Date: Mon, 19 Feb 2007 22:14:18 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's:  29a

		      Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's

				    by

				   Joel

             Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:
Mark Henry Foster          The storyteller
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams  His well-proportioned boyfriend
Francis Michael [Microbe] Foster  Alias Toad
Angus Alexander McKenzie (Zack)   A young man with panache
Brandon McKenzie  His younger brother
Fiona McKenzie His elder sister
Dina Patel A friend of Louis
Toby Barker   A bright boatie and actor
Louis Mantegnant  Another bright boatie and actor
Ivo Richie Carr   Mark's cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it
Adam Benjamin Carr    Ditto, as his twin
Oliver Jensen   A Musical undergraduate with allure
Edward Jensen  Oliver's younger brother with extra allure
Charles Fane-Stuart  The 'Bursar-in-Waiting'!
Jason Knott   A newly minted Porter
Liam Moore  A Lodge Boy
Sean O'Malley   Servery lad and Lodge Boy
Curt Stein  Another Servery lad and an habitue of the Club


          29.           Zack's Party then Cambridge.  Wow!    (Part One)

     Frankie was back to school in the morning, resplendent in Prefectural
blazer.  We had the rest of the week but wanted to get back to Cambridge on
Sunday after Zack's party.  It was to be the usual eighteenth birthday
affair - the local Parish Hall, eats, drinks and disco....  Zack, ne Angus
Alexander McKenzie, was eighteen!  A man now as far as the law was
concerned.

     We arranged to go to Barnet by tube train where Fiona, bless her
heart, would meet us and drive us to Arkley.  We would have a grand
sleepover and Dad would drive up next day to take us to Cambridge.

     Of course, Oliver and Eddie were already there.  A gaggle of Zack's
friends, male mainly, from the Grammar School the boys attended, plus
sundry girlfriends, rolled up well in time.  Tris and I were surrounded as
the finding of the body had been hot news when Zack had told his pals we
were involved.  Zack was obviously popular and I saw at least two of the
girls eyeing him up speculatively.  As we'd given him some of the latest
Matteoli products for trendy young men he'd changed into them for the party
and Brandon insisted on wearing the latest full outfit Uncle Francesco had
designed for an American tennis prodigy.  Frankie and Steady Eddie were
well away.  They had 'the chicks' as Frankie insisted on calling them,
falling over the pair.  They danced to the noisy disco all evening and were
busy chatting up any female who came near them.  From snatches of his
conversations as he brought young ladies over to ply them with another
drink - soft mainly - I could see why Gobbo was the perfect nickname for
him as bestowed by his friends.  Dina was there with her young brother,
Lucas.  A slim, good-looking lad who also never seemed to lack a partner.
Of course, figures of awe for the mainly Sixth Formers, were Toby and
Louie, large and impressive and full of bounce and good humour.

     Commander McKenzie and his wife were there, with other relatives, and
we told them a bit of our adventures at Ulvescott as well as giving the
Commander our version of the finding of Aubrey Devereux.  "Yes," he said,
"I often wondered what really happened to old Augustus and to think I was
living on top of that cellar for three years with his killer in it.  No, I
never felt I was haunted!"

     The sleepover was hilarious.  I think there were eight, or maybe nine,
male bodies strewn in borrowed sleeping bags or rolls of blankets over the
floor and in Zack's bed.  As I was emerging, rather groggily, from my bag
in the morning to visit the lav, Louie poked me in the back.  "Wait till I
tell my lot I slept with two nice gay guys during the vac!"  His lot, I
assumed were his rowing pals.  What he'd got wrong was that he had slept
with at least four nice gay guys as Oliver and Zack were still snoring on
top of the bed.

     Dad turned up in good time just after lunch and he had all our bags
already in the boot.  Frankie had been almost jumping up and down all
morning as he was going to pull the stop that opened the secret door.  When
he started on about it again in the car I threatened not to show him how to
get out if he misbehaved.  I'm sure Dad heard the 'Bollocks!' from beside
me on the back seat of the Volvo.  He shut up and said nothing more until
we drew up at the back gate of the College.  We left the bags in the car
and went in and up to the Porter's Lodge.  There ranged behind the counter
were Charles and Jason with a cheerful Liam in the background.

     "My dears," said Charles, "Welcome back.  Mr Foster it is so good to
see you."  This to Dad who was standing back looking amused.  Frankie was
congratulating Jason on his promotion and eyeing Liam to see if he had more
spots I was sure.  Charles was waving his hands, attention was needed.
"There is a large crate delivered and placed in your set.  Mr Tomkins was
quite sure it was a coffin after the last incident but I disabused him of
that misapprehension and suggested it was some type of musical instrument.
It says fragile and handle with care."

     He was angling for an explanation.  The instructions I had received
were to get in touch with a firm in Cambridge who would unpack it, set it
up and arrange to have it tuned again.  Luckily my big room was large
enough to accommodate it and the grand piano and it would be just perfect
for concerts in the Chapel as it was easily moveable.

     "It's a harpsichord," I said quite simply.  "I've been given it as a
present and I'll tell you everything that's happened in all good time."

     Liam went off with the trolley to unload our bags and we went along to
our set.  All looked just as we had left it in December.  Tris went off to
the kitchen and did the first thing one always did - put the kettle on.
Dad was inspecting the row of organ stops and laughing as Frankie was
jumping up and down even more by the time Liam came back and our bags were
safely brought in.  I was particularly puzzled by an extra one which was
rather heavy and must have belonged to Tris.

     At long last I gave Frankie the instruction of what to do.  "Pull the
Gambe slowly until you hear three clicks."  He did this.  There was a 'Wow'
as the panelling opened and the inner door was revealed.  I leaned in as
the door was pushed open and switched on the darkroom light.  We had a
stool which we put to prevent the door from closing and armed with the two
torches we let Frankie lead the way into the upper passageway with the
darkroom and the big side-room with it's now-empty shelves.

     "The electrical contractor is coming on Wednesday to install proper
lighting here and down into the cellar as well," announced Charles, "The
Brigadier has authorised the expense from the Pennefather account as he
says it is part of this set and comes within the remit of the Pennefather
Bequest."

     Tris nudged me.  "Bet Charles told him that."

     "My dear, the Brigadier is always open to good advice when freely and
generously given," said Charles with a hint of tartness in his voice.

     "Has Jason found anything with his metal detector?" I asked, stifling
a laugh at Tris having been reprimanded so severely!

     "Precious ones, that has been a sorry enterprise so far.  I return
from Venice to find half the turf has been removed," His left hand was
flicked derisively.  "And a great heap of sundry objects laid out for
inspection.  At least there was a guinea piece from 1846 and quite a
collection of small coinage, but nothing much of any great interest or
value, other than discarded piping taken by a Metallurgy don as he wished
to analyse it.  There was one thing, however...," The finger went to the
side of his nose. "...Which I keep on my person until it is valued and
deposited somewhere.  I will show you once we return.."

     We filed down the stairs with the torches showing the bare stone walls
and the stone- flagged floor.  "We are most curious how dry the place has
remained.  We are having an inspection sometime but the consensus of
opinion is that there is a constant flow of air somehow regulated which
realizes some equilibrium.  This would account for the mummification of
that unfortunate man."  He pointed his torch upwards.  "There are small
vents there as you can see."

     "Is that anything to do with the noises in the wall I've heard," asked
Frankie.  "When I slept in Tris's room last year that scared me."

     "Perhaps," said Charles, "But we will have to wait for the
investigation.  All I know is that Dr Matthews has pointed out the College
itself is built on a slight mound so water would not seep from the river
and that level has been lowered over the years in any case."

     I looked at Tris.  He was smiling.  I bet he'd had the same thought as
me.  If there was a cellar here, was there one under Charles' set as well.
A question to raise in all good time.

     Frankie was all abuzz when we got back up into my main room.  "What
will you use all that for?"

     Charles shook his head.  "No decision has been made on that at
present.
  So far, it is part of this set and it up to the Pennefather Scholar to
decide until then."

     "Good place for a disco," said Toad, "Wouldn't disturb the neighbours
with walls that thick.  Two quid a time entry, you'd make a packet, Marky!
I know Bozo's cousin, he's a DJ and he could give you advice."

     This did not go well with Charles, remembering no doubt, Pinch-Bum's
suggestions for the use of the Chapel.  "I do not think your brother would
want the bother of such a venture and it would inconvenience dear Tristan
as he will be embarking on his Finals in the near future."

     One squashed Toad retreated, severely reprimanded.

     "But, let me show you this," Charles drew out a small chamois bag from
the deep inside pocket of the frock coat he was wearing.  He carefully
opened it and placed the most exquisitely bejewelled and engraved golden
ring on a small mat on the dining table.

     There were renewed 'Wows' and 'What is it?'

     He held up a hand, first finger pointing upwards.  "I am of the
opinion that it is a bishop's or an abbot's ring.  I await the return of
the curator of jewellery at the Fitzwilliam Museum to firm up that opinion.
I would hazard a guess of somewhere in the 1400's for it's manufacture.  We
found an illustration similar to it in a book in the Library and that was a
ring of German origin of 1460."

     Dad was looking closely at it.  "I wouldn't have thought that was lost
off someone's finger.  Think of the hue and cry if something like that had
just been lost.
  It may have been placed there deliberately."

     "Mr Foster, my sentiments exactly," said Charles with a hint of
triumph in his voice.  "I want to persuade the Brigadier to allow some
excavations around the place it was found but he is wintering in Benidorm
or some such place at the moment and does not return until Wednesday.
Perhaps the secrets of the dorter will be revealed.  However, I might take
preemptive action."

     Charles was on a high.  'Hic sepultus' was on his mind.  It sounded
feasible except that Tris nudged me and when I turned to look at him he had
a grin on his face.

     That was that.  Dad had to return to London.  We'd had some lunch at
the Commander's so I offered everyone else as well a snack from the cold
box Mum had packed.  Liam and Toad devoured most of the cheese sandwiches
between them while I held on to the ham sandwiches for the rest of us.  Tea
was brewed and all looked happy, even more so when Charles went off and
returned with a large fruit cake, courtesy of Mother.  Dad and Frankie went
off after that and Tris and I started to unpack.  Clean clothes aplenty.
Towels, two changes of bed linen.  A bag of tins and packets for the
pantry.  A fruit cake of our own and a tin of assorted buns.  Mum and
Auntie Di had been busy.  Then there were our books and papers.  We'd left
the particular two from Ulvescott behind.  We knew they would have caused
too much extra sexual activity on the staircase and we'd decided there was
enough of that any way!  Toad could exercise his unruly member twice
nightly at least, reading the adventures of the lads in the Chateau, or the
lads in the 'Odyssey'. But, perhaps, a visitor at half-term might bring
them.  I had the copy of 'All Change' which I would read in my leisure
moments - if I found any.  So, all that was left was the mysterious extra
bag.

     "Leave that until tomorrow," Tris said, "Lots to do then anyway.  I'm
not seeing Jacob until Tuesday afternoon.  He's going back to hospital on
Thursday for the biggie so I must check off things with him.  But we can go
for our run and after breakfast you go and practice for an hour or so as I
must go to the Library and then I'll show you things later in the
morning..."

     OK, Boss, OK.  Yep.  I had plenty to do as well.  Coming back a week
early was going to be useful as I could really concentrate on going through
all the Maths and practice hard if ever I had a chance of getting the
Fellowship.  Of course, the other reason, and perhaps the major one for two
horny lads was that our sex-lives over Christmas and the New Year had been,
to put it mildly, sporadic.  We'd had snatched times together but we hadn't
slept together and had our usual sexual encounters we'd got used to during
term time.  Of course, we'd had those awesome nights at Ulvescott.  Nights
etched on my brain and remembered each time I looked at that photograph now
on our mantelshelf.  I smiled each time I looked at that wonderful pair, so
together, so doomed, so blessed, and a vital presence in so many lives.  I
swore they smiled back.  I knew they were a presence in our lives now.

     We loved each other fully that night.  There was nothing ancient about
our endeavours.  An ancient rite perhaps, as ancient as time itself.  Time,
time, time... the rite repeated three times in various conjugations.  Tris
nuzzling me just by my Adam's Apple on each occasion knowing this would
urge me on.  I needed no urging.  I wanted Tris.  Tris wanted me.  I kissed
the lobe of his ear.  His signal point.  Tris wanted me so badly he came so
copiously as I entered him that first time and flooded us both with his
seed.  I filled him moments later with my pent-up juices.  So it continued
as our bodies vied to include every element of ourselves, fully, deeply,
satisfying both of us with such love, such passion, such tenderness.  We
slept, knowing we were safe, with an unfathomable presence watching
benignly.  We were together as they were together.

     I woke Tris by kissing his closed eyelids.  He smiled as he sprung
awake.  "We've loved each other for well over five years now," he said,
"But I think our loving will have changed since that visit."

     "I know what you mean," I said, "I felt it, too."  I had to say it.
"I want to make an even fuller commitment.  Do you?"

     He kissed me tenderly.  "We must go back to Ulvescott soon.  It's
there we'll make our pledge.  We won't even have to say anything."

     I nodded.  I knew.  But I would say sincere words of confirmation.

     Kitted out, with warm pullovers on top to shield us from the Cambridge
winter, we did our run.  Not too far, the Christmas indulgences had had
some effect on waistlines, but a few days would see us back to fitness.  We
ran the other way this morning as it was wet under foot and passed the
boathouses on the other side of the Cam.

     "Got to sort out what really happened to Harry Potter and the other
two.  We know they're connected," Tris said.  I would share some other
thoughts with him later.

     First thing I did after he left for the Library was to go to the
Porter's Lodge.  The other Assistant Porter was there and I had to explain
I had to phone the musical instrument firm to arrange for the harpsichord
to be assembled and tuned.  I got the distinct impression he thought I was
intending to keep some sort of forbidden beast in the rooms and was eyeing
the list of College Rules prominently displayed on the wall while I
dialled.
  If I hadn't been so engrossed in my task I might have told him the only
beast I had in the rooms was Tristan Price-Williams whose jaws could
stretch to accommodate any small or even large intruder.  But...  Yes.
They would arrange to be on site on Wednesday and had been forewarned.
They were well aware of Mr Carstairs' work as they had dealt with two other
instruments installed in other Colleges.  No problem.

       Then to the Chapel.  I was getting so used now to the organ it was
like a friend.  I lost myself practising.  I played phrases again and again
making sure the fingering was neat, right hand, left hand, hands together,
then adding the feet on the pedals.  I felt I was getting somewhere.  If
only I'd played the Passacaglia and Fugue like I had this morning!  Time
passed so quickly it was gone half past eleven when I emerged into the cold
air of the Quad.

     What the Hell!  There were two diggers and two watchers.  The corner
patch of soil exposed where the dorter walls were visible was now a hole at
least two feet deep.  The Head Gardener and one of his underlings were
digging away watched intently by the muffled-up figures of Charles and
Liam.  I was hailed as I hurried along the path ready for the warmth of my
rooms and a steaming hot cup of coffee.  Not so hasty.

     "My dear, we are finding artefacts of sorts," Charles called out,
"Great things are upon us."  He brandished an object.  I went over and
looked.  It was a rather bent piece of metal, the corner of which had been
cleaned and was shining.  "Plate it said," Charles was ecstatic, "I believe
this is a paten for the holy wafers.  We have one which matches in the safe
in the Chapel."  He looked at the expanding hole.  "Dig on, Mr Guthrie!"

     "Shouldn't this be done by proper archaeologists?"  I asked, rather
astounded.  "You might be destroying all sorts of things."

     "Stop, Mr Guthrie," he commanded, holding up the paten as if it were a
lollipop lady's sign for halting oncoming traffic, "I am afraid I have been
carried away with an excess of zeal!"  He looked over at me.  "You are so
correct, my precious.  I need someone ever to curb my enthusiasms."  He
turned to Mr Guthrie who was looking evilly at him.  "We must make the
excavation secure.  A tarpaulin, perhaps?  Liam, sweet, you will know where
such items are stored.  I must apologise, Mr Guthrie, for interrupting your
proper duties.  No doubt Mrs Chalfont-Meade will be able to recompense both
you and the industrious Wayne for the extra burdens I have imposed upon
you.  Come, Mark, let us go to my set and see the other items and I can
telephone the Archaeology Museum."

     He was very subdued as he pointed out an array of about ten small dirt
encrusted objects.  I'd seen similar in the museum in the cloister of
King's College Chapel.  "These are pilgrims' tokens aren't they?"

     He nodded.  He was rather contrite.  "I fear I will have to make
abject apologies for what has happened this morning."  Then he smiled.
"But, as I said great things are upon us.  As you appeared so Wayne had
just struck on something which I think is a box.  We must wait."  He was
vainly trying to dial on the ancient telephone it was his privilege to
possess as supernumerary assistant to the Bursar.  "They never answer my
request for an outside line," he said plaintively, "Let us go to the
Porter's Lodge and telephone from there."

     Up flights of stairs and down flights of stairs and I still wanted my
coffee.

     As we went out there were Wayne and Liam dragging a large tarpaulin
sheet over the excavation.  Charles looked Wayne up and down.  "Yes, he
seems a very well-built young man," he said quietly, "At least that is the
considered opinion of Christopher Lascelles- Wright and I have a suspicion
he would be expert on such matters.  I have often wondered why
potting-sheds have whitened windows."

     Oh, so Charles was imparting knowledge about the Secretary of the
Rugger Club, the scrum-half of the team Tris played in.  Yes, Christopher
Lascelles-Wright was compact and tough-looking with a mop of dark curly
hair.  Yes, I'd noted on the list of students of the College he had been at
the same school as Charles.  Yes, and he'd been a chosen member of the
line-up for the Medea scrum, too.  I remembered admiring his bubble-butt,
an apt description I'd read in that story Tris had downloaded, atop those
muscly, bronzed legs.  So Charles had certain knowledge of some liaison!  I
must ask Tris his opinion, too.

     I left Charles having a lengthy, rather tortuous, phone call to
someone at the Museum of Archaeology and sauntered back to the set.  I was
nursing my coffee thinking about an awkward passage in the Howells
'Rhapsody' Mr Prentice had given me at Christmas - a held chord full of
flats with a tenth in the bass, then a chromatic run in the pedals,
followed by widely spaced chords.  Good job I had big hands - went with the
ears....  Where was Tris?  He came in rather breathless just at mid-day.

     "Sorry, love, I just had to finish reading a judgement and it was so
complicated and I think the Judge got it wrong.  Can't find an appeal
though, and the bloke got seven years.  I want to ask Mr Fullerton about
it.  Come and have lunch and I'll tell you about what we'll do as soon as
we get back."

     I knew what I wanted to do.  Thinking about Christopher and his bodily
attributes and there he was in my mind, panting breathlessly, waiting for
the ball to be heeled out by the scrum, with my Tris shoving and pushing in
those tight dark red shorts of his by his side...  Oh, all this was quite
sufficient to set certain desires on the move.  Especially as Tris was here
now, himself well-built, well-hung and in prime condition.  And if
Christopher Lascelles-Wright, as described, was well-built, well-hung and
in prime condition and of a certain disposition, then I and Tris could help
him score more than one try and.....

     "Come on, are you listening," said Tris waving a hand in front of my
eyes, "You've got that bloody goofy look on your face and I know exactly
what you're thinking about.  Bloody insatiable...."  He bent down and
kissed my forehead, "...But I love you for it.  I'm starving though and I
could do with a good intake of toad in the hole!  Saw that's on the menu.
We can keep that other toad in the hole you're thinking of for later."

     "Bloody mind-reader," I said, hauling myself up from the depths of the
comfy chair.

     "No need to mind-read," he laughed, "I think about the same ninety per
cent of the time and when I'm with you it's ninety-nine point nine per
cent."

     "A bit left over?"

     "That's for Pugsy and the rest in case you have a headache!"

     I put my arms around him and we literally waltzed to the door.
"Decorum, decorum," he giggled as we emerged into the quad.

     There was the usual gathering, or carbuncle as Tris said, of the grey
sweat-suited tribe already feasting on platefuls of the customary stew or
roast meats to build even more muscle.  Sean was serving.  "Recommend the
toad, Mr Foster, Liam caught them specially this morning!"  He laughed.
"He caught something else when Mr Tomkins found out about that hole.  Mr
Charles is pleading for his life and he won't get anywhere."  He grinned as
four good-sized sausages surrounded by succulent looking Yorkshire pudding
were placed on my plate.  "Same for you, sir?" he asked Tris.  "And Mrs
Davies would like to see you as Mr Penry-Jones has disappeared again and he
was supposed to give her his list for the Chapel before Christmas."

     Tris grinned.  "You're a treasure, Sean, thanks."

     "That's what Mr Charles says I am, too.  Nice to be appreciated....
No!  Two sausages are the usual portion unless you have special
dispensation from the Chaplain.  You can have a nice slice of the beef as
well if you like!"  This addressed to a large grey sweat- suited individual
who had lumbered up behind us and was chuntering on about the meagreness of
his lunch.

     The veggies were being distributed by two youngsters, no doubt from
the local catering college on work experience like Barry had been.  I
recognised one.  He was one of the two shy lads who looked on at our group
at the Club with a certain longing.  His companion, not known, was busy
along the row of hot containers.  "See you Friday," I said quietly, "Come
over and bring that friend of yours with you and have a drink with us."  He
blushed but his smile told me his day had been made.

     I was still no nearer finding out what was in the bag as Tris said he
must go and see Mrs Davies.  Drew was Senior Organ Scholar now and
nominally in charge of Chapel music.  As he was rarely around and had been
miffed about the Christmas Concert I think his disappearance was
intentional.  It would mean more work for Ben and me but with Oliver
helping with repertoire and training the choir as well, we would manage.

     I settled in my study and looked at more of the notes James Tanner had
left for me.  Yes, I could see what the problems were leading to.  I did a
couple then followed a trail of my own, putting it down as neatly as
possible in my other notebook.  Interestingly, it led to a conclusion I'd
met before but in a different area.  I leafed through the recommended
volume.  No, it didn't mention that, so perhaps I was wrong.  I checked my
reasoning and was satisfied I'd gone about it the right way.  I thought
that result would be useful as it bridged two aspects which I'd noted came
up as separate topics in past papers.  I was busy sketching out the steps
of the next proof when Tris returned.

     "You look quite relaxed," he said.  "That little worried look you
usually have when your brain is on the boil isn't there.  I hope you've
been working and not idling and playing with yourself under the desk like
you used to do at school.  Twitcher Larson told me you were always having a
wank...."

     I turned round and clasped him round the waist.  "Twitcher bloody
Larson, as I've told you many times before, was a bloody liar.  He stuck
together more pages of that bloody maths book we used than anyone else in
the form.  Just because you used to stick your hand up his shorts to feel
his hairy nuts in the scrum...."

     "....Confession, confession," he crowed, "Who knew he had hairy nuts,
eh?  I only saw them once when we were both in the Junior XV.  You, bloody
liar, had him up in your bedroom plenty of times, I saw..."

     "...Oh, snooping now,....."  I gave him a great squeeze.  This was a
perennial running joke.  Yes, Twitcher and I had indulged in quite a few
joint sessions when we were in Year 9.  I was good at Maths, he wasn't.  I
helped him out and we helped each other out.  Tris had cornered him once
after a game, just when Tris and I were about to seal our own fates.
Twitcher and he had come to an arrangement, too.  Tris would help him with
History....  So, only seen Twitcher's hairy nuts once??!!  Not on your
Nelly!  Tris had handled them perhaps fewer times than I had, but...  The
arrangement fizzled out as Twitcher got more scholastic confidence and
girls loomed on the horizon.  We remained friends and Twitcher had
recognised the relationship between Tris and myself long before we thought
anyone else had.  He'd said he was sorry he couldn't help if I was lonely
when Tris left to first go to St Mark's.  He'd got a steady girlfriend so
he knew how I must feel, but we were all good mates, eh?  Good old
Twitcher, now at King's College London reading English.

     "What's in the bag?" I asked, having exhausted our usual Twitcher
repartee which often ended with our feeling of hairy nuts and joint release
of unscholastic tensions.

     "Right.  I'll show you.  Shirt-sleeve order needed."

     He disappeared off to the bedroom and came out lugging the holdall.
He unzipped it and took out a tape measure and a pad of paper.

     "You go and stand by the far wall while I stretch this out.  We'll
have to do it more than once as it was the longest in Dad's toolbox and
it'll only measure twelve feet."

     Dutifully I stood as he pulled out the metal rule.  He put a beer mat
on the floor to mark the twelve foot limit.  I then had to put my end of
the measure by the beer mat and went on, and then there was a little bit
more.

     "Twenty-five feet so far," he said making a rapid sketch on the pad.
"We need to check the length of your study and then the bedroom and into
those cupboards on the far wall.  And remember it's the Chapel after that."

     "You've been thinking the same as me," I said.  "Frankie wondered why
the broom cupboard wasn't deeper.  We know it wasn't because of the store
room behind.
  So...."

     "Yes," he said, "It's been so dark down below we haven't really
explored the size."  He went over to the holdall.  "I brought all this as
well."

     "All this" was three lots of extension leads, two with lamp holders on
the end, and a couple of double socket leads as well.

     "Should reach down if we plug into that socket by the fireplace.
It'll give us plenty of light to see.  Pity we didn't do this when that
team were here."

     We went on measuring, and the length of the rooms from end wall to end
wall we totalled up as just over forty six feet, give an inch or two.  The
width was sixteen feet plus depth of wall covering.  Quite sizeable for a
bachelor pad - or even a two bachelor pad.

     Next, I opened the panelling door and wedged the inner door open.
Using the extension leads we could see that the inner chamber, as it were,
was the same length as the set.  We then trailed the flexes down the steps
to the lower cellar and the place was illuminated again.  It was so obvious
now.  The cellar was not the same length as the upper rooms.  Given there
was a wall corresponding with my entrance hall wall and an inner dividing
wall with an open arch to the side no one had questioned the size.

     We measured the distances.  "Total of thirty-five feet, give an inch
or two," sang out Tris from the part where Aubrey was found.  I was
inspecting the wall in the other part, the part nearer the Chapel.  The
sixteen or so feet of wall across was subdivided by three columns of
protruding stone.  I shone my lamp down, looked at the bases of the second
and third columns, then knelt and called for Tris.

     "It's here," I called.  Tris came running through, he knelt and looked
where I was pointing.  "At the bases here there are little carvings of
heads on both these plinths."

     "'Multum capitum', many heads," he whispered, "And we're twelve feet
short."

     We stood up and shone the lights up and across the four walls between
the columns.  The third one along looked a shade lighter than the others.

     "I bet there was a door here and a wall's been put up to block it."
He went off and came back with a small steak hammer.  He tapped each of the
intervening walls.  The third one had a definitely different sound than the
others, a higher thud, as if less solid.

     "I'll stay here," he said, "I promise I won't do anything.  You go and
get the Chaplain and Charles."

     I was off like a shot.  Luckily the Chaplain was in his study.  He
looked quite bemused as I blurted out the story and the discovery.  He
grabbed a torch and followed me as I took off again and ran, most illegally
across the turf.  I rushed up the stairs and banged on Charles' door before
the Chaplain even reached the stairway.

     "Charles!" I almost shouted as he opened the door, "Come on down.  I
think we've found something."

     He followed me immediately, no questions, just listening as I gabbled
on about measuring up and the heads on the plinths.  We almost collided
with the Chaplain who followed as I outlined the findings once more.

     Tris was still in place.  He was examining the plinths very carefully.

     "I'm sure this is right.  These are beautifully carved."  He stood and
held the lamp so the Chaplain could see.  "Sub dorter hic sepultus est," he
intoned.

     Of course, we then had to show the Chaplain the copies of the code and
my solution.  "You lot seem to be putting St Mark's on the map in more ways
than one.  You think that wall hides something?" he said, poring over the
solution page.

     "We do," I said, "I have the feeling that Charles has the answer."

     Charles had been surprisingly silent so far.  Was his dig to be
overshadowed?  "My dears," he said, "I am sure that the C and S in that
Servant's record referred to the Abbeys of Crowland and Sempringham.  Both
had connections with St Mark's.  Johannes Knottus became a Gilbertine canon
and must have been at Sempringham, he may even have become the prior as a
Johannes is noted in that position and had the reputation of being a very
holy man.  There seems to be no record of the value of anything taken from
there.
  Crowland we know was sequestered but the spoils there for iniquitous
Henry were meagre."
  He turned to the Chaplain.  "Perhaps you could ask the Master for
permission to open this.  I have a curator from the Archaeology Museum
coming on Thursday to see the ring and the other pieces, perhaps he could
advise earlier."

     Tuesday was hectic.  The Master came across in the morning to inspect
with Dr Matthews, the Dean, and three of the old dons.  All shook their
heads sagely.  The man from the Archaeology Museum followed them and
brought some instrument which he attached to the intervening walls and said
the third one was definitely not the same as the others.  He went off with
Charles and had a long discussion about the hole revealed under the rolled
back tarpaulin.  The ring, paten and tokens were collected and placed in a
strong box by a messenger from the Fitzwilliam Museum.  Charles insisted on
going back with him as he was sure it was a scam and the man and the box
would disappear.  He disappeared for at least a couple of hours and came
back beaming.  The ring was genuine.  It was likely to have been the
equivalent of an episcopal ring and was dated provisionally at 1475 and was
of Italian origin.  They would perform further tests and appraisals and
someone would attend with the archaeologists in case other things emerged.
The other things were as thought.  They would be cleaned and judgements
given.  When Mr Tomkins was told he even smiled, query benevolently, and
Jason was acquitted of the heinous crime of aiding the destruction of the
hallowed turf.

     When I was next in the Porter's Lodge I was also acquitted.  "Mr
Foster, the Notices are quite clear, but in the circumstances the Dean says
you were under stress and the incident is forgotten."  My footprints would,
no doubt, grow as toadstools in his mind, and who the hell saw me?

     I had hoped for a quiet week to do some serious work on my Maths.  I
needed quiet.  Charles came to the rescue.  "My dear, I will be otherwise
engaged in bringing the Brigadier up to date with all that is happening and
keeping a weather eye on any developments so my humble room is at your
disposal.  I will guarantee no interruptions other than the wee mite Liam
who will provide you with abundant refreshments at your fancy.  Press what
is colloquially known as Hash on the telephone and he will answer."  As the
'wee mite' was standing behind him, with his own clipboard and an
inscrutable look on his face, I thanked them both as graciously as I could.
As Charles turned to go the 'wee mite' gave me a wink and trotted off after
him.  Someone had his measure I thought.

     I actually got loads of work done as well as practising assiduously.
A senior archaeologist came early on Thursday morning and, with an
assistant wrapped all the furniture, including the grand piano and
assembled harpsichord, in plastic as it was planned to open the sealed
space on Saturday and there was likely to be plenty of dust.  What with
that and the electricians and their mess - thankfully all cleared up, there
was plenty of interest.

     The other bit of interest was an urgent 'phone call from Ivo.  His old
tutor, Dr Porter, had something very pressing to impart, could he come to
stay Friday night as he was seeing him at nine o'clock Saturday morning.
We said, of course he could.  I explained about the excavations as we
called them and he got very excited.  Also that we would be going to the
Club on Friday.  "Count me in.  I'll take you out to dinner first, though.
Tell Tris I still love him to bits!"

     Of course, we had much to impart.  I'd sent him a letter detailing all
that had happened at Ulvescott with the invitation we all had for the Burns
Night weekend.  Adam had been informed by e-mail and the reply said he'd be
there as well.

     I was glad I was out of the way on Friday as several workmen and
sundry others came to assess the strength of the structures and so forth.
Someone had tipped off a newspaper so Mr Tomkins spent time warding off
'evil spirits' as Charles called them - journalists I assumed.

     Tris and I were in fits of giggles every time we were in the set by
ourselves.  "What happens if there's nothing there," I said on Thursday
evening, looking at the neat heap of tools lined up in front of the wall as
we snooped down in the cellar to see what was going on.

     "Probably just a pile of sixteenth century Penthouses or Playboys,
like the dirty books they found in that cupboard in the Chapel," he said
laughing.

     "Playgirls, more like it from what Charles says went on with the
students then."

     "Bit like now.  But I don't need anything to spur me on when you're
around!"

     "Flattery will get you nowhere... ...except into bed!"

     Ivo was full of news when he arrived.  Uncle George and Aunt Sophie
had also been invited to Ulvescott Manor as well.  He laughed and said she
was determined to wear a very short skirt to show off her birthmark and why
the hell hadn't he and Adam got them.  I said Dad hadn't but I and Frankie
had them and they seemed to hop around between generations.  His Mum had
it, they hadn't, but it was likely any kids they had might inherit.  Ivo
went rather serious then.

     "Better tell you.  'Tory and I are getting engaged at Easter.  We
haven't planned the wedding yet, next year maybe, but Adam says he'll be
best man," he laughed then, "Frankie can be a bridesmaid and you two can be
Matrons of Honour...."

     Dealing with Frankie and his increased bulk gave us the advantage of
knowing how to deal with Ivo.  He was seriously tickled and his screeches
matched the Toad's.  'Pax!' let us release him and I thought of the times
Ivo and Adam had made me screech, too.

     He dusted himself down.  He shook his head.  "Things don't change, I'm
glad to say.  And I'm definitely going to wear the family tartan that
weekend and no staring up my kilt!"

     Oh, ho!  More to plan!  We were ready and waiting for Ivo to reappear
from the bathroom at half past seven.  Both Tris and I were togged up in
matching Matteoli outfits and we got some appraising looks as we entered
the rather nice restaurant Ivo took us to.  He told us a bit about the two
training courses he'd been on and he was now posted to a 'desk' in the
Foreign Office dealing with French affairs until a suitable first posting
abroad was found for him.  He said one reason for announcing his intention
of getting married meant he might get a Paris posting.

     We were quite liquefied when we reached the club.  The three of us had
got through two bottles of wine plus drinkies for starters and a brandy
with our coffee so we were very happy, to put it mildly, as Grant the
bouncer gave us the thumb's up at the Club's entrance.

     Carlo and Davy were already there with Jonty and Danny.  Things were
being planned.  It was Brad's birthday next week and they had persuaded
Shawn to arrange a special 'Leather Night' and everyone had to appear with
something leather.  I said I would bring a whip as that was the only way I
could tame Tris.  He got up in a pretend huff and took Danny onto the dance
floor.  I saw the two shy lads hovering and they were invited over.  After
two lagers they thawed and we heard several scurrilous tales about our
College kitchen staff from the one working there.  They knew Danny well and
said he was going to be a prize chef and Barry was an idol for them too.
He was older than most on the course and they realised he had a past.  They
didn't know he was Mr B's - as they called him - nephew, so I said they'd
better tell him about the party next week.

     They were a couple of nice kids, just eighteen, and I had a dance with
both of them and the one in the College kitchen, Curt, said he was a bit
shy because he wasn't a student and some of them treated them like shit.
He said there was one in particular, and it didn't take much to identify
him as the Honourable Jeremy the Tosser, who always complained, so Cheffie
had put a laxative in a pot of chocolate sauce with instructions it had to
be poured over Tosser's favourite chocolate pudding.  Curt laughed as he
said he didn't complain that day and came back for seconds.  "Treat us like
it and we can make them do it."

     Ivo disappeared after a while and was last seen chatting to a couple
of young men I'd seen around the Club before.  Someone had said they'd been
at one of the other Colleges.  He probably knew them as he'd been involved
in so many clubs and societies when a student.  Anyway, he wouldn't be
bored - as if Ivo would ever be bored!

     Brad and Whippet came in quite late.  I was sitting watching the
various pairs dancing, including Tris and some buffed-up lad, and nursing a
large orange juice.  "Nasty case," said Whippet as he sat down next to me
and Brad went off to the lav.  "Some fucker's hacked a kid over drugs.
Brad's upset.  Could have happened to Barry when he was younger."  He
grinned.  "He knows about his son, though.  That pair.." - pointing at
Danny and Jonty - "...said they'd told you.  Thanks for not letting them
spread it about."  I said it was Tris who had taken the printouts away and
flushed them down the bog and told them to keep shtum about it.  He
laughed.  "Brad said his son confessed he'd been lying about all the girls.
He told his Dad because we think he was scared Danny would blurt it all out
here.  Brad's not bothered.  He'd had suspicions for ages about him and
Terry, so he told Tony that if Terry Springer laid a finger on his brother
he'll be round and throw the book, and that he and Terry could shack up in
his room if they wanted.  Bugger me, Brad said tonight that Tony's told him
Terry'll move in next week as his Mum wants to live at Chatteris near his
sister.  I suppose we'll see them in here and the Rugger Club'll be
abandoned."

     "I doubt it.  They'll have to keep up their macho image and I expect
seeing the sweaty bodies and hairy legs gives them fuel for their bedroom
activities."

     He laughed.  "Too true.  I had many a bedroom activity after Games at
school - alone of course..."  We laughed.  Too true, I thought.  "...Watch
it, the Boss is about..."

     "What are you two laughing about?  Hi, Mark, I hear you've been at it
again."

     "The excavations?  How did you know?"

     "Eyes and ears of the world!  No, first of all we had a call about a
ring that was found.  Some stupid bastard thought it might be on a lost
property list.  It must have been a student who overheard something.
Wouldn't give his name."

     "A student?  Not many around at the moment.  Shall I listen around,
too?"

     Brad laughed.  "Why not! You seem to be good at solving puzzles what
with the body in the cellar."

     The others had gathered round by now and were all ears.  Straight from
the horse's mouth as it were and not just the bits in the newspapers.  So,
we had to tell the tale again of how we found the body.  Every gruesome
detail was embroidered by Tris, including that the corpse must have died
while reading a copy of 'Fanny Hill' with his trousers down round his
ankles.

     "You said he died in the dark," said a disbelieving Danny.

     "It was a braille copy," said a quick-off-the-mark Tris.

     "Pull the other one!" said Danny and we all dissolved into hoots of
laughter and I ordered another round.

     We let on that there was going to be a couple of excavations over the
next few days.  A ring had been found in the quad and it was genuine and
very old.  The cellar might hold more secrets.  Or, it might just be empty.

     Brad said he knew about that, too, and he and Whippet would be there,
just in case.  The Bursar had phoned and asked for a police presence.
Probably to restrain Charles and his zeal!

     We didn't stay too late and gathered up Ivo and wandered back to
College.  He was rather pensive.  "Those lads told me there's a rumour
going round that St Mark's is awash with drugs.  I have the feeling the
finger points at Tosser but there's someone else involved as well.  You
heard anything?"

     Neither of us had and I think we were too interested in what might
happen in the morning to really worry.  We were glad to get to bed anyway.
We'd set up the small bed for Ivo and he made rude comments about wanting a
good night's sleep and didn't want to be disturbed by sounds of debauchery.
We forbore from attacking him fore and aft on the small bed as it probably
would have collapsed under the triple weight.  In fact, other than Tris
making a vile sucking noise to razz Ivo up as we snuggled down together I
slept quietly and deeply, unmolested and unmolesting, until our alarm went
in the morning.

     Ivo protested he was out of condition for a run, then confessed he'd
been visiting a gym three times a week to keep himself fit.  We dragged the
poor old soul out and did the run in front of the boathouses again.
Arriving back he insisted on having his shower first and we complimented
him that at the age of twenty-two he was still worth making a serious pass
at.  He said he was 'Tory's now and we could keep our hands to ourselves.
Tris said it wasn't his hand he was thinking of as there were other bits of
him readily available.  We got flicked with a damp towel and told to keep
our distance and if we were good he would cook us a nice breakfast.

     We'd just finished that when the first of the archaeologists and their
team of workmen turned up.  The senior one introduced himself as Dr Palfrey
and we were shown sonar maps of the doorway which he explained showed a
double skin of walls, whereas the other walls were all solid and eight
inches thick.  He also said there was an echo from something metallic
across the top of the intervening gap.  He thought it might be a trap for
the unwary.

     "A primitive guillotine?" Tris asked.

     "Right!  At least a couple of centuries before Dr Guillotine invented
his.  We think it's held up by jutting out pieces of stone and would crash
down when they are disturbed.  We'll start at the top and hope to hold it
with a metal post."

     "Then it'll be the Tutankhamun moment," Ivo laughed.

     "Too true.  But we'll put a camera through on a flexible rod first.
No sticking heads through!  Of course, like many of the Egyptian tombs it
might be empty but it'll give us plenty to explore.  If you don't mind
we'll go down and set things up.  There'll be others coming along soon and
we'll try not to cause too much disturbance.  As soon as we're ready we'll
give you a shout and you can come down.  You'd better wear these masks in
case there's any dust.  But don't worry, we'll clear up afterwards."

     As it was nearly nine o'clock Ivo said he'd better go and find out
what old Dr Porter had to tell him.  Just as he went my mobile rang.  It
was Frankie.  We said nothing had happened so far, they hadn't started, we
would let him know.  I went into my study and settled down as I had no
intention of going up to Charles' room and disturbing him.  Tris said he
would go to the College Library as he wanted to write up what he thought
was wrong with the summing-up.  Typical students' day.  Except for the
possible excitement.
  Just before ten there was a discreet tap on the door.  It was Jason.
Would I like Liam to prepare coffee and tea for the people down below?  I
had heard some subterranean thumps so I knew they were getting on with the
wall.  I went to the top of the stairs and called.  A lady archaeologist
came up, took off her mask and said they would all love a drink.  It was
getting hot down there with the heat of the extra lights and in a few
minutes they would be taking out a piece of the inner wall.

     I phoned the Library and Tris soon came trotting over followed by the
Master, the Dean and the Chaplain.  There was an air of suppressed
excitement.  But as usual, tea and coffee came first.  At last the three
archaeologists and their two helpers led the way down.  We donned our masks
and followed.  A television monitor had been set up on the table which had
been left down there.  We saw the heavy piece of metal held up by a metal
post.  Whoever might have been unwary would have suffered more than the
circumcision Tristram Shandy suffered from the falling sash window!

     Dr Palfrey gave the signal and the blue-overalled assistant tapped out
the topmost stone and caught it before it fell.  He drew it out and Dr
Palfrey stepped forward with the television camera and poked it and its
attendant light through the hole.  I think we all held our breath as he
adjusted the focus looking back at the screen.  As the camera panned round
the room there were gasps.  There were boxes of different sizes piled up
and what looked like two chests with rounded tops.

     "Permission to continue, Master?" Dr Palfrey asked.

     "Of course," the Master said, "But as this is the province of the
Pennefather Scholar we must ask his permission, too.  Mr Fullerton was most
adamant on that.  He will be here soon as well.  He and I with the Chaplain
are the Trustees of the Pennefather Bequest, but that states that the set
is the property of the Scholar except for the containing walls."  He
laughed.  "I see we may have some difficulties over ownership of anything
found.  I've already had a phone call from the Master of Magdalene
demanding information in case there is anything from Crowland Abbey.  I
have no idea how news travels so fast."

     Dr Palfrey looked at me.  I think he wasn't too concerned about such
niceties at the moment.  "Permission?"

     I said "Yes" and crossed my fingers, "We'll come back when you are
ready."

     We left the team ready to take down the rest of the wall.  Dr Palfrey
said they would touch nothing but take photographs of everything in situ.

     The Master had two cups of tea while we waited and wanted to hear how
I got the harpsichord, still swathed in its protective plastic.  He smiled.
"Our Dr Al-Hamed is a great asset to the College and we are looking forward
to his son joining us at Easter.  He's at the Sorbonne at the moment doing
some research.  He is sharing teaching rooms with your cousin, I hear.  At
least Mr Finch-Hampton left a legacy of good teaching.  One of his other
pupils has just been appointed to King's in London."

     He listened with an enigmatic smile on his face as I told him about
the birthmarks and the relationships.  "My boy," he said and laughed as I
finished, "You seem to have both the happy knack and the unhappy knack of
being in the right place at the right time.  I suppose I'd better say, keep
it up!"  I laughed and nodded. as we heard someone coming up the steps.

     Dr Palfrey and the lady, Dr Masterson, came into the room.  "We're
ready," he said with a great smile, "We've counted twenty wooden boxes of
different sizes and there are two of the iron-bound chests which were
commonly used for storage at the time.  They are all in good condition.
Dry and no sign of rot.  May we have permission to open a couple and assess
what may be inside?  There are pieces of parchment nailed to each."  He
chuckled.
  "Mr Fane- Stuart was right.  Crowland and Sempringham are mentioned.  But
first, I would like to examine the topmost box on the pile nearest the
entrance we've made.  It's the nearest to that opening and the smallest.
It has no label nailed but this was lying on top."  He held up a small
strip of parchment.  "I took the liberty of bringing it up as it seems to
be a continuation of the code."  He laid the strip on the dining table and
weighted the ends with two tumblers I had put out ready for cold drinks.

     We looked attentively.  There were five rows of seven spaced letters.
I went to my study and got the pad of paper with my working out of the
previous code.  I copied down the letters carefully:

          P   Z   L   N   L   B   O

          G   H   X   Q   B   D   L

          F   O   Z   B   O   P   H

          U   B   G   T   B   F   E

          Z   B   O   F   E   L   G

     "Short and sweet, five sevens," the Master said.  "What will you do?"

     "I'll try the first code.  It may be the same or we may have to find
another starting sequence."


To be continued: