Date: Thu, 25 Jan 2007 21:18:02 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's: 25

		      Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's

				    by

				   Joel

             Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:
Mark Henry Foster  The story-teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams  His well-proportioned boyfriend
Gabriel Pack   A most friendly Aussie
Joshua Gibbons  Another friendly Aussie, Gabriel's cousin
Toby Barker    A bright boatie and actor
Louis Mantegnant   Another bright boatie and actor
Charles Fane-Stuart  Research Student and Assistant to the Bursar
Brigadier Robert Taylor  The Bursar
Hon Jeremy (Tosspot) Foskett    A supercilious dilettante student
Boswell Johnson  BA(Cranwell)  The new Servant of the Chapel
Benjamin Mostyn  Organ Scholar [2002]


          25.      A Mysterious Code


I spent Friday morning trying to avoid much of the noise and bustle around
the College by going to the Chapel as soon as Tris left to go to Jacob's
office.  We'd been for our run first thing but saw nobody and nothing of
interest and said we'd better sort the others out for some exercise.  I
played for well over an hour and just got back to the stair when I saw Gabe
and Josh laden with bags, with Liam in tow pulling his trolley, coming
across the Quad.  I was intrigued to know what they thought of their change
of address and said I'd have coffee ready if they just dumped their stuff
and came down.  I knew Charles had said he'd even arranged for the set to
have been given a lick of paint over the vacation and there were some other
tasteful additions as well.  I hadn't enquired, but the sequin encrusted
Sphinx, or perhaps one of those fondly imagined Priapic statues, still
sprung to mind.  It didn't take long for them to dump their things and I'd
just laid out mugs ready and heard the belly laughs before I opened the
door. I didn't even have a chance to ask how the past weeks had been spent.

     "Hiya, old mate," Gabe said as they came in and I'd been given a hug
by him.  He smelled, as usual, of some exotic Eastern aftershave or body
lotion.  Josh smiled and grabbed my arm and gave it a squeeze.  Gabe was in
full flow. "Just saying he'll be pulling that bloody whang of his all day
staring at bloody Clarissa!"

     The normal "Shut up, Gabe," but less agitated at Gabe's usual
straightforward remarks.

     "Go on yer, mate, there's one hanging right by yer bloody bed!  That
and Carry and you won't be having yer bloody wet dreams at all!"

     Oh.  I hadn't registered that the array of Clarissa's photos hadn't
been in evidence yesterday - just the formal portrait.  So, he'd used them
as decor elsewhere.

     "Take no notice of him," said Josh, laughing.  Josh seemed much more
relaxed.  Gabe's jocular gibes at his sexual needs and release seemed now
not to make him almost cringe as they did when we first met last year.
"Did you have a good time in Italy?" he asked, "We ended up there, too."

     I had no chance to answer.  Gabe was off.  "Did the Grand bloody Tour.
Took Lo and he showed us bloody everything.  Started in Paris.  Bloody
wonderful. Queued for a fucking age to see the Mona bloody Lisa.  Worth it.
Found a few good bars around., eh, Josh?  Lo knew where to go, where there
weren't too many bloody Aussies.  Great!"  He laughed.  "Nearly sold that
fucker..." pointing at Josh who put both hands up in defence, "....in a gay
bloody bar in....  Where was it?"  "Prague," said Josh, laughing as well.
"Had the bastard dancing on the counter with some girl he thought.  Turned
out she had a dick like a donk but the tits were real.  Couldn't stop him
after that.  Had to get him some of those little leather shorts in Bavaria
and we got some for Adam...."

     I said he wouldn't be back until Christmas and please drink the
coffee?

     Over that I found they'd criss-crossed Europe either by plane, train
or 'bloody thumb' as towards the end of their marathon trek the three had
hitched from Geneva to Milan in a lorry before ending up in Rapallo at a
villa owned by relations of Lorenzo's.  "Wrong end of Italy," I said.
Still they had soaked up the sun, swam and exercised on a range of
horrendous sounding machines in the basement.  Lorenzo was surrounded by
loving aunts who'd invited them all to visit anytime.

       Tris returned from Jacob's office in time for lunch and we all
trundled over to Hall and Tris heard bits of their tale as we munched
through the abnormal assortment of life- enriching dishes.  As I queued I
could see the chefs busy in the kitchen.  One looked familiar and I thought
I recognised Barry Hall.  As Gabe was chuntering on about whether he
preferred the beef stew or the chicken Kiev I took no more notice and
pointed at the lasagne for me.  A grinning Sean piled a double helping on
my plate which I offered to swap with Gabe who was eyeing his meagre
portion of tasty smelling beef stew with a puzzled look.

     Tris rushed back to the set to get togged up for another stint on his
Basketball Club stall.  Gabe, now replete with lasagne, and Josh went back
to unpack and I sauntered over to see if Fiona and Dina were still on their
stalls.  They were.  I said to Fiona I hadn't seen Oliver.

     "Dad's bringing him up on Sunday," she smiled, "Him and Zack and I
expect Brandon'll tag on as well."

     I didn't like to ask "Crowbars?".  Age-old Cambridge question: "How do
you separate the men from the boys in the Clare/King's/St John's choir?"  I
did ask, "All OK there?"

     "Need you ask!"

     When Tris returned from his stint we did the rounds of the first
sherry gatherings.  We spent ages at the Chaplain's House talking to a
couple of very hunky Freshers and Tris soon had two more converts to
Basketball and I had to warn him, as we left there to go to the Master's
Lodge for the next session, that he wasn't to use his wiles to convert them
to anything else unless I was present.  I noticed they'd also been
encouraged to join the Pub Crawl the next evening.
     I must say the Master did provide some rather nice wine rather than
the sherry we were expecting.  We viewed his pictures and let him get on
haranguing the Freshers.  Both Boswell and Ben came over and we were soon
chatting on about all the generalities of life in College.  As Boswell had
already savoured all three years of life on a campus even if he did live
out in a rented house for his second and third years he had plenty to say
and ask.  Ben asked if we could spend some time on Saturday going through
all his duties once again as the First Year Organ Scholar or could we deal
with any now?  He'd tried to find Drew but said no-one seemed to know when
he was returning.  I said I'd seen him talking to Boswell.

     "Yeah, he was saying he was staying in some Christian Hostel and
preferred it as a base as there were too many unconverted and sacrilegious
people in College and there were few who understood the evil underlying
everything.  I'd heard it all before."

     "So you know him?" said Tris.

     "Yeah, but I hadn't seen him for years.  Well, not since I went to
Cranwell."

     Ben obviously hadn't encountered Drew and was much more interested in
the Christmas Term programme for the Chapel.  "What's the Christmas concert
like?" he asked changing the subject abruptly.

     "I only know about last year's.  Matt Thyssen who was senior Organ
Scholar chose a Bach Cantata.  It turned out OK.  Tris was the tenor
soloist."

     "Bach this year?" he asked.  "Have you heard Carl Phillipe's
Magnificat?"

     I shook my head.

     "I sang in a small group that did it at Easter with some of the local
amateur orchestra.  It's good.  It's about an hour.  Can you get players?"

     I explained that we had access to instrumentalists and he said he'd
sort out getting copies as long as I directed the work and he'd be happy to
play. "OK, that's settled," I said, never to look a gift horse in the
mouth, "As long as Drew doesn't object and anything which doesn't involve
him is preferable."  I was feeling nasty!  "By the way, you'd better check
when he's teaching the Honourable Tosspot as you'll want to keep out of the
way."  I'd seen Jeremy yesterday chatting up a couple of the longer-haired,
unwashed-looking Freshers.  Potheads as Adam would have called them.
Charles had said Tosser had signed up for another desultory year on his
BPhil on nineteenth century literature for pubescent boys or something like
that.  I then had to explain who Tosspot was and they both laughed and said
it sounded like 'Brideshead Revisited' and other tales of Oxbridge life
from the past.

     Both Ben and Boz, as he said he preferred to be called, said they
needed exercise so Saturday morning there were six of us along the towpath
as Gabe and Josh lumbered along behind us.  We did the usual breakfast
thing and all said they'd chip in.  In fact, Boz, with his experience of
living in a house with other students, turned out to be an excellent
'short-order cook' as Gabe labelled him.  All were going on the Freshers'
Saturday night trek and we didn't tell the two new-comers where we would
end up.

     Gabe and Josh, with Lorenzo in tow, plus several of the other boaties
and rugger- buggers were the leaders and a well-pissed tribe of happy male
and female revellers entered the Club as the last visit of the night.  I
saw two of the males take one look at the dancers and beat a hasty retreat.
Probably thought they'd end up being raped or sold into slavery in the
backroom with the 'girls'.

     Out of our usual lot only Batman, Dave and Jonty were there, although
the other buffed-up hangers-on who always eyed our group with interest did
the usual 'His' and hand- waves.

     Of course, we had to explain rather carefully to a very pissed Ben and
a slightly less- pissed Boz that it was actually a Gay Club and some of us
were members.  Boz couldn't have cared less as he said he had been quite
often to a hilarious, or it may have been hairy, pub in Cranwell and had
been propositioned many times.  Ben's girl-friend, who was a vivacious
brunette, was almost as pissed as him but said her Uncle Chas was as gay as
a bald-headed coot and spent the next half-hour downing at least three more
highly coloured and toxic concoctions and trying to remember why
bald-headed coots were gay.  I got the feeling Ben was a little
uncomfortable so I took Penny, the girlfriend, on the floor and did some
sort of slightly legless dance with her.  She was quite legless and I had
tried to moderate my intake as the service the next morning had looked
complicated even though it was the first of the new term.

     When we got back to the booth we were greeted by a laughing foursome
of Fiona, Dina, Louie and Toby.  They were well-oiled, too.  I was dragged,
no, I went willingly, on the floor again by Fiona, who in a very smoochy
number said Zack had let slip he'd been to a club with us and was it this
one?  I said it was and to put her mind at rest he drank Coke and didn't
molest me.  I didn't add 'until later'.  She just laughed and said he
needed people like us to help him adjust.  I said I thought he had very
little adjusting to do.
  I thought to myself he adjusted very well to insertion and how to insert.
I did say he was very level-headed and one of the nicest people I knew.  "I
love my brother very much," she said, "And I think you and Tris do, too."
I just murmured, "Too true!".

     Jonty wanted the next dance.  He was full of beans.  "Thought you'd
turned," he said, as he pressed up against me.  He was rewarded by the
beginnings of, then a full erection pressed against him, "But you haven't!"
Cheeky hound.  He then ground his own engorged dick against mine as he
gyrated his hips to the heavy beat of the music.  I asked him where Danny
was, or I was in great danger of making a mess in my Matteoli cargoes if my
mind wasn't taken off what he was doing to me. "Got something to tell you.
We're over the bloody moon.  He's got a three-month placement at that posh
restaurant in Melbourn just outside Cambridge and his mum and fucking
brother think he's living-in.  But he isn't!" he said triumphantly, "He's
living with me.  God it's good!"

     I found he'd been chosen especially by the owner as his work on the
course was very high quality.  I knew the restaurant.  We'd had a very good
meal there one night just after Adam and Ivo heard their results.  So,
Danny at least was with his Jonty.  That reminded me.  I supposed that
could have been Barry Hall in chef's whites in our College kitchen.  He'd
need a placement, too.  I hadn't phoned to see if he wanted to come to the
Club tonight as the student throng might have put him off.  Next week?
Anyway, there was an invitation to Sunday lunch tomorrow at Jacob's.  Find
out more then.  I looked at Tris to see he wasn't too drunk to sober up by
the morning.  He looked OK and was on the floor with some nice looking,
male, Fresher dancing with him.  It looked like the hydrangea-lurker.  Must
be Pretty or Awful, I mean Orford.  Oh ho!  Might find out the basis for
the animosity in due course.

     We got Boz and Ben, with Penny clutching at him, at Tris and at me,
back to College.  Last we saw of Ben was Penny trying to put his key in the
lock.  As the key was attached to a chain on his jeans I forbore to look as
she yanked rather heavily and he yelped as the fabric must have been rather
constrictive.

     Only Tris, me and Gabe appeared in the morning for the run.  He said
the last he'd seen of Josh was Carry helping him along the road to the flat
she'd moved into.  He said Lorenzo had been too pissed to raise his little
bloody finger let along his bloody dick last night so he'd employed Mrs
Palm for relief.  I must say Gabe was most forthright about his sexual
habits and employed a range of euphemistic terminology in his descriptions.
As on a previous occasion: "Bloody Lo, in full fathom five last night, got
a bloody whanger like a baby's arm with an apple in its fist!  Tickled my
bloody kidneys I should think."  Tris hadn't helped matters then by asking
if it was a Golden Delicious or a Cox's Orange Pippin.

     "You'd fucking know if you had it stuck in yer bloody gob!  Suck the
bloody juice outta that, I'd say!"

     Gabe was a strange dichotomy.  Vulgar, blunt and direct without any
inhibitions about his own or any one else's sexual life, but also a very
caring, thoughtful person.  Josh was supposed to be his minder.  They
minded for each other.  Then on the other hand, Gabe was highly intelligent
and a very diligent student.  Cambridge really had brought a focus to his
intellect.  His discussions with Charles on the Philosophy he was studying
left me reeling.  He was also taking Logic as a special option and even
Charles had done little on that.  We had several sessions on this ourselves
as I was fascinated by the way one could manipulate the symbols and the
proofs.  I wanted to follow this even further and Professor Tanner gave me
a couple of tutorials on it which whetted my appetite even more.

     Sunday lunch, prepared by Barry, carved by yours truly, was as usual,
superb.  Yes, he was in our kitchens and enjoying preparing special dishes
for some of the elderly dons whose teeth weren't what they used to be.  At
least, that was what James Tanner said.  Barry told me while we were in the
kitchen there were plenty of opportunities as the Master had put in a list
of dinner parties he was hosting and dons in and out of College did the
same.  "Plenty of perks," he said, "But mustn't keep tasting the gravy!"
He held up the bottle of red wine, some of which he was adding to the stock
before thickening it.  "It's OK, Mark, I'm being a very good boy these days
even when the second chef grabs me and asks if I'd give him a quick one."

     "How do you get out of that?"

     He laughed.  "He's got one of the other under-chefs at home.  He just
does it to tease him."

     I asked if he was available at week-ends and we laughed and I had to
say "Not like that!", and he said he was mostly as he was only doing a few
of the evening meals.  Transport?  "Dad's bought me a motor-bike so I'm OK
now.  That's the best reason for not drinking.  Dude's given me a few more
lessons and I'm doing the last tests next Saturday.  Dude's great."

     Yes, that set me off thinking.  Poor Adam.  Tris seemed to deal with
most of our e- mail traffic and Adam had sent one on Saturday saying give
his regards (meaning love, we assumed) to Dude.  Unfortunately Dude wasn't
there so Tris forwarded the message to him - at his personal address not
the generic police one.  Important as there was a rather non-PC cartoon as
an attachment.

     The 'staircase' seemed to gel well.  As well as everyone, except
Charles, going for the morning runs most days and breakfasting afterwards
we also instituted the 'Nine o'clock Knock'.  This was a general invitation
for anyone at a loose end to knock on our door at that hour in the evening
and come in for a drink and a chat.  It worked out that either I or Tris,
or both were generally around at that hour and by that time people wanted a
break.  We made a rule that the gathering broke up by eleven-thirty at the
latest each evening, for those who still had to burn the midnight oil, but
also for those whose bed called.

     These gatherings became highly popular and we gossiped, exchanged
views, moaned and generally let off verbal steam.  All fuelled by a drink
or two and a nibble of this or that.  Charles could always be relied on
having something tasty delivered, usually from Harrods at Mother's command.

     Charles was also a prime source of gossip.  As a, query, trusted
member of the administration as such, given his arse-licking, as Gabriel
termed it, of the Bursar, he heard all sorts of snippets which were
gleefully digested by the rest of us.  His imitations of the rather
air-headed Mrs Chalfont-Meade were a sight to behold and we had to warn him
not to include any of her more stupid misconceptions or statements in any
of his future Clarissa productions.

     "My treasures," he said one night, as he came in, bearing a bottle of
something nice and a box of assorted goodies, "Guess what, the poor old
soul wanted to know this afternoon if dear old Dr Mitchelson could be
refunded for the condoms he'd inadvertently purchased from the machine in
the gentlemen's lavatory as he thought it was dispensing chewing-gum.  I
asked if he'd chewed any and she said she'd have to ask him."

     His discussions with Gabe or Boz were always full of interest as he
often had stretches of Latin coming up in his transcriptions of the
Servants of the Chapel logs.  One of these occurred about three weeks into
the term.  Charles that evening was quite distraught.

     "The more I read, the more I despair," he said, "Those poor dears
never knowing who would be carted off next, or get the chop.  I read today
of the Abbot of Colchester, who must have been quite close to the College
in his allegiance, being foully murdered after being accused of treason in
1539.  Then the Abbot of Crowland is reported as sending a gift of fish to
that despicable Thomas Cromwell and his Abbey got the chop in 1539, too.
Earlier there are passages in Latin, which with my feeble acquaintance with
that noble tongue, make no sense for me.  Gabriel my pet, your assistance
is required.  I know this is a convivial gathering but there may be
important things to unravel."

     Gabriel, who was quite un-pet like, unless a hairy, shaggy yak was
your idea of a fireside companion, laughed.  No, I'm being nasty.  But you
petted Gabriel carefully although his bark was twenty times worse than his
bite.

     "Spit it bloody out," he said, "What d'yer want now?  We all know you
went to that bloody Trade School."

     This was the usual gibe against Charles's Public School, albeit a very
minor Public School, education compared with Gabe's very solid, very
formidable, Australian Grammar School education.

     "My dear, I must reiterate," said Charles repeating his usual
plaintive reproach of the iniquities of his Alma Mater, "We got no further
than amo, amas, amat, and that was delivered to us in no loving way except
when Dotty Prendergast invited us individually into the stockroom to hear
our declensions.  I am reminded that this must have been the way of
education for centuries given what I disclosed about that ghastly
Grossteste and his habits."

     "Well, get on with it, what do you want to bloody know," said Gabe,
whose knowledge of Latin was quite extensive and, obviously, had been
absorbed by someone who liked and revelled in the subject.

     Charles didn't produce his usual notebook but several photo-copied
pages.

     "My dears," he said, passing round sheets of paper, "I thought it best
to take advantage of Mrs Chalfont-Meade's absence from her place of duty
while she powdered her nose as she so euphemistically accounts for her
lengthy disappearances.  I have mastered the machine and I hope all is
clear."  He held up a copy.  "This is an earlier passage from the report of
the Servant when times were particularly bad.  He records this in May 1534
'There is turmoil for Hast and Perkin did visit but privily and did say the
treasures of C and S were forfeit but they propose a scheme', and then in
July 1534 he writes 'Leigh has been by order and has seen ought.  He has
authority but there is dissent..'  This Leigh was sent by Henry to
ascertain the wealth of the monasteries he was proposing to sequester and
was adept at sniffing out where the treasures lay.  The record after that
has been scratched out and all I can make out are the words 'some plate and
money'.  Now this is where Gabriel, or Boz, if the going becomes rough,
will be of assistance.."

     We were now looking at the photo-copied sheets which were facsimiles
of the originals and then a typewritten transcription.  The originals were
in a looping, small, round hand and needed careful consideration to make
out the actual words.  Tris and I were sharing and I looked particularly at
the typed-up sheet.  I could see that Charles had copied the exact layout
of the originals in his transcription.  Tris drew his finger along each
line as we read them through mouthing the words.

     Vox audita perit sed littera manet ex auctoritate mihi commissa ab
obscurnum per obscurius
          Let there be light

     Under this was a series of single capital letters.  I counted seven
letters in each row and eleven rows.

     O Q I T H N P
     L N Z B A O L
     J Q D P Q O F
     I V H A A H I
     L D Q F E S D
     P Q N Q E A F
     J B P Q E L O
     P P Q P F E L
     G L J Z J Z F
     P F M Q H T I
     H G Q E H N F

     Gabe was looking quite triumphant.  "That Latin's easy.  They're
quotes or usual phrases used in documents.  Not very good Latin and it's a
bit bloody crazy.
  Here goes, I think the first line is 'The heard word is lost but the
written word is held'.  Let's leave what it means and try the second.  That
first is a phrase 'by the authority invested in me' and then it's 'explain
the hidden by the more hidden', or it could mean 'obscure'."  He looked up
and Charles nodded.  "Then it's odd the next line's in English, 'Let there
be light' that's 'Fiat bloody lux' in Latin.  Any bloody use?"

     Charles smiled.  "As usual, you have made the light shine....  But
what of all those letters?"

     I jumped in with both feet.  "It's a code.  I think it's in sevens
because that was a magical or sacred number."

     Ben laughed, "Yep, old Isaac Newton said he saw seven colours in the
spectrum but blowed if I've ever seen indigo."

     Boz was making notes on his copy.  "Let's go back first.  It might
give us a clue.  I guess that first line just means it's no good telling
anyone as things get forgotten but he's following tradition as the Servant
by writing it down.  It's his authority, or perhaps duty and he's given his
message hidden..."

     "..You mean he's hidden the meaning as there's something hidden?" said
Tris.  He turned to me.  "Come on, Brainbox, you were reading that book all
about codes at the Villa."

     I had.  In fact, I'd read two particular books by the same author, one
about Fermat's Last Theorem and the other on code-making and code-breaking.
I hadn't got round to having a go at the codes he had given at the end of
the book.  But...

     "I would think he's given the location of something and if we can find
out the type of code we should be able to solve it."

     "Type of code?" asked Ben.

     "Yes, there's all types of codes.  You've heard of Enigma?"  Everyone
nodded.  "That was a difficult one to crack as it was both logical and
mechanical.  But I think we ought to look at this as the type of code which
people might know about at the time."

     Josh had remained silent.  "Didn't they use to write things on strips
and wind them round a stick."

     I nodded.  "Yes, and you had to have two identical sticks so you could
get the message back.  But the easier way was to just use letter
substitution, like pushing the alphabet on a letter.."

     "We used to do that in class," said Boz laughing, "That was until our
maths master intercepted a couple of notes and within minutes read he was
accused of shagging the cook who was ugly as sin.  All he said was he would
have thought his pupils had more respect for his judgement and spent the
rest of the lesson showing us a special French code.  That was too
complicated as you had to make up a big grid first.  I think we lost
interest after that."

     Tris was counting something.  "There's seventy-seven letters in that
grid here and ten of them are Q.  If it's just changing the alphabet isn't
there something about letter frequency?  Isn't E the most frequent letter
in English?"

     "That's true," said Gabe, "But if the first bit is in Latin the
message might not be in English.  You see, if you look through there isn't
a K, or a W, or a Y.  Those letters don't appear in the Latin alphabet.  I
think we ought to see what letters are used." he laughed.  "This is good.
I never knew learning Latin would have excitements."

     "If it's Latin then E is the most frequent there, too," chipped in
Boz.
  "Doesn't help a lot other than Q might stand for E.  And you're not
likely to have a message only in seven letter words."

     "But why should it be across?  Could be seven columns of eleven?  And
you would have to sort out the words," said Josh.

     "Best thing to do to start is to make grids of the alphabet and see if
it shifts on one or more letters," I said. "How many letters in the Latin
one, Boz?"

     "Depends," he said, "Either twenty-two or twenty-three.  I and J are
usually the same."  He scanned the text.  "But there's an I in the first
line and a J in the third line from the bottom so I guess twenty-three."

     "Just need two strips of paper," I said, "And slide them along.."

     We all must have had a go and got nowhere so the project went off the
boil but we heard more of the sometimes quite hilarious and, at other
times, quite frightening happenings in College during those fateful years
in the mid-1500's.  So, term went on and with everything else I was very
busy practising for my recital for the end of November.  Varied but
interesting.  Nothing to frighten the horses!

     I discussed my proposed programme with Lewis and he suggested I
finished with the Bach Passacaglia and Fugue in c minor.  I had been going
through this with him in great detail and I thought I might just about
manage a reasonable performance.  It was also a favourite for Fellowship
exams and I hadn't decided yet.  Something lively to begin.  Lewis and Ben
both thought the Mendelssohn Prelude and Fugue in d minor would be ideal.
A couple of short pieces next.  A Voluntary by Handel would show off the
rather nice Trumpet stop in the Andante and the gorgeous 8 foot Flute on
the Choir as contrast with the Swell as the Echo.  The Fugue in B flat by
him would be next.  I was determined to have a French middle.  I loved the
Franck Cantabile but decided on the longer Fantaisie in C.  Tris was
insistent I played the Alain Deuxieme Fantaisie next as he was certain that
had clinched me getting the Scholarship.  But I would play Alain's Le
Jardin Suspendu first.
  Finally the Bach!  All told just under fifty five minutes with a
following wind!  Six o'clock start and all over for second sitting for
dinner in Hall for those who were hungry.

     Several things happened very suddenly.  The schools half-term came and
Zack appeared as Frankie had last year.  With everyone's connivance he
stayed in Oliver's set and joined in our nightly discussions with such
aplomb and assurance it was almost as if he were a student already.  He
asked me to give him a few tests of his mathematical ability as he would
like apply to read Maths, if not Law.  Did I think he'd be good enough.  I
did the James Tanner thing as Zack was also just in the First Year Sixth.
Yep, he passed with flying colours the same questions I'd been given but at
an even earlier stage of his Sixth Form studies.  From the happy look on
Oliver's face when they were together I guessed there were other abilities
being tested and found more than adequate.  When he was ready to go on the
Sunday afternoon he hugged both Tris and me and said he would never forget
those nights at the Villa and, please, would we come to his eighteenth
birthday party in the second week of January.

     On that Sunday it had been my turn to accompany the morning service.
As usual, during the sermon I was thinking through the last hymn and my
out-going piece and also contemplating whether I'd be good enough to give
the recital, when I was struck by what the clergyman giving the sermon was
saying.  It wasn't the Chaplain this morning but an old student on leave
from a mission school in India.  His theme was 'Light' and the way in which
this word was not only used in theological terms but also in educational
terms.  He said the earliest occurrence in the Bible was in the second
verse of Genesis - Fiat Lux - Let There Be Light.  He went on to say the
little Epitaph that Alexander Pope suggested.
  'Nature, and Nature's Laws lay hid in night: God said, Let Newton Be!
And there was light'.  I didn't listen to the rest my mind was ajangle.

     After the abortive attempts at solving the letter code I'd gone back
to the book on codes and had wondered if it was an example of having to
start by using a word or phrase.  But what could it be?  I wondered if I
had been handed a vital clue in the sermon.  It was Gabe who had remarked
that 'Let There Be Light' was in English, the rest had been in Latin.  At
the time I'd been put off the track by his interpolated Aussie 'bloody'
when he'd translated it as 'Fiat bloody Lux'.  But sevens.  OK Newton was
born a hundred years later but he was seven mad.  'Fiat Lux'.  Seven
letters.  Eleven rows of seven letters.  Key word or phrase!

     I found an old hymn-sheet, blank on the back, and made two rows.
Latin alphabet.  What did Boz and Gabe say, twenty-three letters, no K, W
or Y.  I wrote those along the top.  Then, remembering what it said in the
book I wrote FIATLUX under the first seven letters and continued with Z
under the H in the top row, then B and so on, until I had exhausted all the
letters not in FIATLUX.  I surveyed my listing just as I heard the preacher
say 'And to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, Amen'.  It
was automatic.  Get ready for the last hymn!

     I didn't think anymore about it until the evening because of the lunch
for Zack and his departure.  I scrabbled around in my study and found the
photo-copy of the transcription.  I wrote out my two rows again neatly:

A B C D E F G H I J L M N O P Q R S T U V X Z

F I A T L U X Z B C D E G H J M N O P Q S U V

     I looked at the first seven letters on the photo-copy:

     O Q I T H N P

     I found O in my second row with S above and did the seven:

     S U B D O R T

     Wow!  SUB was a Latin word I knew.  'Under'!  But was it just another
letter sequence.

     I set out the other ten rows underneath:

     L N Z B A O L
     E R H I C S E

     J Q D P Q O F
     P U L T U S A

     I V H A A H I
     B Z O C C O B

     L D Q F E S D
     E L U A M U L

     P Q N Q E A F
     T U R U M C A

     J B P Q E L O
     P I T U M E S

     P P Q P F E L
     T T U T A M E

     G L J Z J Z F
     N E P H P H A

     P F M Q H T I
     T A Q U O D B

     H G Q E H N F
     O N U M O R A

     What the hell did it mean?  At least I thought I was on to something.
All those Q's became U's and I knew there were plenty of U's in Latin
words.  I recognised QUOD.  Q.E.D., Quod erat demonstrandum - which was to
be proved - at the end of old Geometry theorems.  Oh, yes, TUTAMEN looked
familiar.  I found a pound coin and there it was, engraved on the edge,
DECUS ET TUTAMEN.  Something about a shield I thought.
  And HIC.  I grinned.  The tablet on the wall in the Chapel when Safar
asked me to hit A.  HIC JACET it said.  I knew that was 'Here lies'.  I was
getting rather excited.  I called out to Tris who was reading some Law book
in the bedroom.

     "I need you, urgently!" I called out.

     "As always, bollockbrain," he yelled back, "Keep it in your pants
until later!  I'm horny, too, but busy!"

     'Twat', I thought, he's the one with the one-track mind.  I picked up
the bits of paper and went and disturbed him.  "I haven't even got a
hard-on," I said and forestalled a response such as 'most unusual' by
plonking the sheets on his desk in front of him.  "But take a look at this.
I think I may have cracked the code."  I showed him and explained about the
sermon and the clue.

     He looked.  He agreed.  He got excited, too.  "You need to write it
out as one long line and then get Gabe or Boz to look at it.  You are a
cleverclogs sometimes."  He stood up and hugged me and felt the front of my
trousers.  "Yeah, you must be excited about that as you haven't got your
usual stiffy." He laughed.  "Takes a lot to keep your mind off that organ!"

     We contained our joint excitement and waited for the 'Nine o'clock
Knock'.  We knew all would be assembled as Charles had said Mother had sent
a couple of bottles of the Widow - 'Veuve Clicquot' - and these were
residing in our fridge ready for opening.  If I was right it would be a
celebration and also help Oliver to get over missing Zack's company until
Christmas.  In the meantime I scribbled out six copies of the code and my
solution under it.

     Charles was in a bubbly mood as he came in.  Not only because of the
expectation of the bubbly in the fridge, but because Mrs Brigadier - as he
called the Bursar's wife - had announced, over the lunch he had been having
with them, that she wanted to retire to Somerset to be nearer their
grandchildren and would probably get the Brigadier on the move in two
year's time.  When all were seated and the bottles opened and eight glasses
filled there was first, a toast to the Bursar's going; second, a toast to
Charles's brown-nose efforts - to which he objected saying it was his
merits being judged he hoped; and finally, third, to Oliver and Zack, God
Bless their little cotton socks - because that's about all they wear in
bed, from Tris - shushed by Josh, who said no wonder, as he always found
the duvets to be extra warm.  So as everyone was getting effervescent I
thought it time to break the news.  But Tris got in first.

     "Mark's got something to show you.  And I'm being serious, I think
he's onto something.  He thinks he's cracked the code!"

     That did it.  I handed out the pieces of paper.  There were a couple
of
  'Wows!', an 'Oh my God' and a tremendous 'BLOOODY HELL' from Gabe.

     "You're right, you clever little fucker!" he said.  "Give me a moment
I need a pencil."

     Tris gave him one.  He made a number of slashes on the page as he
mouthed through.  I saw Boz was nodding.  His Latin was good, too, as he
was busy translating loads of Templar records.

     Gabe looked across at Boz.  "Who'll start?  I think I've got most of
it."

     "You'd better," said Boz, "You've been in it from the beginning."

     "OK.  I think Mark's got it right.  I read it like this, 'Sub Dorter
hic sepultus', that's 'under the dormitory lies buried'.  Right, Boz?"  He
nodded.  "'Ab zocco belua multum capitum'.  Not sure of 'zocco' but the
other is the usual description of the populace 'monster of many heads'."

     "Yes, I know that description," said Boz, "Let me go and get my Latin
dictionary, that other's an odd word and it may be wrongly transcribed."

     He scooted off and we waited the few moments before he was back.
"Can't see it.  Might be 'socco', that's a diminutive of the word for
'shoe' or, here it is, a 'plinth'.  So that's 'from the plinth'."

     "Good on yer, mate," said Gabe.  "That 'est tutamen' probably means
'is guarded by', 'tutamen' means a shield normally."  Good, I was right.
"I don't know that sequence before 'quod bonum ora'.  That last bit is 'may
it be right' and 'pray' or 'I pray'."

     "I think I know that other word, it's 'ephphata'," said Ben.  "Dad's
preached on it more than once.  It's not Latin, I know.  Let me think.  It
was when he healed the deaf man, I'm sure.  Hold on, I'll phone Penny, she
should know."  Oh yes, the vivacious Penny, his girlfriend, was reading
Theology.  He dug out his mobile and there was a hurried conversation and
we heard the shrieks of laughter at the other end.  He switched off.
"They're all rather amused we're having a theological discussion, they're
just deciding whether Brad Pitt or Leonardo di Caprio would be best to be
marooned with on a desert isle."

     "I'd have either," said Tris, "But I'd want to check first which one
was the better cook!"

     Sneers all round.  I would check later that he did say 'cook'.  Wasn't
it Clinton who said 'sack my cook' and was misheard?

     "Well, my precious, what did she say?" asked Charles, who had been
making copious notes on all the preceding.

     Ben laughed.  "Yes, she knew it.  It's Aramaic she thinks and I was
right.  Jesus says it when he touches the deaf man's ears, 'Let it be
opened'."  He looked at his own scribbled notes.  "It fits."

     We all looked at Gabe.  "Let's read it though, then, and see if it
makes sense," he said.  "'Under the dormitory, here lies buried, by the
plinth with many heads it is guarded, let it be opened, may it be right, I
pray.'  A bit garbled but it looks as if something is hidden.  But where?"

     He looked at Charles.  "My dears, I am stunned," he said, his hands
went up, palms out, "Mark, your brains and your beauty are as one.  I thank
you from the bottom of my most generous heart.  And you, Gabriel.  Your
erudition is superb."

     "But where's this dormitory?" asked Boz, "Is it in the College?"

     Charles stroked his chin.  "There must be some old drawings of what
the College buildings looked like around that time, dear one.  I guess the
students slept all hugger-mugger in a dormitory, or perhaps more than one
dormitory in the place.  I'll have to check with the Librarian to see what
is in the archives.  My job, my sweets, my job."

     We all had another drink and 'cleverclogs' was toasted specially.

     The next two things occurred the next day.  I'd been very busy, what
with two lectures, discussions with the girls, a two-hour tutorial with
James, as I was now calling him, and an approach from Mr Orford, first name
I found was Philip, for a little help with some rather tricky looking
questions in Probability.  I knew the feeling.  You either see the solution
more or less right away or you can go round in circles.  The particular one
which was bugging him and his pals involved drawing different coloured
balls from a bag, or from a succession of bags, and what was the
probability of drawing the same number of balls...  It just went on and on
like most of these questions did.  We came to a sensible conclusion which
coincided with the one he'd originally thought, but one of his pals argued
against.  Anyway, when we finished I asked him if he liked being in the
choir.  He nodded enthusiastically and said he enjoyed singing and it
really was a well-run choir.  As Ben and I shared the rehearsals I took
that as a compliment.  Drew's group relied on 'complete inclusivity' so no
anthems or choir items, just plenty of 'worship songs'.  I said we needed a
bass solist for the CPE Bach we were proposing to do at Christmas and now
that my cousin had graduated the other three basses were not too confident
about singing solos.  Would he audition?  He'd be pleased to, as he'd sung
a lot in his church.  I thought I would enquire further.  "Same one as Mr
Pretty?"

     His face fell.  "Yes, but Martin won't even speak to me now."

     In for a penny...  "I know about not sharing....."

     "If I tell you?"

     He was clearly upset.

     "Just tell me," I said, "Or should you talk to the Chaplain."

     "No... ...It's really Martin and what he thinks.  He's dead scared if
we'd shared people at home might have thought..."

     "What would they have thought?"

     "Oh!  Full story.  Martin's brother is gay.  His mother and father
have chucked him out.  Well, not really, he lives in Manchester now with
his boyfriend and after he told them that, they won't even have him to
visit them.  Martin was scared if we'd shared his Mum and Dad might have
thought it was because he was gay as well."

     "Is he?"

     He shook his head.  "Neither am I, and we've been best pals for years.
He thinks I applied to share so he blames me.  I did say on the form I
wouldn't mind sharing but I didn't say share with him."

     "It's been a great big misunderstanding," I said, "It's Charles.  He
saw school, address, post-code and you wouldn't mind sharing and probably
didn't note that Martin didn't tick that box."

     "Yeah and when that chap, Charles, started to call us 'darling this'
and 'darling that' it scared the pants off him."

     Rather nice if he had been gay!  I thought, or even if not.  Martin
Pretty had a pretty nice figure.  "Should I talk to him?  I need a tenor
soloist but that's likely to be my friend Tris Price-Williams."

     "He's the blond one you share with."

     Now or never.  "Yes, we share everything.  We've done that since I was
fourteen and he was fifteen and we're next-door neighbours at home, too."

     "You mean..., you and he....?"

     I nodded and smiled.  "Yes.  And families and friends have accepted
us.
  I hope Martin doesn't desert his brother."

     "No, it's just the labelling.  His Mum and Dad don't understand and
they don't want to know.  Martin keeps in touch by e-mail I know.  And I
liked Geoff very much.  He didn't even act gay."

     "Would you have known about Tris and me?"

     He laughed.  "No!  You and your friend always have those girls hanging
around and those huge blokes in the choir are always there."

     "Louie and Toby, two of our tenors.  They share.  In fact they took
over the set you and Martin were supposed to have."

     I did have a chance to talk to Martin.  I explained the mix-up.  Next
evening the pair were sitting together in the Students' Combination Room
having a drink together.  Charles had better watch if boxes are ticked or
not.

     He'd just gone when Tris came bowling in.  He was laughing and handed
me a couple of pages of print-out.  "Just printed this off for you.  Little
brother tries to be hip, hop, rap or whatever, but can't keep it
up.... ...OK, OK, I know what you're going to say!!"

     I put the sheets on the table and started reading; Oh, my God!  No, it
got better after the opening salvo.

          'Yo, ma main man Tris, yeah you, homeboy, jest you tell that bro
a mine he be freaking out wicked I gonna tell you.
     That is, tell Marky Gran's got lots of stuff and she says I'd better
get my diploma or she'll kick the examiners to death.  I have learned a
lot.  Madam Keech is good but it was nice to have someone else and she's
strict.  Showed me a good way for sixths in the left hand which I've never
got right properly before.
     There's letters and photos going back a long way.  Great-grandma was
Noelle Mellier, born Christmas Day 1901.  She had a twin sister Caroline.
They came over to England I guess in 1920 and were governesses in two
houses at the north end of Lincolnshire.  Must be near that Ulvescott place
I would think from the addresses on letters.  She married great-grandad
Gordon Foster in 1921 and there's a birth cert and a death cert for Albert
born six months after they married.  Grandma just laughed and said it
happens.  I think she meant the birth - yes, I know!  Grandad Henry Foster
was born in 1923.  The marriage cert says her father was Phillippe Mellier,
hotelier.  There's a couple of letters in French with a hotel address in
Riom near Clermont-Ferrand.  Gran said they visited the hotel when Grandad
was at the Embassy in Paris.  Small but very nice.  No Melliers though.
     There's lots of letters from her sister all in French.  She married
someone called James Gratten and it must have been about the same time as
Noelle.  She had a son John and it looks as if he was born in 1922.
     Noelle Marie Elisabeth Foster died in 1936.  Her death cert says she
had cancer.  There's a letter of condolence to 'My Friend Gordon' from
Augustus Pennefather MA FRCO and another photo of Grandad as a chorister in
the envelope.  There's a letter also from Caroline to great-grandad and
that was in good English and that mentioned her son John as well.  It said
he was a good scholar and had won a prize for chess.  I couldn't find an
album like the one we saw but Gran says there's loads more stuff in the
loft and you'd better come down and have a look.
               Peace, Truffles.  (And none of that kissy stuff to follow!)

     I laughed.  "I sometimes have a feeling there's an alert little brain
ticking away in there somewhere.  He's clear and succinct.  I'll ask Adam
when he comes back to do some checking at that Records Office place in
London he's going to.  They have all the Births, Deaths and Marriages in
indexes there he says."

     "What about the French side?"

     "If he was an hotelier I expect there would be guides for the region.
And I expect there would be records in the town halls.  I know, as soon as
the exams are over in the summer we could go over by Eurostar and I bet
there's a good train service down to wherever."  I looked at the e-mail
again.  "Clermont-Ferrand.  It's somewhere down the middle of France.  My
treat.  I've still got lots of Uncle Francesco's euros to spend.  Hope your
French is good enough!"

To be Continued: