Date: Thu, 26 Jan 2006 16:31:50 +0000 (GMT)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in High Politics 4

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.


IV

  `OK, Davey.  Tell me what happened.'  Henry had gone over to Temple House
and tracked David down to his room.  They were sitting on his single bed,
their backs against the wall.
  `Oh, it was my fault, I suppose.  But he's such an arrogant fucker.  He
came up to me in the block and said that he had finally discovered that I
hadn't come clean under my own steam, but because you had pushed me into
it.  Nevertheless he said -- the pompous arse -- he was willing to let
bygones be bygones, out of respect for you.  And I was supposed to smile
and shake his hand!'
  `Which you didn't, of course.'
  `No chance.  I told him that if he hadn't been such an arrogant bastard
none of it would have happened in the first place.  He seems to think that
he's allowed to fly off the handle, and we're just there to cushion his
landing!  So I said a few choice words about him being the heir of
centuries of arrogance and privilege, and what could anyone expect of
someone of his parentage ...'
  `Ah.  That might not have been too clever.  His dad's dead and it hurts.'
  David looked a little embarrassed.  `Well, I was angry.  So he flipped
and hit me in the mouth.  I just jumped back enough not to lose my teeth.
Then Ed and the lads piled in and separated us.'
  `Leaving us with as big a problem as before.  Davey, I know you hate
Burlesdon's guts, and he is a difficult bastard, but he's not a monster,
far from it.'
  David tentatively snaked an arm round Henry's waist and gave him a light
kiss on the cheek.  `You're such a softy, Henry.'
  Henry unconsciously snuggled closer to David, he liked intimacy with
other boys, and he and Ed had got into social kissing with their gay
friends outside school.  `Don't you start, Bounder,' he said. `I've just
been patronised by Ed on that very subject.  But I'm not some sort of soft
touch.  I just want to be fair.'
  `Then be fair to me, Henry.  I seem to be the one who's getting beaten up
regularly.'
  Henry turned round and gave a quirky smile into David's face.  `But you
ask for trouble, mate.'
  David closed with his lips as he said this, and before Henry knew it,
they were making out, with David on top of him.  He struggled up.
  `Down, Davey!'
  `It's not just me with an erection.'
  Henry grimaced.  `It's just mechanical.  Stop doing this, Davey.  I'm
monogamous.  You've got to find your own boyfriend.'
  `Where?'
  `How should I know?  My experience is that you have to wait for someone
to kick you in the arse.  It's a pity Terry's not here.'
  `Who's he?'
  `Terry O'Brien.  He's a friend of some friends.  He started shagging, or
being shagged, when he was sixteen and made quite a career out of it,
according to our mate Justin.  But I think he lived in the public toilet
cruising end of the shagging market, which doesn't seem quite your style,
Davey.'
  David looked baffled, `Desperation is taking me in that direction,
Outfield, believe me.  I so wanna lose it.  What's it like having Ed's dick
up your bum?'
  `How do you know we do anal?'
  `The way you shift in your seat in RS sometimes.'
  `It's personal, all I'll say is that it's not like you expect, and you
really do have to use lube.'
  `I shall treasure that advice,' David said, and then laughed.  `You do
cheer me up, Henry.  Bless you.'
  `What are we going to do about you, Davey?'
  `Threesome sex?'
  `You're incorrigible.'

It got worse.  Rudi seemed to have lost his social confidence, or at least
the will to be social, and retreated into his room.  David did not have the
moderation and self control to keep his grievance to himself, and so he
stirred up his friends against Rudi.  All in all it was a difficult week,
only lightened by the fact that Ed had decided to help Henry out.  He went
out of his way to talk to Rudi; he sat with him at meals, and even visited
him in his room after lessons and prep.
  `You're right, Henry,' he concluded.  `He's not such a bad bloke, apart
from the tendency to flip at irregular intervals.  Not much into sport.
But you could make the same criticism of nicer people.  I suggested he come
and visit the rectory this weekend, if he didn't mind hanging out with
queers.'
  `Blimey, what did he say?'
  `He got all offended that he might think we cared what people said about
him.  So he said yes.  I sort of talked him into it without meaning to.  I
amaze even myself ...'
  Dad and Mum were OK with it, even after Henry admitted that Rudi was an
aristocrat.  Dad countered with a pious platitude: `We are all one in the
eyes of God ... now, I think that earns me fifty points in the religious
cliché game, Henry - not just bottom-clenchingly awful, but appropriate
too.'  It was a long-term competition he and Henry had going.
  Rudi was different with adults, as it turned out.  Mum was perfectly
charmed.  `And he's good looking too, in a pale redheaded sort of way.
Lovely green eyes and delicious freckles.  He'll be a ladykiller.  He's not
another one of your gay friends is he?'
  `No mum, this one plays with a straight bat, as Edward likes to say.'
  Rudi was quite relaxed with Ed and Henry too, even when he walked in on
them snogging in the lounge on Saturday afternoon.  `Don't mind me,' he
smiled, although the smile was a little on the tight side.  They went back
to their mouth exercises.
  On Sunday he was happy to join them in church, although, as he said, he
was a Catholic.  `I won't take communion, if that's all the same Mr
Atwood,' he said.  But he did come up to the rail for a blessing, which
Henry thought was sensitive.  He hung around after the service while Ed and
Henry cleared up, chatting to old ladies.  The word that Rudi was a lord
had got round the parish like bird flu, and a certain sort of parishioner
was very excited.
  It was as Ed and Henry had finished off and were coming out of the
vestry, that an odd thing happened, or at least it seemed odd later.  Dr
Mac was bringing up the collection plate, and as he saw Henry he smiled and
as usual said `Ahoi, dobra denn.'  But before Henry could answer, Rudi
responded automatically. `Prosim, men freund, dobra denn.'  Henry stared at
him, and Rudi looked as though he'd been caught out saying something he
shouldn't.  Dr Mac smiled and congratulated him, before heading on into the
vestry.
  `You speak Rothenian, Rudi!  Not only that, but you speak it good!'
  `Oh ... er, yes.  It's a sort of family tradition.  We used to have an
estate in Rothenia up until the war, and young Rassendylls used to go out
and manage the farms there.  My grandmother is Rothenian.  But we finally
lost it in the nationalisation of 1948.  Father had just begun the legal
process of reclamation when he was killed, in fact he was flying out to
Rothenia when his plane came down in 1997.  It's on hold at the moment
until I come of age under Rothenian law, then mother's going to restart the
process.'
  `How much land is there, and in what part of Rothenia?' asked Ed, very
curious now.
  `It's quite a lot actually.  My great-great-great grandfather was given
the castle of Hentzen and the entire Hentzen estate by Queen Flavia.
You've heard of her, I imagine?'
  `We know quite a bit about Rothenia, Rudi,' Henry replied. `We were there
last summer and we've got quite a few Rothenian friends.'
  `Oh!' Rudi looked quite interested, `where did you stay?'
  `In the capital. Strelzen.  We had a month there, the best time I've ever
had.'
  `Me too,' Ed affirmed.  `Have you been there yet?'
  `Yes, we go to stay with relatives sometimes, usually Christmas for the
skiing.  Though it's been two years since the last time.'
  Henry asked, `Have you been following the news?  It looks bad at the
moment there.'
  Rudi suddenly shut down, in a rather odd and a very decided way, `I
expect it's exaggerated.  Now.  Tell me about this interesting tomb in the
churchyard.'

All in all, it was an enjoyable weekend, and they were quite cheery with
each other on the minibus back to Medwardine on Monday.  After assembly, Ed
and Henry adjourned to the terminals to check up on their e-mail accounts.
Ed signed in.  `Hey!  Here's one from Fritzy!  You gotta read the whole
thing, babe.'  Henry did.

<Hi Edward and Henry.  Thank you for your concern, but we are fine up here
in Modenehem.  The news says that there was only a small problem in Zenden,
although the riot police were sent in, which doesn't sound so small a
problem to me.  We saw Oskar on TV two nights ago.  He sometimes presents a
current affairs programme on Eastnet.  He was talking to Helmut
Trachtenberg of the Unity Party --loud and aggressive man -- and Piotr
Bermann of the RSDP -- even more loud and aggressive.  It was very funny.
They both lost it and started fighting each other.  Oskar and the cameraman
had to separate them, and Oskar got a punch that gave him a black
eye. Helge told me off for laughing.  There's a lot of politics going on,
and that nice President Maritz will have to resign.  I like him.  He is
very kind and always has a laugh with me when we meet.  I will let you know
if anything happens.  Are you coming to stay?  It would be nice.  Helge
says there will be less tourists this year because of the trouble.  PS.  I
have a girlfriend.  Her name is Maria.  She is hot.>

  Henry smiled, `Poor old Oskar.  But Fritzy's a dead loss when it comes to
information.  You can't expect too much of a fourteen-year-old, even a
fourteen-year-old prince.'
  `I'm not so sure of that, Henry,' Ed replied.  `Reading between the
lines, Fritzy's picking up lots of bad signals, and he knows things are
going wrong.  He just doesn't want us to worry.  Oh.  Here's one from Andy.
I'd better check ... oh my God!'
  Henry snapped to Ed's face, which had suddenly gained a fixed intensity
and look of shock on it.  `Whassup?'
  Ed looked at him unhappily, `Bad problems, little babe.  You read it.'
The e-mail was from Andy Peacher, one of Ed's two London-based
fosterfathers.

<Dear Ed.  Sorry not to ring, but by the time you read this I'll be
somewhere in the States with Matt and I'm not entirely sure where.  There's
been a tragedy.  You'll remember that our friend Terry O'Brien had a lover,
Ramon Villa.  I don't think you met him ... really great bloke and they
were very much in love.  They were living in Greenwich Village.  Ramon was
working in an inner city Manhattan school, and Terry was looking for work
in theatres.  Ramon came home from work on Friday complaining of a
headache, and by midnight he was in pain all over his body and delirious.
Terry got him to hospital, but there was nothing they could do.  He died of
meningitis on Saturday morning.  It's awful.  Me and Matt are leaving by
overnight flight to be with Terry.  I don't expect we'll be coming back
soon.  This buggers up our plans for your Easter holiday, but I hope Mr and
Mrs Atwood can put you up, at least for the first week.  We'll be in touch
as soon as we know what the plans for the funeral are and how long we'll
need to be here.  God knows what this will do to Terry.  We'll ring as soon
as we know anything.  Love.  Andy.>

  `Oh my God,' said Henry in his turn.  They had met Terry at a big London
function, and had liked him a lot.  He was very much a hero to their friend
Justin.  He had taught Henry how to waltz and they had heard some of his
scandalous cruising stories.  They had also picked up that he had quite a
history as a security consultant and bodyguard to the rich and famous.  But
he had given that up for a career in the arts, and he was just taking his
first steps towards Broadway.  Henry resolved to make sure that Terry and
Ramon's names got on the Trewern prayer list this week.  It was all so very
sad.  And although Henry's perspective on death was for many reasons not as
bleak as some people's, he did not underestimate the poignancy and
blackness of the grief that went with it.  He had recently experienced
quite how cosmically powerful that sort of grief could be.
  Ed heaved a sigh.  `Do you think that your mum and dad will be OK about
it?'
  Henry nodded, `Oh yeah.  Aside from the tragedy, they'll be delighted at
the excuse to put you up for a week, and Dad loves having two young servers
in the sanctuary.  It's a sort of status symbol for vicars.'
  Ed absently scrolled down the inbox and said.  `Hey, babe.  Here's
another e-mail from Fritzy, sent only half an hour ago, probably just
before he went to school.'

<Hi Edward and Henry.  I don't know if you had heard but our friend Terry
has lost his boyfriend Ramon.  Everybody here is upset.  I did not know
Ramon well, but Terry I know and love a lot.  He is so very funny.  He is
very close to our good friend Will Vincent, and, although they have had
their differences, I know that my brother Oskar thinks highly of Terry.
Will and Oskar came through Modenehem late last night to say goodbye.  They
are flying out this morning to New York to join Matt and Andy to do what
they can for Terry.  This is not going to be a good summer, I can feel it.
Oskar was on the phone a lot when he was here, talking to many different
political people, as was Will.  But they won't tell me anything.  Love.
Fritzku.>

  Ed looked downhearted.  `It looks like the tribe are assembling across
the Atlantic to support Terry.'
  `You feel left out of it, don't you Ed.'
  `A bit.  I know it's selfish of me, because I barely know Terry, but I
felt I was becoming part of the Peacher set.  But it looks like I'm not so
much a part of it that I'm included in its tribal gatherings.'
  `I'll ring Justin and see what he knows.'  Henry got his mobile and rang
Justin's number, but there was only voicemail.  He tried the number for
Nathan Underwood, Justin's boyfriend.  They were managing a garden centre
in Suffolk, near Ipswich.  This time there was a reply.
  `Hey little Henry.  I suppose you've heard the bad news?'
  `Yes.  That was why I was ringing.  Is Justin going over to the States?'
  `Already gone.  He took the early train to London.  I drove him over to
Ipswich.  Matt had booked him on a flight to New York.  I believe the lucky
oik is staying in the Waldorf Astoria.  I on the other hand am here
stacking grobags and manning the till.'
  `Will you be going over for the funeral?'
  `No.  I doubt it.  Businesses don't run themselves.  Terry understands.
I sent my condolences by Justin and by e-mail.  How are you guys?'
  `A bit upset.  We like Terry.  But with Matt and Andy gone abroad, Ed's
having to stay here with me in Shropshire for most of the holiday.'
  `That's some sort of silver lining for you, then.'
  `I guess.  But Ed loves Matt and Andy and was looking forward to getting
back together with them in London.  He hopes he'll be seeing them in the
second half of the holiday.'
  `Yeah, well nice to hear from you ... but I got customers.  Oh, and don't
forget you've got AS exams to revise for.  Cheers little Henry babe!'
  Henry put his mobile back in his pocket and gave Ed a resumé of the
conversation.  `That's Nathan,' he said, `always pragmatic.  Also he's
right.  We could do without distractions.  There's exams only a fortnight
after we get back, and the course work for History and English is due in
the day school restarts.  We'd better get planning, little babe.  Remember
how effective a revision team we were for our GCSEs?'  Henry did.  Last
August he had chalked up 3 A* and 6 A grades, with only one B.  Ed had
totalled out on As, with 6 A*.

The two boys were as industrious and conscientious as ever throughout the
last week at school and the first week of the Easter holiday.  Ed also
studied in the evenings with Rudi Burlesdon, and helped him a lot with his
History and English.  Rudi was grateful, and indeed seemed to be forming a
real friendship with Ed, while Henry held the line with David Skipper.  It
was a relief nonetheless when school ended with no further flare-ups
between Rudi and David.  Rudi was picked up by his mother, Lady Burlesdon,
a thin woman who would look very much at home on the cover of Country Life,
if indeed she had not been there already.
  `Mother, these are my friends, Henry Atwood and Edward Cornish.'  Henry
resisted the impulse to curtsey to the countess.  She smiled and was very
pleasant as they shook hands.
  `Hello boys.  It's a relief to find that Rudi has made friends here
... not something he managed in his last school after three years.  But
this school has a very good pastoral reputation, and it was good to find
that I have only had two letters complaining about Rudi this entire year so
far.  I have box files of them from his last school.'
  Rudi blushed, `Mother, I don't think that Ed and Outfield want to hear
that.'
  `"Outfield"?  Is that what they call you Henry?'
  Henry laughed, `Yes.  I'm so poor a cricketer that I always get put as
far away from the action as can be.  Also there's a sort of pun: "Outfield"
and "Atwood".  It's cleverer than most school nicknames.'  He didn't
mention that the nickname got even more popular when Henry outed himself in
Year 11.
  They waved Rudi and his mother off in their latest model Landrover, then
hauled Ed's bags to the Trewern and Huntercombe minibus.  It was almost a
relief when they got off at Harper's Lane and walked up to the rectory.
  `That was one fuck of a term, little babe,' said Ed as they went up the
lane.  `It's a relief that we're over it in one piece.  Trinity term had
better be quieter for all our sakes.'