Time Grabber - March 2
March 2, 1649:
(From the Journal of John Stowe)
Lo! Satan is upon us and his devils do surround us. Trusting in the Lord, however, we have no fear of them.
Early this morning we awoke to find the enchantment still strong about us. Whereupon we took counsel together concerning our conduct in this strait. After several hours of discussion, it was decided that we could not necessarily be considered remiss in our military duties for not pushing on to Carlisle when bound and held by devils. This settled, it remained only to decide on our course of conduct towards these imps of Satan, and Sergeant Flail-of-the-Lord hath determined this by ordering that all present be industrious in prayer and considering of the good works of the Lord.
So it fell out that about the third or fourth hour after sunrise when we were engaged in singing that hymn of sweet comfort—
Lo! We shall crush His enemies
And drown them in their blood—
that a fat, balding devil of middle age, somewhat wrapped and entwined in a sheet of bed linen approached the outer grating of our cell and did speak with us.
At first we were slow in understanding; but as it did happen that by good chance I had had some teaching in my youth in papist ways, it was not long before I realized that this devil was speaking a particularly barbarous and unnatural form of latin; and, on my conveying this information to Sergeant Flail-of-the-Lord, it was decided that I should speak with the devil for all of us.
I began by abjuring him to turn from the ways of the devil and cast himself upon the mercy of the Lord. But, so imperfect were the creature's wits and so inadequate his grasp of the tongue in which we conversed that he failed to grasp my meaning. Whereupon, I demanded of him by what right he held us and he did name several devils with Romish names and, producing several objects of strange manufacture, seemed to call on us for some kind of action.
At this point, Sergeant Flail-of-the-Lord interrupted to order me that I draw the devil out in conversation and learn whatsoever I could, that the knowledge might be a means to breaking the enchantment. Therefore, I did show interest and beseeched the devil to further explain himself.
Whereupon he did so. And it was apparent immediately that our wise Sergeant, praise the Lord, had correctly judged the state in which we were held. For after a great deal of words which I had some trouble interpreting, it became apparent that this spawn of the Devil, this creature of Satan was endeavoring by means of foul enticements and false promises of release from our enchantment, to cozen us into bowing down to graven images.
No sooner had I understood this, than I was filled with the wrath of the Lord, and, feeling His hand upon me, spoke words of fire to the lost being before me. I observed that he quailed, although odd as it seems, some of our troop claim to have noticed a slight trace of satisfaction upon his hellish visage. Whereupon he closed the interview with a question.
"Are you all Christians?" he demanded of me.
I answered, "Yes," and, rubbing his hands together with an expression of glee he hurried off.
I related all this to my comrades and the Sergeant. The Sergeant then advised us that we continue as we had before, saying that no doubt we were not alone at the mercy of the Devil, but that were being somewhat tested by the Lord, and as long as our faith in Him remained steadfast, no harm could surely come from this.
So hath the day past, very decently in praying and godly conversation. From scraps of conversation I have overheard from neighboring cells it becometh apparent that tomorrow we are to be thrown into the 'Arena,' which I take to be a devilish word for the pit. So be it. We abide the issue, all of us, with firm faith and quiet hearts. Amen.
March 2, 2631:
Dear Diary:
What a vexatious group! What on earth shall I do? These Romans seem to be pining away and losing interest in my tests, taking them lackadaisically, if at all. I'm sure I don't know what's wrong. I've given them the most attractive apparatus I can find, different colored little balls and pegs and objects, and brightly-lit shadow cards to study. I've piped all sorts of cheerful music into the basement and given them authentic Roman diets of the period and all they wanted to eat. They just don't seem to have any interest. I can't imagine what's wrong.
March 2, 2631:
(From the notebook of Croton Myers)
11:02 P.M.:—
Dial settings A-26.24, B-5.1, C-2.73779 Calibration check, Vernier check. (Run 73) Found it. Year 65, our calendar, Feb. 22, 10:15 P.M. (approx). Sixteen individuals. Time scar to present date and year. Hole plugged on or about Feb. 27. Structure therefore safe middle late Roman era, disregarding minor time-thread damage which runs out anyway. However—took general check on hunch, and hunch confirmed. There's another hole even closer to our time. I can tell by the strains on the major time-threads. No time to trace it down now. We've got about five hours worth of elasticity in the present time-fabric before there'll be (a) a time collapse, or (b) an attempt by the fabric to rearrange itself to relieve the strain. Even the rearrangement could do for us. This second hole's too close to our own period.
I'm no Sherlock, but to me it adds up to only one answer—Bugsomer. I'm going over and see if I can force the information out of him.
The damn fool!
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