tegan reminded him. Churchyards made her think of ghosts, and more than anything else just now, she wanted to get away from here.
‘Right, let’s go,’ Turlough agreed. ‘But watch out for those horsemen.’
Keeping a watchful eye and ear for soldiers and troopers, they headed for the lych-gate and the village, leaving the Doctor and Will behind them, in the vestry.
The Doctor had laid a hand on Will’s shoulder, for comfort. It had an instant effect, and soon Will was calmer and quieter, though still tense. His eyes, though, remained distant, brooding on those past events as the Doctor gently prodded him into recalling something which he would much rather forget.
‘Will ...’ The Doctor probed as warily as a brain surgeon, for he knew that he was exploring an area of fear so extreme that Will’s mind could be snapped by an unwise word. ‘Tell me what happened,’ he said softly. ‘How did it appear?’
Will Chandler allowed the memories to come back. As he did so he stared straight ahead and his eyes dilated.
‘There was Roundheads an’ Cavaliers,’ he murmured. ‘An’
they wur fightin’ in church! And thur was a wind comin’ –
such a wind!’ His breath sobbed and his face twitched violently. ‘Then Malus come from nowhere ...’
He looked at the Doctor with tears in his eyes.
‘What did it look like?’ The Doctor pointed to the tombstone among the stone flags and placed his finger on the image etched into its surface. ‘Did it look like this?’
Will looked at him, pleading to be released from this.
The Doctor knew he was falling apart inside, but he had to keep pressing him. ‘Did it, Will? Like this?’
With a supremely courageous effort of willpower, the youth nerved himself to look down where the Doctor’s finger pointed at a monstrously distorted, grotesque figure, like the carving on the church pulpit. He whimpered. He cried, ‘Yes!’ and shrank back, turning away his head so that he would not be able to see that terrifying face.
Now the tombstone surprised them both.
As Will turned away the Doctor leaned on it and pressed his fingers into the sculpted face; the stone reacted by moving beneath his hand. He jerked back in astonishment, as the stone swivelled on its axis and rose silently into the air.
Will, looking over his shoulder, drew in his breath sharply: there must be a limit, he thought, to the number of frights he could be expected to take.
‘It’s all right, Will,’ the Doctor soothed him. ‘It’s all right.’ He leaned forward over the hole revealed by the now vertical stone, and saw steps leading down into darkness.
‘That’s interesting,’ he murmured. He produced a torch and peered down into the pit. Then he wagged a finger at the reluctant and terrified youth.
‘Come on. Will,’ he said.
5
‘A Particularly Nasty Game’
The village was deserted. Every street and alley which Turlough and Tegan warily moved through in their search for the Doctor was quiet and still. The air was motionless –
even the breeze which had moved the leaves so gently earlier, seemed to have died away now. The sun beat down on their heads out of a sky empty of cloud, and blistered and melted the asphalt surfaces of the toads under their feet.
At the roadside a telephone kiosk glowed red; the white-painted walls of the thatched cottages dazzled their eyes in the strangely luminous atmosphere. It felt as though the world was burning up - and it seemed that hnman life in the village had already vapourised.
Both impressed and disturbed by the stillness, they came to an