Date: Sun, 26 Feb 2006 22:18:42 +0000 (GMT)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in High Politics - 16

The Michael Arram stories are now beginning to appear together at:
http://www.iomfats.org/storyshelf/hosted/arram

This story contains graphic depictions of sex between young males.  If the
reading or possessing of such material as this is illegal in your place of
residence please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further.
If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so.


XVI

There was excitement in the block on the first day of term.  A Rothenian
secret service agent had a room now in Temple House next to the king's,
while a police guard was permanently on the main gate to deter paparazzi.
The school was instructed in assembly that HM the King of Rothenia was
still to be registered and addressed as `Rudi Burlesdon', and was to be
treated in every way like any other sixth former.
  `Morning Rudi,' said Henry as he passed the king in the bottom corridor,
being stared at open-mouthed by a group of Year 7 lining up for a lesson.
  `Hey Henry,' said the king, `how was summer?'
  `I worked in Camden.'
  `Then more exciting than mine ... they put me on a special course of
Rothenian constitutional history, with my own personal professor, and, my
God, was he a bore.  I only managed a week with mother at the royal lodge
on Lake Maretsku, and the weather was dreadful.  We played bridge with the
security guards.  Do you know how tedious that was?'
  `I can guess.'
  `Where's Davey?'
  `I would have thought you'd seen him, being Temple and all.'
  `He seems to be avoiding me.'
  `No.  It's the past he's avoiding.'
  `Deep, Henry.  What on earth do you mean?'
  Henry described the last Rothenian days of David Skipper and the tragedy
of Anton.  `So my best guess is that Davey was so angry at Fate, the poor
kid, that he decided just to say "Stuff it.  Stuff the lot of you."
Despair turns to anger, anger to blame, and he blamed all of us, and
particularly Terry, on whom fell the unfortunate duty of talking some sort
of sense into him.'
  `Poor Terry.  He didn't deserve that.  As if he didn't have enough to
deal with.  I thought he liked Davey?'
  `I think he did.  But he's a grown man with big projects.  He's moved on,
so far as he can move on after losing the love of his life.  His big
venture seems to be taking off.  Justin jetted out to Boston as part of a
team for his first contract last week, the lucky bunny.  He's been having
small arms lessons too.  Why does everyone I know have interesting lives,
apart from me.'
  Rudi laughed, `Oh come on, Henry.  Many people -- even straight guys --
might be happy to swap your happy little Trewern life for what you call
excitement.  You're just looking over the fence at the grass you think is
greener ... but it's only spray paint.'
  `Yes, Your Majesty.'
  `Watch it, Outfield.  Come on over to Temple, and let's see if we can
talk some sense into young Bounder.  Also we can look at the UCAS pack
together, I'd appreciate some advice.'
  `I thought it was settled that you had to go to Oxford, because of family
reasons?'
  `Yes, but I've got to make more choices than just Oxford to fill out the
form.  And what with one thing and another -- governments falling, attempts
on my life, coronations, that sort of thing -- I just haven't been able to
get round to it.'
  So Henry and the king went across the field to the common room of Temple
House and settled down to some serious reading.  Rudi logged on to the web
and they began the serious searching through university websites.  `Of
course,' said Rudi, `it was always inconceivable that I should go anywhere
other than St Johns, where father had gone and grandfather and the whole
Rassendyll lineage.  I wonder if there was ever a chance that I wouldn't
get in, and now I'm a king the question is even more academic, but I have
to go through the motions.  What about you Henry?'
  `Me?  Ed's keen that we go to Cambridge together.'
  `But you're not, I take it?'
  `No ... but don't tell him that.  I fancy something respectable and
redbrick, not élitist or ... it has to be said, expensive.  My parents can't
give me much and it has to be reasonably cheap, because I'll be doing
university on support grants and loans.  Ed comes from money, and although
he no longer lives with his parents, Matt and Andy have made it pretty
clear that cash will be no object in his higher education and they will pay
for him to go wherever he wants.'
  `Lucky Ed.  It sounds like you've got some interesting times ahead of
you.  Haven't the forms got to be filed in just six weeks?'
  Henry looked unusually morose for him, `Yup ... I don't know what to do,
Rudi.'
  `What grades have they predicted?  You might get some sort of bursary.'
  `God was I stupid, I decided to do four A Levels.  Fine, the school's
predicted AAA, but then they've assessed me as a B in French, and that
looks worse than if I'd just done the standard three.  The hubris of Henry.
My pride is going to be my downfall.'
  The two boys kicked around possible insurance places for half an hour and
examined university web pages.  But Henry had got nowhere by the time the
door bumped open and he had his first encounter of the term with David
Skipper.  It was clear enough that David was over Henry.  There was no
interest at all in his eyes, and the body language was entirely
indifferent.  But he did give a tight smile, say hello and shake Henry's
hand, although he did not ask about his summer.  He was determined to be
polite and Henry was quite as polite back.
  David's greeting towards Rudi was more openly friendly, and Rudi seemed
genuinely pleased to see his former nemesis.  They talked a bit, although
no one made any reference to their Rothenian adventures.  Henry went off to
lessons and then for a discrete snogging session with Ed in his carrel,
with one ear cocked for passing friends.  Ed said that he had already
bumped into David, who was positively effusive.  `Face it babe, he hates
Terry because he scuppered his dream of young love in Strelzen.  You he
dislikes because you were his first and unattainable love.  You and Terry
he associates with the worst pain of all: heartache.  He doesn't want
anything to do with either of you if he can avoid it.  Terry he'll probably
never see again, but you he has to see on a daily basis.  It's never going
to be comfortable for him till he grows up a bit.'
  `Great.'
  `You can't solve the world's problems, little babe.  Stop being such a
martyr.  It'll sort itself out, it usually does.'
  Henry grunted.  He would never attain to Ed's equanimity.  His mind still
kept throwing up suggestions to help people he cared for, and he still
cared for David.

At the end of the first week, Henry's mobile chirped while he was in the
common room.  He didn't recognise the identity.
  `Hello, it's Henry,' he said.
  `Hi Henry, it's Alex Johnson, remember me?'
  `Er ... hi.  Yeah.  We met in London at Terry's big launch.'
  `Good, you do.  And you remember what I do?'
  `Journalist, right?  Look ... how did you get my number?'
  `I explained my problem to Matt, and he gave me your contact details;
reluctantly, I have to say.'
  Henry was cross.  `He had no business doing that.'
  `Easy, Henry.  Wait till you hear me out.  You're friends with the king
of Rothenia, right?  Remember I was going out to Strelzen?  When I was
there, I was in touch with their department of state, and they said they
were going to allow one English, one French and one German interviewer
access to the king this year, with a photo shoot.  I got on a list that
they're giving the king to select from.'
  `And this concerns me, how?'
  `Jeez, you're a tough little devil aren't you?  Look, I'm not asking you
to pull strings or anything, just give us a hint as to what might swing it
for me.  It'll be quite a coup for my paper ...'
  `... and you.'
  `Well naturally.  Look, Matt and Andy are old mates, they'll tell you
that I'm a straightforward and serious journalist, and I'll do a good job.
No axes to grind or anything.  Give us a hint Henry.'
  Henry thought about it.  `OK.  One thing that'll get Rudi's notice is if
you include a Rothenian photographer in your tender.  There's a good one,
very famous in his own country, Bolslaw Meric.  The king knows him and
likes his work.  I've got his card somewhere.  Hang on.'
  Henry found Bolslaw's details and passed them on to Alex, who was
effusively grateful.  Henry rang off, irritated.
  In bed with Ed that Sunday, before church, he rang Bolslaw in Strelzen.
The old man was delighted to hear from him and Henry teased him by
describing precisely where he was and what he was doing.  `You young boys,
inexhaustible and shameless: you'll be doing it for a living one of these
days, naughty Hendrik.'  Henry laughed and asked him if he'd heard from
England.  `As it happens, I have heard from your Guardian newspaper, they
want to use me for a photoshoot with the king.  Isn't that fantastic?  My
fame seems to be spreading, and not before time.  Any later and it will be
posthumous.  But ... who told you?'
  Henry explained that he suggested him to the Guardian's foreign editor.
`My word, I seem to have been entertaining quite an influential boy that
wonderful day the king returned.  Then I shall be seeing you soon, my
pretty Hendrik.  For I have received first class British Airways tickets to
Heathrow for next Friday.  The shoot will be at your school on Saturday.'
  `Brilliant.  I shall make sure that I'm around for morning prep.'
  `Prep?'
  `School homework ... I don't know the Rothenian for it.'
  `I think I get the idea.  Until then, my love.'
  Ed was amused by the whole thing.  `Henry the media broker.  Do you think
we'll get to watch the interview?'
  The interview took place in the school library, and took about an hour.
The delight for Henry and Edward, although not David, was that Terry had
driven Alex down from London.  Alex and Terry were old friends, and
apparently they had worked together in the past.  That news of itself made
Henry a bit happier about trusting Alex.  When the boys had given him a
restrained welcome, Terry said he had driven Alex down because he had some
business of his own with the king.
  Bolslaw set up in the library to take some formal shots after the
interview.  He was out of his usual ill-fitting tee-shirts and dressed in a
blue safari suit, which for him was subdued.  He smiled at Ed and Henry
when he and his assistant carried his boxes past them, but he concentrated
on the business in hand.
  Alex grinned at Henry as he shook hands with Rudi as he left the library.
`Come on in, sweet boys,' Bolslaw whispered hoarsely at Ed and Henry.  `His
Majesty said he'd like some company while I practise my dark arts.'
  They sat on a table while Rudi had formal pictures of himself taken in an
armchair, and at a window.  Then Bolslaw wanted a less formal shot of the
king studying with friends, and Ed and Henry posed cheerfully with him,
spreading out Henry's prep and the contents of an UCAS pack.  After that
Bolslaw went out into the grounds and took the king in a number of informal
shots in the quad, the cloisters and the chapel.
  When he had finished, Rudi, Bolslaw and the boys returned to the library
and viewed the shots.  As Henry expected, they were phenomenally good.
Bolslaw had used the light in the library to brilliant effect and he had
the knack of catching faces just slightly off guard when they were at their
most revealing.  Rudi's determination and dignity, even at the age of
seventeen, were deeply impressed on his handsome face.
  `Excellent, Mr Meric,' said Rudi, `you have a great gift.  I don't think
that there is one picture here which I would be unhappy to see in print,
and this one I shall recommend to the Chancellor as a possible official
portrait to put in Rothenian embassies around the world.'
  The old man looked on the verge of tears, and he did the Rothenian thing
of going down on his knee -- slowly and awkwardly in his case -- and
kissing the king's hand.  He received a kind blessing, and the king helped
him to his feet and gave him a double kiss.  Tears were running down the
old man's face as he packed up his cases.  Terry came in at this point for
his meeting with the king, while Henry and Ed walked Bolslaw to his car.
  He hugged Henry hard before he got in, `What can I say, pretty boys.
You've made me very happy, Henry.  That was the greatest shoot of my career
... and I include the porno shots from Falkefilm, here.'  They laughed, and
said they hoped to see him again in Strelzen.  `Oh, and Henry, I have this
for you.'  He handed Henry a wrapped-up book, kissed the boys and drove off
with his assistant.
  Henry unwrapped the book.  It was in Rothenian, and the title read `The
New Art of Bolslaw Meric'.  Plate XV was marked, and there in a full page
black and white plate was one of the more solemn portraits of Ed and Henry
that he had taken earlier that year, entitled `Achilles and Patroclus'.
  `Wow,' said Edward, `I'm an objet d'art.'
  `... with a Classical edge.'
  They hung around the library until Rudi had finished his meeting with
Terry.  Alex was hanging round too, and was expecting to go to lunch with
Terry.  He said he would like it if the boys would come too, and perhaps
suggest somewhere reasonable.  Ed thought the Maltsters in Huntercombe was
the best local pub restaurant, it was the other pub in the village -- nicer
than the King Billy, but it would never serve underage kids.
  Terry came out and shook the king's hand.  Rudi took his leave, and Terry
told them to get their bags and join him in his car, the neat Jaguar in
this case.  `Navigate me Henry,' he said.
  It was an enjoyable meal, but frustrating.  This was because Terry and
Alex were in a mood to reminisce.  Terry was a native of the small
university city of Cranwell in north Wiltshire, and it was to Cranwell
University that Alex had gone to study Politics before moving on to a
career in Reuters.  Matt and Andy had been there too, as well as Katy and
other people whose names the boys did not recognise.  Finally the old
friends remembered that Ed and Henry were there by the looks of boredom
that had come over them.
  Alex was conciliatory, `So, er, lads, I suppose you must be thinking
about uni now too, yes?'
  Ed replied, `We're thinking about Cambridge together.'
  `Not the States then?' Terry had taken his degree, Dance and Theatre
major, in a liberal arts college in Virginia.
  Henry sighed, `Cost is an issue in my case.'
  `Oh yeah ... they've put the fees up haven't they,' Alex sympathised.
`I'm not sure I'd have bothered to go if that had happened in my day.'
  Henry sighed again, `And Cambridge is not the cheapest, or the easiest to
get in.'
  `But we're gonna give it our best shot, aren't we Henry?' soothed Edward.
He turned to Terry, `So are you going to tell us why the king wanted to see
you?'
  Terry just laughed, `My business is confidentiality, Ed.  Of course not.
But you may find out in due course.'
  Alex picked up the bill and Terry dropped the boys off at Trewern
rectory.  Henry led the way to his room and dumped the application details
on his desk.  He sighed yet again, `Let's sort this, Ed.  If you think we
must, I will put down Cambridge as my first choice, but I just don't have
your confidence that I'll make it there.'
  Ed reassured him, `You underestimate yourself, Henry.  You'll do well in
the interview, you'll walk it, no problems.'
  `If you say so.  But I have to give serious thought to my insurance
offers.  It's traditional to go for Exeter, Bristol and Durham in case of
refusal by Cambridge, so Mr Patton says, but I don't want to do that.'  Ed
raised an eyebrow.  `No, I'm going to do the sensible thing.  There are
good universities out there, which are a lot cheaper.  I'm gonna put down
Hull, Cranwell and Gloucester, all good for History and Theology.'
  `I'll put down Cranwell, cos Matt and Andy went there and they both liked
it, but other than that I'll go with Mr Patton's suggestions.'
  `And there's the gay scene,' mused Henry.
  `What, is Cranwell famous for it?'
  `The very opposite.  It's more or less nonexistent there according to
Terry, who ought to know, as he spent most of his late teens hanging round
public toilets in the town.  I don't actually want to go where there's a
big gay student community.  I'd go to Brighton for that.  You get
ghetto-ised.  Don't want that.  So.  We're done then.  Let's get this
sorted, I'll boot up the box.  Let's fill in forms, Ed.'

Before the end of October, the application forms were done, the personal
statements polished and the head of sixth form had stamped them with his
approval.  Henry pressed the button and sent his passport to the future
winging on its electronic flight.  It was a good day that day.  The school
B team in hockey which Henry captained had its first victory under his
leadership, while Ed's A team went down hard to a second rate school, not
that Henry was in any way into Schadenfreude.  As they were coming off the
field, a grinning figure in a very expensive suit and shades was waiting
for them on the touchline.
  `Bloody hell,' said Henry.
  `Nice legs ... if a bit muddy,' replied Justin.
  `What're you doing here?' Ed asked, more than a little taken aback,
`Catching up on your non-existent schooling?'
  `Don't be daft.  Iss work innit.'
  `I don't know.  You here to do the gardens?'
  `Security work, little Henry, security work. I'm here doin' a preliminary
inspection for me boss, Mr O'Brien ... but you can call him Terry.'
  `How did you get here?'
  `Got me firm's car now, haven't I?  Nice little Honda, iss fallen in love
with Nathan's Clio, they shag in the garage at Haddesley when they think
we're not looking, dirty little machines.'
  `So business is good?'
  `Business is fuckin fantastic, mate.  I had a month on tour in Boston and
New York as security to a British boyband.  They were all fuckin' gay too!
Bet their fans'd never guess what they get up to in the dressing rooms.  I
had to make sure no one found out, and stop meself being shagged by them
too.  Anyway, Terry's opened up a US office in Chicago, run by his mate
Zeke Alonzo.  I'm on their contract list so I could be back there in the
new year.  Just love the States.  All this and nineteen too!'
  The rest of the teams had streamed by their captains by now, eyeing
Justin curiously as they passed.  Henry insisted, `What's the business that
brings you here then?'
  `Iss the king.  The local police have said they haven't got the manpower
to seal the school, so iss been contracted out to O'Brien Associates -- "We
Keep You Out of the Papers" -- thought that up meself, good slogan, yeah?'
  `Actually not bad ... so does this mean that you'll be coming down to
Medwardine,' asked Henry, bemused with the idea of Justin wandering round
his school being outrageous and rather hopeful that it might just happen.
  `Nah ... Terry said over his dead body when I suggested it, but he did say
I could do the assessment, which is why I'm here.  You wanna come up to see
the king wiv me?'
  `We need to have a shower first.'
  `Ooh, can I come and soap your dicks?'
  `Yeah ... OK,' agreed Ed.
  `What, really?'
  `Of course not.  We don't even soap each other's.  We play it cool here
at Medwardine.'
  `Boring.  Which way is it to ...' Justin consulted a notebook filled with
his suprisingly neat handwriting, `Temple House?'
  `We'll meet you in reception in twenty minutes and take you up there.'

  `Hey, your Kingship,' thus did Justin greet Rudolf VI of Rothenia.
  `Hey back, your Justyness,' laughed the king, apparently delighted.  He
was in the common room with David Skipper, puzzling over their Business
Studies course work.
  `Can we talk, Rudi?'
  `Talk away.'
  Justin pulled out his notebook and pen, `OK, the main fing as I see it is
those fuckin paps -- "Kill a Pap for Christmas" is a bumper sticker I bin
working on for Terry.  Now we can't seal off the grounds here ... not wiv a
perimeter that big.  We can put a guy on the gate which'll cost you a lot,
and we really need to have a guy in the house wiv you, again, it'll cost.'
  `The bill goes to the Rothenian department of state, so don't worry about
it.  How will this interfere with what my bodyguard does,' Rudi nodded to
the corridor where a shaven headed Rothenian secret service agent sat,
staring at Justin in disbelief.
  `Different jobs, Rudi.  He's there to take the bullet for you, our guy
will be there to stop different sorts of shots.  And of course Terry has
good sources in pap-land.  He tends to know when the tabloids and celebs
have put out a call for compromising pickies of people.  You get all that
expertise with the package.'
  `Seems OK to me, but bear in mind that I don't want to be followed about
by a pack of minders, especially in school.'
  `It won't work like that, Rudi.  Our guy in the school will be minding
the premises from the inside, not tagging you around so much, except when
you leave and do functions.  Oh, and Terry says to tell you that the deal
don't include foreign travel, iss only domestic, and he'll do a discount
for you, since you're a mate.  Whaddya say?'
  `Done deal.  I'll e-mail the minister.  But I have a veto on the guys
Terry chooses, OK?'
  `Sure nuff, Rudi.  Fancy a pint at the King Billy tonight?  Ed and Henry
are puttin' me up at Trewern.'
  `We are?'

There was no problem about accommodating Justin at the rectory. Mum had
fallen for his gamin-like charm the previous year, and, like most
middle-aged women, thought his humour, coarseness and rough edges were
endearing.  Justin filled a blind spot in the middle-aged female psyche,
Henry had concluded.
  The Rothenian bodyguard drove out David and Rudi to Trewern in his black
SUV, and picked up the other three to ferry them over to Huntercombe.
Henry sat next to him and chatted away in Rothenian.  His name was Roman
and he was normally on surveillance duty at the airport, so he was enjoying
his foreign posting, especially as he was being paid extra.  He had no wife
or family, so he didn't feel guilty about it, and he was on alternate
shifts with his friend Alexei.  They had lodgings on High Street in
Medwardine.  It was a quiet Wednesday night at the King Billy, so they made
the back snug their own, and got their pints, or for Henry, a gin.  Terry
had converted him to spirits.
  Rothenia was the main topic of conversation that night, as might be
expected, and this time David opened up a little.  Time had healed his hurt
about Anton, and the subject of Strelzen was no longer such a difficult one
for him.  Justin gleefully told once more his story of the seduction of
Hendrik Wilemmin, this time with Rudi and David sitting there, open-mouthed
at his shameless audacity.  He warmed to his topic, and his graphic
accounts of the orgies he had witnessed backstage in the States left
nothing to the imagination and were highly erotic.
  When Henry dashed to the loo, he found the cubicle already occupied by
David.  `Fucking hurry up Davey, I've got to jerk off bad.'  The door
banged open, and David pulled him in.  He had lost his clothes below the
waist and he soon pulled Henry's trousers down and closed his hand over his
dick.  Henry fountained very quickly, and then they switched places and
Henry did the same for David.
  David sat on Henry's lap wiggling his warm buttocks on his still
half-erect penis.  Henry kissed him and as they broke apart, he said, `So
we've decided to be gay again?'
  `Oh, shut up Henry.  I could never really be anything else with you
around.  But thanks for doing that.  Odd, but your hand job gave me some
perspective again.  Anton was crap at BJs, just wanted me up his arse all
the time.  I could do better.'
  `Good,' Henry kissed him again, `Come on.  We'll be missed, or worse
still, miss another of Justy's hot stories.'  Once back in the snug, he
surreptitiously fondled David's crotch under the table, trying to make him
wriggle or giggle.  It was an odd way to make it up, but somehow it worked
and when they emerged from the pub at throwing out time, Henry sensed that
he was back where he had been with David Skipper, and as a result, he was
happier than he had been for a long time.
  Justin had downed a few, but there was nothing wrong with his reactions
as it transpired.  There was a row of clipped shrubs between the King Billy
and its car park.  As Rudi and the rest of the boys slid the door back and
climbed into the SUV, Justin darted behind the row of bushes and hauled up
a slim man by his hair.  Justin gave him a sharp punch in the gut.  As the
man doubled, Justin deftly took a black object from his hand, removed
something which he pocketed, and then dropped the object, crushing it under
his heel.
  `Evening fucker,' he said, amiably.  `Why doan you interduce yerself
proper next time.'
  `You'll fucking pay for that,' the man gasped.
  `Who'll pay for it?'
  `You, you arsehole.  Oh fuckin' Christ ... tell that bastard to get that
thing outa my face.'
  Roman the bodyguard had by now unholstered his pistol, which was pointed
at the stalkerazzo's nose.'
  `Look,' said Justin in tones of ineffable reasonableness, `Iss
regrettable an all, but there you wuz hangin' round bushes in the dark
pointin' an unidentified object at a foreign head of state.  Lucky we
didn't shoot you.  Anyways, if yer gonna make a claim, I doan work for the
king, so who you gonna invoice?  So jess fuck off like a good pap, and go
huntin' Big Brother microstars.  They ain't so dangerous.  Bye now.'  He
pushed the man backwards into a flowerbed, and got everybody into the SUV.
`That could have been nasty, Rudi,' he held up the memory card of the
expensive digital camera he had just crushed under foot.  `King of Rothenia
underage drinking in an English pub.  Wouldn't have looked good.  You
really do need media protection.'
  Rudi looked a little stunned. `I see what you mean,' he said. `You've
sold it to me.'
  `Justy,' whispered Henry suspiciously, a little later on, `You didn't
plant that guy in the bushes did you?'
  `Henry!' Justin laughed, `What a high opinion you have of me!'