Date: Wed, 22 Apr 2009 10:22:54 +0000 From: Jo Vincent Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's: Sequel 13 Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's A Sequel by Joel Seq 13: Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mark Henry Foster The story-teller: Pennefather Organ Scholar Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend. At College of Law. Francis Michael Foster Alias Toad/Gobbo Mark's younger brother Shelley Price-Williams Tris's sister Adam Benjamin Carr Mark's cousin: chunky and cheeky with it Ivo Richie Carr Ditto, as his twin, safely married diplomat Sophia Carr Their mother in Dorset George Carr Their father: A farmer Nathaniel Tempest Adam's boyfriend: a church historian Raphael Pack An Aussie blond bombshell Wednesday: Lunchtime and Later As I walked into College my mobile jangled the Bachian phrase. It was Dad. More congratulations and the news of a family gathering on Saturday evening. I didn't tell him I would miss the Wet Tee-Shirt Competition at the Club because of that but said I was looking forward to being home even for a couple of days. He said there were at least three of Granddad Matteoli's marked-up opera scores in a cupboard somewhere, perhaps the opera house in Strelzen would like a couple of them for their archives. I also didn't tell him I was to explore the lower depths of the Michaelhouse Library in the morning, just that I was meeting James Tanner for further instruction. Of course, the College was in a ferment. There were groups of excited students, mostly with open bottles, parading around the quadrangle. Even on a day like this no one ventured onto the hallowed turf. I was back-slapped and handshaken by numerous happy souls and even kissed by at least three rather drunk young ladies and, I guessed, with a little more drink inside them, I might have been bussed by a couple of lusty but befuddled lads who clutched me to their manly bosoms. I escaped further friendly assaults by retreating to my set and flopping down thankfully in the easy chair in the main room. I stared. Entwined on the sofa opposite were two shirtless figures. Oliver and Zack! He'd obviously skipped school and I'd interrupted what was going to be some joyous celebration in an overtly sexual manner. My entry must have registered as they both turned and, without unlinking arms, flung themselves on me smothering me with kisses. "Mark! Wonderful!" came from a now completely uninhibited Zack. He was almost delirious and I knew it wasn't from the effects of strong drink. All I got from Oliver was the most lingering kiss, tongue and all. I responded with enthusiasm but I knew they should be celebrating just together. I managed to extricate my face from their attentions. "OK! Stop it! Go to bed and I promise there will be no disturbance." Two starry-eyed creatures let me go. Both held out hands. "You, too!" said Oliver. I shook my head. As much as I wanted to feel their naked bodies sensually enmeshed with mine I knew I must not. "No," I said and held their hands, "It's your celebration. Go!" I let go and more or less shooed them out towards the bedroom. I closed the bedroom door and my last sight was of two ecstatic young men ready for perfect love-making. I sat and relaxed and texted as many of the choir as I could inviting them for a celebratory drink at six. I got up and stuck post-it notes on the rest of the doors of the stairway and realised I was hungry. Half past one. Just time to snatch a quick something in Hall - if the place was still standing! I ran the gauntlet of a still carousing horde and found Hall was functioning as usual and there was quite a crowd feeding, chattering, laughing and being watched benignly by a clutch of dons on High Table. Curt was in charge of the Servery. He had a golden paper crown on his head and several lipstick smears on his cheeky face. His companions were Ginge and the two new lads and there was whistling from the kitchen so I knew at least Cheffie was in a good mood. The other lads were also wearing coloured hats perched on their white caps and the two newbies looked suitably bemused as they doled out the veggies and salads to a patiently slowly moving queue. My turn came. Curt was very formal. "Congratulations, Mr Foster, Sir." The facade cracked. "Oooooh, give us a kiss!" This in a not very low whisper. Several of the queue in front looked over in his direction and there were sniggers from the ones behind me. The two in front of me were big lads, probably six feet eight each and I recognised them as being basketball team-mates of Tris last year. Without a word they put down their plates, bent over the not very wide serving table and without any seeming effort picked up Curt and held him horizontally. He was cackling and waving the serving spoon he was holding. One put his head down, this was the big coloured lad, and planted a big sloppy kiss on him. Curt's crown fell off and as I bent to retrieve it his face reached mine. Nothing for it. I emulated Oliver and Zack and gave him a real smacker and forced my tongue into his not unwilling mouth. It didn't last long as Curt was ferried along the line and then taken over to the seated throng and passed along at least three lines of chortling happy eaters. Of course, the noise was tremendous. Cheers, as the most butch plonked their sticky lips on his. More cheers as a ravishing blond, a big lad, caressed his face before probing his open mouth with a long pink tongue. Wow! I fantasised what that tongue could do to me and realised I'd better keep lascivious thoughts to a minimum as the earlier sight of Oliver and Zack, plus the joyous progress of Curt, were fuelling my own libidinous desires. The extra clamour had attracted attention. Cheffie and the second chef appeared at the Servery door. "What the Hell!" a bewildered Cheffie uttered looking at the depleted ranks of his servers. "I'll kill the little bastard! Where is he?" He waved the large ladle he was carrying. As I was directly in line I pointed. The carrying pair were manoeuvring an unprotesting Curt past a gaggle of rather excited female students all intent on ravishing him but, no doubt, wishing the two muscular young men were being offered instead. I saw Fiona amongst them. Denizens of the Bitch Niche, I guessed. Cheffie shook his head. "I might have known. Bloody students!" He let out a stentorian roar. "Bring that boy back! He's precious!" I wasn't quite certain if that was a suitable word in this company. An even greater roar went up and the pair struggled to bring him back to the table without their own clothing being torn off by clutching hands. As each of them was about a foot taller than Cheffie he could hardly do anything but more or less silently receive a slobbered over, face-smeared, eyes closed in some form of ecstasy, dishevelled bundle, as he was dropped unceremoniously behind the Servery table. "Thank you for bringing him back!" The words dripped almost venomously from Cheffie's lips. I didn't know who would feel the coming wrath. Curt to be belaboured with the ladle? The two lads with extra strong laxatives dropped into their chocolate sauce? "You!" He addressed the now standing grinning Curt, mopping his face with the cloth usually tucked into his apron. "You just get back to work. There's a queue!" Cheffie's show of anger had evaporated. The second chef was laughing quite openly. I wondered if that would incense Cheffie, but no, he just whacked Curt's backside, quite gently, with the ladle and the pair went back into the kitchen. Cheffie must be mellowing! Curt, irrepressible as ever, straightened his white jacket and hat, "Thank you, gentlemen, for that most delightful interlude. If I were a student I might consider trying for the basketball team next year. I'm a bit short but I could be lifted up to get the ball in." That smile - directed straight at the towering pair - was the equivalent of 'Come up to see me some time!'. "Especially if you did it." Two, I assumed, straight lads were smitten. They were speechless. They had goofy smiles. Their day had been made as they picked up their discarded plates - I noted the Salmon and Broccoli quiche on each. Curt picked up his spatula. "A little more?" The tone was quite seductive. Two languorous nods and a second substantial slice was placed against the first. As they moved on I got the benefit of the smile. He was also having a ball. "The same?" "Just one piece, please," I managed to say without laughing. I moved on to the second of the newbies who was dishing out the salads. "A selection of your choosing," I said. He looked up. Yes, he was quite a handsome lad now tidied up. He smiled as well. He set about his task and arranged the various bits and pieces quite artistically. "Getting used to us?" I asked. The smile again and his eyes crinkled up. He nodded. I moved on to the display of cold sweets and chose a fruit fool and looked around for a space. Nothing for it. I sat next to the second of the tall basketball players. "You played last year when my friend Tris Price-Williams was here," I said as I cut off a piece of the quiche ready to devour. "Yeah, just finished my second year. I'm Freddie Curtis..." He looked over the table at his team mate. "...This is Reggie English, except he's American." Reggie gave him the Yankie equivalent of the Churchill sign, a raised finger. "No need to be rude," said Freddie with a laugh. As he said this a gaggle near us on each side of the table got up and left having finished eating. Several comments were made about getting a few beers in to celebrate and they all lumbered off. This left us virtually alone at the end of the table. Freddie looked around and then turned to me. "Can I ask? Tris and you were very friendly?" The implication was quite clear. Tris and I hadn't broadcast our commitment to each other, but it was generally known. "Yes," I said, "More than friends. We shall live together once we set ourselves up this summer." Reggie smiled. "We thought so." He looked at Freddie sitting next to me. I sensed a nod. "We intend too as well." Freddie took over. "It's a bit difficult," he said with a chuckle, "When you're much taller than average girls just don't want to know. Reggie's six nine and I'm six eight and really both of us gave up while still at school." Reggie tossed his head. "And I decided at sixteen I might prefer boys rather than girls and when I met him we just clicked." "Too much hassle with the females so I succumbed to his wiles." Freddie laughed. "I wasn't certain and it was an easy route out." I was intrigued. "So, neither of you are one hundred per cent?" They both laughed. "Possibly seventy-five," Freddie said. "We just like being together as well. Same interests. Both reading History, basketball, we're cinema mad, we both do photography and we like the same sort of music." "Even your sort of music." Reggie chimed in. "Came to your recital." He smiled. "I could see what Tris saw in you then!" Fascinating. I just wondered how many lads would have the courage to take such a step? I remembered what Jack's father had found in his research - several dimensions including maleness, gayness, whatever. They seemed a friendly pair. I had had a twinge when Freddie had first asked. Was that a prelude for a bit of homophobia? No, the lads had come to terms with how they felt. Funny, the height thing. "Are you celebrating tonight?" I asked, wondering if their results were OK. "Bit strapped for cash," Freddie said, "Neither of us drink much. A quiet night in, a couple of beers and just be thankful we'll be here next year. Both got two one's." "Tell you what," I said, warming to the pair, "There's a crowd of us supping a bit of champers at six in my set. Would you like to join a few of us later for dinner? It's Charles Fane-Stuart's invite but I can add to it. Tris won't be there but I'm sure he'd have welcomed a couple of his team-mates." Oh, I wondered how that all sounded? Both the lads 'strapped for cash' and here was I about to open a cornucopia of richness. They were looking at each other - undecided I assumed. Any answer would have to be postponed. I was tapped on the shoulder. It was Curt. "Excuse me, Sirs," he said very formally, then to me, "Mr Fane-Stuart has asked Cheffie to prepare a selection of his usual bonnes-bouches to be delivered to your set at five thirty. For twenty-four he said. Is that correct and will you be there when we bring them over?" He might have sounded very formal but the little demon was pressing his thigh against my back out of sight of any watchers. At the end of each sentence he moved his thigh slightly which gave me a slight shiver. Oh, God, I was horny and missing Tris! I turned to face him as he gave me a final nudge. "Thank you. Tell Cheffie I will be there at five thirty and if you and your three pals, plus Logan, like to stay you can join in." "Thanks, but we can't stay too long. There's a special dinner in the Dining Room and I'm in charge with Cheffie." He went off at his usual quick pace. I turned to Freddie. "That settles it. Six o'clock, my set, bottom of Stair F, then the Arundel at seven thirty. Neat not gaudy!" The look Reggie gave Freddie was pure joy. I could see what Freddie saw in the good- looking lad. "Can we really?" Freddie said. "I know Charles. My cousin Alistair helped do those paintings on the wall...," He snickered. "....so I've seen Charles at their house. Mum always says he's a bit odd but he got us good rooms in the Outhouses." I wasn't going to be drawn into an assessment of Charles! "You share?" The Outhouses consisted of old Victorian houses now divided up into student accommodation. Freddie nodded. "Living singly in College is too expensive so we share everything." "Even ourselves," said Reggie and I swear he went a darker shade through blushing. Freddie tried to cover that by changing the subject! "That lad.... ...He's....?" The query was unfinished. "Yes," I said. "Tris and I have been keeping a brotherly eye on him. He's a good lad and he's got a permanent boyfriend now." I didn't enlarge on that. They would see Logan this evening. We had been eating steadily through all this and had finished all on our main course and pudding plates. "Must go," I said, "I've got to find Charles and sort out this evening. Don't forget. Six o'clock!" So two more questing souls. I wondered if they would enjoy the Club? Money problems? Entry fees? Drinks? I suppose I had been cushioned by Uncle Francesco's generosity mainly. There was often an envelope with a fifty euro or a twenty pound note in it. My stash of euros would be useful in Rothenia as I had read they were using both krones and euros after the King was installed. Now to find Charles as I wasn't going to disturb Oliver and Zack! Mrs Chalfont-Meade was buffing her fingernails when I tapped on the door to the Bursar's suite of offices. She guessed who I wanted and pointed to the door with 'Charles Fane- Stuart Assistant Bursar' prominently displayed on it. I'd noted before that the Bursar's own door had nothing on it. I poked my head round the half-open door. There was Charles looking intently at what looked like a set of architect's drawings. He looked up. "Mark, my precious one, a thousand congratulations once more. Come in!" I passed him as he went to the door. "Mrs Chalfont-Meade, may I crave two cups of your inestimable coffee, please. Black for me as usual and I know Mark takes a little milk." I had seen the up- market coffee machine behind Mrs C-M's desk on each occasion I had been a visitor. I always assumed it was ever ready to counteract the Bursar's alcoholic intake. Charles carried in two equally rather up-market cups and saucers on a tray. I closed the door behind him. "Let me put away these plans," he waved at the pile on his desk after pushing a heap of paper aside with the tray, "I have to make a decision on the priorities of the Madingley Road site. But, you will want to know about arrangements for tonight and for your trip abroad." I nodded. No good saying anything when Charles was in full flow. "First things first. The boys will deliver sufficient small delights to satisfy the taste-buds of even the most discerning of our guests. Contrary to what dear Curt may have said the array is to be prepared mainly by Manuel, our new second chef. There is a rather special dinner tonight and Cheffie is in charge of that with young Curt as his assistant. One must keep the catering staff happy." His hands did their usual rotation. "I have asked Sean and Liam to wait on us. I have promised them the opportunity to taste extra servings from the grand repast." "The grand repast?" I asked and sipped the rather good coffee. "A College tradition. We have always entertained the examiners from other colleges who monitor the outpourings of our candidates for the degree examinations. There is no record of any refusals which is attributed to the College Amontillado which is always served." "St Mark's Fire?" He shook his head. "Reserved for those who examine for higher degrees." He wanted to return to matters at hand. "Will provisions for twenty-four be sufficient?" "I've invited all the choir but don't expect all to appear, and there's about a dozen more." "No problem. We also have sufficient champagne." A statement not query. I didn't say I'd got four more bottles. In case! "And the Arundel?" I went through the list. Sixteen I thought. I explained about the two lads. Charles was not put out. "Young Freddie has been rather neglected, I'm afraid. His mother has a rather sharp tongue and was rather uncomplimentary some time ago about one of Mother's escorts to Covent Garden who had never seen an opera before and drank rather more than was advisable during the intervals. I have endeavoured to keep the peace and poor Freddie has had to make do with a reduced income though I did mention his plight to Mother. His mother is divorced and really no wonder but I have always found Frederick to be most amiable even for one so tall." "I don't think a reduction in his height would make him less amiable," I said, thinking that Charles didn't need any lessons in sharpness of tongue, "Anyway, he has found a soul-mate and they seem very happy together." "I am glad of that. I noticed his attachment to young Mister English some time ago and I will endeavour to ease their path next year. There is a plan for certain funds to be used to reduce fees in particular cases." He looked at me quite levelly. "I must ask you not to inform others but I have also asked Mr Fullerton for his opinion on shared accommodation of the type you raised. He will examine any precedents and conditions of Wills and Statutes and let me know before the new term." I didn't dare ask if the Bursar was involved. Charles had his own agenda and I guessed the Bursar was happy to give him enough rope... No, I didn't mean that nastily, just that Charles' judgements sometimes were a bit hasty. "Now," he said, picking up a folder, "I have arranged for two flights from Stansted to Hofbau for Tuesday and there are electronic tickets for the train to Strelzen. All you need do is present your passport with the reference number on the form at the airport and show the other form at the station. I have also included a map of the city and also of the countryside around. I received a cheque which will cover more than the initial expenses from Mr Price-Williams for Tristan and there is no need to hire transport to the airport as I will drive you there." "Charles! That's much too generous," I said. I used 'generous' but was rather perturbed about the level of his driving skills. Hands were waved. "The flight is at eleven-thirty and if we leave here at eight thirty you will have plenty of time for checking in and passing through security. Oh, I forgot. Ivo will be meeting you at the Kung Rodolf Bahnhof in Strelzen so phone him when on the train. The University has arranged for a double room in a small good hotel within walking distance of the Mathematics Faculty. All details are in here." He handed me the folder and looked past me at the closed door and lowered his voice. "At least Mrs Chalfont-Meade does have some skills which come from organising her husband's frequent golfing trips in rather strange locations." I mentally thought I would go through the arrangements with a toothcomb. Not that I didn't trust Mrs C-M... But! I thanked Charles and took the empty cups out leaving him immediately immersed in his perusal of the building plans. Mrs C-M had finished her nails and was now eyeing herself in a small mirror and dabbing a powder puff on the lowest of her multiple chins. "This weather," she said wearily, "It's so hot and I need to keep the ravages of time at bay constantly." I put the cups down and held the folder up. "Thank you for preparing all this," I said wondering when she did manage to do any visible office work. "Quite easy," she said, "My daughter did it all for me on the Internet last night. She's quite a whizz with the computer. She's Dr Al-Hamed's brother's secretary. Such a gentleman." She smiled sweetly, closed the powder compact and rummaged in her handbag and extracted a paper tissue. I retreated before witnessing the next stage in keeping time at bay. Should Charles be told of the daughter's use? There was no sound in the set when I let myself in quietly. The bedroom door was shut so I went into my study to do two things, read the contents of the folder carefully and write 'thankyou' letters to several people who had made life for me in College so rewarding. Well! Mrs C-M's daughter had done a good job. As far as I could see there were no snags. She had even printed out a Google map with the hotel marked. But, if she was Khaled's secretary she must be efficient. The letters just flowed. The first was to James Tanner. I didn't think I had broken through a certain facade but he had nurtured me and helped me and spurred me to heights I had never thought or realised I could attain. I poured all this out with no reserve. I wrote separately to Paul and Jacob, and to Pauli who I had only met occasionally. I knew I had helped Jacob over realising the car in Simon Finch-Hampton's garage was likely to be the one which caused his accident. Then there was the Chaplain and his wife, the Dean, and, very importantly, Safar and his wife. Lastly, to the Master, thanking him for his interest and reiterating that whatever had been entrusted to me in solving the code was to be kept by the College and used for College interests. I addressed all the envelopes and sealed them and saw the time was four o'clock. I found a bottle carrier in the kitchen and put one of the bottles I had bought in it. This was for Old Albert and anyone he cared to share it with. There was still no sign of the rutting pair as I left the set and made my way to the Porter's Lodge. There were still a few students around, mostly looking slightly the worse for wear. In fact there was even a sight of underwear. A bra and jockstrap adorned the pinnacle at the top of the College fountain. The water gushing from the four spouts was bubbling and there was a mat of bubbles over the water in the basin. Someone had added what smelt like washing-up liquid to provide a little extra entertainment for the masses. Old Albert was behind his counter attended by Liam. They were sorting a pile of letters into the pigeon-holes. I put the bottle carrier on the counter. "A little something for those who only stand and wait," I said. Old Albert took one look at the contents and, I swear, his face cracked into a smile. Some student had likened Old Albert's gnarled and wrinkled face to that of W H Auden. I knew someone had commented on those wrinkles and had wondered, if Auden's face was like that, then what must his scrotum look like? Not wishing to have such thoughts about Old Albert I was glad when Liam stepped forward. "There's several letters for you and one by special delivery. Came in not five minutes ago. Would you sign for it, please?" He handed me about half a dozen white envelopes and a padded envelope. It was postmarked Edinburgh. I signed the piece of paper Liam put in front of me. Must be something from Curt's dad. I turned it over. Yes. The return address showed Dr R Stein as the sender. Old Albert thanked me kindly as I handed in the letters to those in College. I had addressed the others to their homes so sauntered out to the Post Office opposite Trinity and posted them there. I wandered back to the set. Wonder of wonders! The pair had emerged. They had showered and looked damply glowing. Having been aware they might be starving I had bought three slices of some sticky bun in the shop opposite John's. Both wanted tea and the kettle had boiled so I then heard they'd had the most wonderful afternoon. Oliver did stop, almost in mid-sentence, when he realised I wasn't smiling like them. "Sorry, Mark, you want Tris and there's us..." He got up and came across and knelt by my chair. "You'll see him here on Friday...." I leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "Sorry for being an old misery-guts," I said, "But, actually, I've been too busy to think." He shuffled back to his chair while I told them about the arrangements for the evening. I knew Zack wasn't intending going home until the morning. As long as two happy bunnies didn't want more of the same during the night I thought I could cope! Then I said all the arrangements were made for the visit to Rothenia. I then remembered the padded envelope which I'd put on the grand piano when I came back in. "Better see what this is," I said getting up and retrieving it. "I think it's from Curt's father." It was. As I opened it two keys slid out. A small gold key and a larger silver one. There was a letter. I read it to the pair. 'Dear Mark, I hope the enclosed reaches you before you set off. I will try to explain but it all may sound a bit strange. Over the years whenever I have had any difficulty in my life, not that there has been anything too awful, I have always been comforted, if that is the right word, by the presence of someone who existed many years ago. My father often spoke of the same presence and knew his colleague who warned him had had the same experience in that he was told to do his duty to his friend. Last night I had the usual dream. I heard the usual voice. A deep, melodious woman's voice and in three languages Rothenian, German and English repeated three times 'The keys are his'. I woke suddenly, but felt I knew who would need the keys. What I could not work out was 'What keys?'. I couldn't think of any keys to which the instruction might apply. In sitting up in bed I had woken my wife. I explained the dream. She knew of previous occasions so wasn't surprised. However, when I said I didn't know of any relevant keys she said she knew. She remembered that in a box which my father had kept under his bed there was still his old passport, my mother's wedding ring and two keys. The enclosed keys are the ones. I don't know what the keys open but I do know that as I held them to put them into the envelope the same presence was with me. Perhaps I haven't been open enough with you. It was a few weeks before my father had the stroke which incapacitated him and finally killed him that he asked me to visit him in Perth and told me very haltingly, as if he were ashamed of something, that our family had been chosen many years ago to look after the true Rothenia. He told me my grandmother had died in the summer of 1939 and my grandfather had a heart attack and died just before Christmas of that year, too. I knew neither and can only surmise that any guilt he felt was over the fact that he had left the country but he said he knew he might not have survived if he had stayed. He told me his friend had been imprisoned by the Communists after the War and died in 1948 and he had no idea what happened to his family. I have puzzled over that statement 'the true Rothenia' and felt very relieved when King Rudolf was installed. It may seem odd but I have no desire at present to visit the country. I still feel there are undercurrents there and, if I have anything to do with 'looking after' or 'guardianship' as the word suggests I must do it at a safe distance. All I can ask is that you do not put yourself or your friend in a position of any danger but, as I held the keys, I knew things would be for the best whatever happened. Sounds rather muddled but take my word. With all best wishes for a safe journey and a rewarding time, Yours sincerely, Richard Stein' There was a silence after I finished reading out the letter. Oliver looked at the keys on the coffee table. "From the way that letter was written it sounds as if he had great difficulty in expressing something much deeper." I said I had felt the same. Zack said it sounded a bit like my experiences at Ulvescott and here. I wondered if I should make a quick trip to Ulvescott. There wasn't really time. I was going home on Saturday, so Saturday was out and Tris and I had to be back here on Monday ready to fly out Tuesday. I wasn't the owner of a speedy Lexus - the only conveyance I had was the Carr bicycle and that really needed new tyres! I said I would give the letter to James Tanner in the morning and ask his advice. Both were intrigued about the exploration. I just held up my hands, a la Charles, in a gesture of 'je ne connais que cela!'. I then opened the envelopes I'd collected at the Lodge. All were congratulatory: from the Chaplain and Mrs Henson, the Dean, Safar and Cressie, Dr Anstruther-Lamb, old Dr Sinclair and the Master and Mrs Mays. In the final envelope was a postcard of the Matterhorn. On the back 'You'll climb even higher, James'. I cried. A great flood of emotion engulfed me. Both Oliver and Zack came over and hugged me. Oliver wiped my face with a handkerchief. "You're OK. I feel if everything's finished for me and I wonder what will happen next. You've got lots to do. Chin up!" I said there were really tears of happiness as well. All these people had given me such support and friendship. Oliver nodded then said "But, remember you've also given so much to the College while you've been here." I gave him James' card. He handed it to Zack after reading the message. "He's right. You've plenty to do in the future." "I feel I need to play. You as well? The Telemann?" Oliver rushed off to the bedroom and fetched his oboe and the music. Zack helped me open the lid of the harpsichord. Good. It needed a little tuning but would be OK. As we were playing there was a stealthy entry by several people. Curt and the two new lads with Logan and Sean. Each had a covered tray. Must be the tidbits. They filed into the kitchen. As we finished there was a clatter from outside and Big Steve and Liam manhandled a tin bath with ice in it. A gesticulating Charles followed with Wayne the under-gardener and Ginge pushing a trolley with two wine boxes on it. "My dears, such divine music. Don't let us disturb you. Wayne, my angel, you are used to hoses. Please fill the bath from the cold tap in the kitchen and float these bottles in it. They are cold but need to be kept chilled." He looked around. "Liam precious, the glasses. There is a cloth, too, to cover the table." A few minutes later he had his army of helpers all lined up. "Before the influx of guests I would like you all to toast the future of the College and the endeavours of all who have heard their results today. Not only that but to toast your own selves and all your colleagues who make sure that College life continues in its own traditional ways." Liam, Sean and Curt passed round glasses of bubbly. I noticed the two new lads were a bit apprehensive as they took theirs. "Nice introduction to College ways," I said as I went up to them, "You'll get used to it." Young Stevie was standing next to his uncle who had finished one glass and was having it refilled by Curt. He was staring round at the room as he took a tentative sip. "Is this all yours?" he whispered. "Only to the end of term. Been down below?" I wondered if they had as since a regrettable fracas by a group of teenagers just before Easter there had been a ban on under-eighteens. Young Stevie nodded. "Wayne took us down this afternoon. Special permission he said." He smiled. "You're down there and Wayne said that boy's your brother." "He'll be here next year. He'll have these rooms too." I bent my head down. "He's not gay, though." A slight blush. I mustn't tease! I couldn't continue the conversation as Charles clapped his hands. "A diversion," he announced. "Perhaps Mark would allow the secret door to be opened. There are some present who have not witnessed it. Mark?" OK, OK, anything to please dear Charles. No. I enjoyed seeing people's reactions when the correct stop-knob was pulled. I decided who would participate. "Young Stevie," I said, he almost jumped that I knew his name. "Read out the first letters on those knobs starting with the P there." He was certainly quick on the uptake. He read them through. "And...?" I said. "Pull the Gambe.... ...That one!" He pointed. I shoved his pal forward, a look of wonderment on his face. "Go on, reach up and pull it gently. Three clicks." As usual the opening produced gasps. I opened both doors and switched on the lights. "Go on in," I went back and propelled the pair towards the opening. "Nothing in there to bite you. Just one of the many mysteries here!" Of course, all wanted to see the hidden compartments. Charles clapped his hands again after all had exited. "Gentlemen. Some of you have other duties and I thank you for coming." The two young lads and Ginge smiled and thanked me and Big Stevie had quite a look of bemusement on his face as he shook my hand as they all went out. I thought I was going to be kissed by Curt but he had Logan's eagle eye on him. As the room cleared Oliver nudged me. "I think I ought to warn Tris that someone's bed might be warmed by at least two more willing bodies." I grinned at him. "Just my magnetic personality..." Still, I thought, the two young'uns would probably warm their own bed given the opportunity. Friends already and probably wank- buddies. More? Time would tell. Time was rushing on. I had to be presentable for tonight's festivities. "...Better get changed." I was ready within five minutes and just in time as the bewitching hour was upon us. Luckily no guests appeared until five past so all was prepared when the first half-dozen or so appeared. Members of the choir plus Gabe and Josh. Gradually the room filled. Everyone congratulated everyone else and I was kissed and almost fondled by several of the lady members of the choir especially my gorgeous pair of Fiona and Dina. I saw Fiona having a quiet word with her brother Zack. I wondered if she knew how he'd spent his afternoon? The flow of champagne seemed endless as Sean and Liam kept all supplied. There were murmurs of appreciation as the rather sumptuous tidbits were circulated. Charles was in his element. A superb Master of Ceremonies as he stepped forward just on seven o'clock. A single clap brought silence. "Dear souls!" he announced, "Let us finally celebrate all our achievements. Some will be saying goodbye to College, but a welcome is always here. Others are remaining to continue their studies. But be assured, there is but one College in our lives and we will have that fact imprinted on our spirits for ever. My experience with the historical records shows this to be so. Please raise your glasses. To St Mark's and success and prosperity to all..." Glasses were raised and I noticed there were a few tears. There was much hugging and embracing as many of the throng dispersed to other things. The group destined for the Arundel went off in twos or threes. I waited for Charles as he directed Liam and Sean to clear up properly and to have a little more champagne... The walk to the Arundel across Jesus Green on a balmy English summer evening was a perfect prelude to the fine dinner we were served. Charles just waved away any offers to contribute to the cost. My only sadness was that my Tris was not there. A quick phone call had ascertained he was deep in books ready for the final stretch of exams. I knew I must contain myself until Friday, then.... That night finished for me in a just controlled feeling of euphoria but also a sense that there was much to come. I went into my study when we returned and sat looking at the two keys for quite a time. I knew there was a presence. It was very like the times at Ulvescott and here I had already experienced . I didn't know the future but there was something more to be achieved. I shook my head. There was a slight feeling of dread but whatever it was passed. I put the keys and Dr Stein's letter back in the envelope ready to show James in the morning. I went to the bedroom. Oliver and Zack were already in bed and asleep. I was in bed quickly and slept soundly knowing I must not waver. That word had struck me when I was sitting in my study. I must not waver! Thursday Morning: We woke almost simultaneously. We grinned at each other when one by one we vacated the beds for a much needed pee. Each was in the nude as the evening had been very warm and each had the usual morning erection. Peeing was slightly difficult but that accomplished I put the kettle on and the three of us, just in pairs of shorts sat and gossiped and drank coffee before we decided that after last night's dinner we only wanted a light breakfast. I was waiting in the archway when James breezed up in good time carrying a small sports bag. He wrinkled his nose when he saw me. He stuck out a hand. The facade cracked. "You did it!" he said and most enthusiastically there and then dropped the bag and, watched by any passers by, hugged me and kissed me. "And that's from Jacob, Paul, Pauli and Barry as well." He grinned. "I had to stop the lot of them coming and causing a riot." I stood back and shook my head. "All I can say is that I would never have done anything without your help." He laughed. "Just a few gentle prods and wait until Mike Maples sees you. He says you caused the initial examiners' board to overrun. That answer on pseudoprimes had to be passed round as the external had never seen an answer given a treble alpha. He agreed, I might add, and you'll probably get an invite to do something further at Warwick. Mike's going to get me a photocopy of it - quite illegally I might add - but I want to see what you did." What? "Only my little best," I said. "I had an hour to kill! And you had dealt with some implications and I just followed them up!" I thought he was going to give me another dose of the same so held out the envelope. "I had this from Dr Stein. Perhaps you ought to read the letter before we get to Michaelhouse." He looked at his watch. "Twenty-five minutes. Just time for a coffee in the community centre." I'd checked up on Michaelhouse and found that all that remained on view was the large chapel which was now a community centre as well. I assumed the college was somewhere else with the library. Anyway, I could ask no more questions as James was engrossed in reading the missive. "Strange wording," he said when he'd read it through at least twice. "Almost as if he couldn't put pen to paper." "We thought the same," I said then told him about the keys and how I had felt when looking at them. I also told him as much as I knew about Ulvescott and the presence there. He nodded. "Yes, Dr Henson told me about your experience on the tower. I know Safar is convinced he has sensed that presence at Ulvescott. I must say I've only visited the place a couple of times but there is a certain feeling about it. I put it down to the age of the place. You get a sense of agelessness there." He nodded. "We need to keep an open mind about these things. I know you're related to Dr Thomson and his family, the Carr twins and to poor Simon. Things happen don't they and we try to find explanations?" I didn't feel like telling him I knew there was at least one abiding spirit, possibly more, keeping watch and that not only me but Tris and Frankie, Adam and Ivo, plus the various others I had met there, knew it too. I wasn't a complete believer in anything else, but that seemed to have a certain reality whatever it was. "You must take the keys with you to Rothenia," he said. He fished in the pocket of the light jacket he was wearing. "For some reason I picked this up this morning off the kitchen table." He held up a silver key-ring with a tag on it. It read 'Phillips, van Zyl and Partridge' followed by 'Solicitors' and the Cambridge address. "Jacob had them produced for clients. Have this one, it'll stop them being lost." I slipped the keys onto the sturdy ring and popped them back into the envelope. "Better get going," I said, "But where?" We left the centre and went towards the back of the large building. "Michaelhouse was one of the earliest colleges here but most of it got swallowed up by other foundations in the various religious controversies," James told me as we got to a small door. He rang the bell. "Just a few Fellows now and a smattering of post-graduates but all of very high quality and quite international." As the door opened he added quietly, "No mathematicians now, though." A small, quite elderly man in a heavy, dark tweed suit stood there. For some reason I immediately thought of Moley from 'Wind in the Willows'. He blinked. "Professor Tanner I assume," he said, not unfriendly, but rather formally and they shook hands. He looked at me "And your assistant?" James introduced me and my hand was shaken, too. "I'd better introduce myself," he said, "I'm Arnold Luffman and Librarian of Michaelhouse, or of whatever remains." He said this last with what sounded like a tinge of regret. "Come in." The heavy door was shut behind us and in the gloom of the corridor I could see each side was covered by filled bookcases. We ended up in a small room also lined with glass-fronted bookcases, all crammed with what looked like pretty ancient books. "Firstly I must apologise for any rudeness on my part when you contacted me. I was rather overwrought not only because of the importunate nature of that fellow's demands but also one of the younger Fellows had announced his retirement the night before. Very tiresome. He is to concentrate on writing more detective novels as he says he has become disenchanted with the academic life." He shook his head. I wondered who the chap was. Had I read any of his books? I didn't ask. Perhaps later. James didn't say anything either, merely nodded his head. In sympathy? James did speak then. He said I had copies of photographs taking in the 1940's and we had identified two of the people shown as being from Michaelhouse. Dr Julius Stein was with them. Mr Luffman winced at that name. James ignored that and went on, "The two were David Harding and Peter Rowlands." I opened the folder I was carrying and laid out the photographs. "These are Mr Harding and Mr Rowlands and this is Dr Stein according to the initials on the back of the originals." I had said 'Mister' as neither Harding nor Rowlands had doctorates in the listing we had read. Mr Luffman looked carefully at the copies. "Yes, that's Rowlands. He seems to have changed little over the years - colour of hair mainly I should think. He still had a shock of white hair at ninety and that beaky nose is unmistakable. I didn't know Harding. He was quite idiosyncratic and made discoveries in several areas and was also a serious mountaineer. He took a good First in Philosophy then produced a devastating destruction of Gestalt Theory for his Fellowship entry and followed that up with studies on perception and invented some device for helping aircraft pilots to navigate in poor conditions and was working on perception of signs for roads just before he had his accident." He smiled. "I am acquainted with all this as my son is Professor of Psychology at a university in America and he looked at Harding's work stored down below when he was doing his own doctorate. I was aware that Harding was involved in SOE during the War, as was Rowlands and many others from Cambridge. Much before my time though Rowlands, from whom I took over the Library, did drop a few hints once the various books began to come out." He looked from one to the other of us. "But you wish to explore the closed stacks to find what Dr Stein left behind. I don't know what it might be but there is a map of the shelving and a listing by number of the great number of boxes with initials of depositors as well. The stacks are below us and I must warn you there is almost half a mile or so of shelves plus all those boxes." He shook his head sadly. "There are many lifetimes of research still to be done on the material there but we have sufficient on the open shelves for present postgraduates. There are just ten Fellows including myself and twenty-four post-graduates and once we are gone I am afraid the College will disappear for ever." "And the material?" James asked. He held up both hands. "The University Library doesn't have the extra facilities needed for even storing our collection. There is an almost complete index but there are still many boxes to be catalogued and we don't have the resources any more. But that is our problem. I mustn't delay you. Tell me what you seek." It was my turn. As succinctly as possible I sketched out what I knew. I told of the 'madman', of his description, trying unsuccessfully to gain entry and burning his notes before ending up dead. He followed all this quite imperturbably. He only got a bit more agitated when I said about Julius Stein's deathbed conversations with his son. "That last reminds me. Rowlands told me of some strange happenings concerning a box deposited which had an arcane inscription on it with instructions in English or Latin, I think. He wasn't very forthcoming but it sounded like a warning. He was somewhere in his eighties when he told me that and I must admit I did take it as the ramblings of the elderly. I have never tried to find what may have been left." He paused. "That is, except I must admit to certain feelings when in one area of the stacks and this has been commented on by the last two post-graduates who were looking for particular documents.." He paused again and shook his head. "Not feelings of dread but that something should not be disturbed." He smiled. "Perhaps you are destined to find it." He stopped looking rather startled. "I don't know why I said that. Destiny was a word which flashed into my mind then. Strange." Neither James nor I said anything. I also had a feeling. A certain excitement. I looked at James. He was staring at me. "Mark, do not waver!" "Why did you say that?" I asked. He shook his head slowly as he spoke. "I do not know." "I don't know either but I heard that word last night as I sat looking at the keys." I fished in my trouser pocket and took out the key-ring from which the two keys dangled. James smiled. "Stranger and stranger." He turned to a staring Mr Luffman. "May we go down to the stacks, please?" Mr Luffman took a moment or two to seemingly recover his composure. "The keys," he muttered. "There is something familiar about them." He pointed to the larger silver one. "That has a very distinctive handle and the other," he pointed to the smaller gold one, "I think that one will have a motto or something engraved on the ring." I looked very carefully and noticed very small precisely engraved letters I hadn't spied before. I spelled them out. "F I D E N T I A." Mr Luffman smiled. "A Latin word, fidentia. It has several close meanings, 'boldness' is one. Do not waver!" He raised his hands. "One of my hobbies is collecting mottoes and what are called devices on armorial bearings. That word appears on many family crests. You mentioned Rothenia. That word is one associated with the ancient royalty there. And if I'm not mistaken the handle of the other key represents two eagle feathers...." I gasped and drew out the photo which I had enlarged with just Curt's great- grandfather's head and shoulders on it. His hat. Two eagle feathers exactly in the same shape as the key's handle. Mr Luffman laughed and pointed. "Those feathers are a sure sign that the photograph is of someone from Rothenia. And someone who is also proud of his country. Look at his lapel. That small badge is a medal, I'm sure. The shape is also distinctive, that is why I recognise it. Many of the shields of the nobility of Rothenia are shaped like a lion's head in honour of King Henry. Henry the Lion. The shape is stylised but is easily recognisable. I would guess that is the everyday medal of one of the Orders of Henry the Lion. By everyday I mean it is like the rosettes or bars worn by holders of the Legion of Honour in France. Do we know who it is?" I said it was Dr Julius Stein's father, Baron Wildenstejn. I didn't mention Curt. I showed him the complete copy with the Baroness as well. "A very distinguished couple," he said, "I hope you find what you want." He handed the photo back. "We had better go downstairs." He led us back into the corridor and to a closed door. On opening this he led the way down a well-lit stairway. We must have gone down at least thirty feet when the stairs ended in a large room lined with bookshelves and with study carrels and lit by well-placed lights. There were two young men poring over manuscripts in two of the carrels with computer screens in front of them. "We have reached modern times in some ways," Mr Luffman said as I tried to peer at the nearest screen without disturbing the student. He led us past the carrels to a large alcove in which were sturdy double oak doors. He took a large key from his jacket pocket and unlocked the right-hand side door and pushed it open. "Although we are connected to the Internet here we have never got round to properly lighting the stacks. There are five bulbs illuminating the opening space, just a few feet. After that darkness." James opened the sports bag. He'd had the same idea as Tris. "Is there a power point out here? I've brought about thirty yards of cable and connectors with two hand-held lamps." Mr Luffman pointed. There was a three-pin socket on the wall near the door. "The last person to explore had the same idea and we had the point installed. There is some extra cable in the cupboard here." I had been looking through the door. The light in there showed up the filled book shelves for the first few feet, then there was shadow. On the floor between the shelves were numerous boxes, mainly sturdy wooden boxes, but it looked as if many of them also had cardboard document boxes standing on them. There was an odd smell. Old paper, parchment, vellum, or whatever. It wasn't unpleasant. "Is it damp in there," I asked. Mr Luffman smiled. "It has always been a matter of great interest but the stacks have never suffered from dampness. We are some way from the river but the water table is likely to be high even here so the walls must be thick or contain something which repels damp." I said it was the same for the cellars under my set and that of Charles Fane-Stuart. Everyone had seemed baffled. He laughed again. "You realise that at one time many of the original colleges had interconnecting tunnels. The crypt of St Mark's Chapel is less than one hundred and fifty yards as the crow flies from the entrance to our stack. Perhaps they were connected at some time. By the way, there are no rats!" James was connecting up the cables as Mr Luffman was speaking. "You said there was a map or plan?" Mr Luffman took us to a side table. He showed us what looked like a labyrinth on paper. "The latest material is luckily almost in the nearest stacks and side alcoves. The deposited documents of one of the Fellows who dealt with the history of the 1870 Franco- Prussian War is probably a guide. All his material was deposited in 1935 after he died. They start on shelf V757 in bay 6765. I just know that as someone looked at them about twenty years ago and his card is still in the Readers' File. My son looked at Harding's material and that's in the same bay but from shelf W919 from the pencilled note here. You'll find individual document boxes within the shelves are numbered consecutively in 3's. By the way the bays are not all the same size" He pointed towards the right hand side. I picked up one of the hand-held lamps and entered the stacks behind James as Mr Luffman clicked down the switch. To be continued: