Date: Wed, 04 Apr 2007 19:31:04 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's:   Ch 33a

		      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
Francis [Toad] Foster   Mark's younger brother
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
Damien FitzArnold   An accomplished painter
Alistair Jameson   His hairy-legged, accomplished nephew.
Raphael Pack  Gabriel's angelic brother


       33.   My Finals Year :   A.
       Before the Christmas Term starts.  [Part One]


     I decided to go back to St Mark's on the Tuesday, a fortnight early
before term started. Phone calls to Charles had ascertained that all the
work in the cellars was well ahead of schedule.  His news was that he had
also been elected to a supernumerary Fellowship as prime mover of all the
College 'improvements' so could now be a member of the Senior Combination
Room.  I think this rise in the firmament meant more to him than anything
else than just being Assistant to the Bursar.  He was recognised.  He had
also told me that my set had been thoroughly cleaned and made spick and
span after all the dust and dirt and general upheaval caused by the
building work and that he had arranged for a proper bed to be installed for
Oliver's use.  This was said with the tone of voice indicating that he did
not wish to hear of any untoward monkey business as we knew he was well
aware of the two sets of persons involved.

     That all dealt with I arrived during the morning and went first to the
Porter's Lodge.  Old Albert eyed me and his gnarled face took on an almost
pleasant aspect.  "Mr Foster.  Welcome back.  I must say you look well.  I
hope all is settled."

     I hoped this would be the only reference to the happenings of the past
year.  I nodded.  "All's well," I said, "I'll be too busy to think about
the past this year.  Finals!"

     He almost grinned.  "Comes to them all, I says.  Here today, gone
tomorrow."  He tapped his head.  "But they're all in here."

     I laughed.  "You're reputation is secure.  My brother was most
impressed when he came for his interview."

     "Next Pennefather Scholar, Mr Francis Foster," he said, nodding.
"He'll be my last.  Master says I've got to retire in two year's time.
Long enough to get young Liam sorted."

     "Not Jason?"

     "Other plans for him."

     Of course.  All being well he would be doing his A levels this next
year.  Then what?  Old Albert was not to be drawn.  He pointed at the
pigeon-holes.

     "There's plenty there for you."

     I was being dismissed.  I retrieved a load of letters, pamphlets,
pieces of paper and other missives, said good bye and hefted my bag and
rucksack and went across to my newly furbished set.  Charles had been true
to his word and everything was clean and polished.  My four poster had been
shifted a bit and a smaller version had been erected by its side.  I noted
that Toad's Manchester United duvet on my bed had been freshly laundered
and that Oliver had almost a matching one for Liverpool United.  I laughed
inwardly.  I wondered who had donated that!  Anyway, we'd be like two old
grannies perched side by side drinking our goodnight cocoa.  Some hopes!!
No, it was all very tasteful and well arranged.

     My next port of call was the cellars.  I pulled the right knob, as the
Chancellor had done!  A very handsome door had been erected at the top of
the stair and a key was hanging from the door handle.  A note was attached.
'For the personal use of the Pennefather Organ Scholar'.  It was in
Charles's florid script.  I opened the door cautiously and went down into
the lit up cellar.  I could see there were workmen busily erecting glass
cabinets in the third cellar.  I assumed they were for the copies of some
of the objects found in the various boxes.  The original wall paintings
were still covered with their protective shields but the greatest surprise
was in the first cellar.  A tall, very thin youngish man, I guessed in his
thirties, dressed in a paint spattered dust coat was busy painting in
detail within the outline of a church on one of the long walls.  He turned
as I stepped into the room and smiled.

     "You gave me a start," he said, "You're not one of the workmen through
there, are you?"

     "No," I said, "I'm Mark Foster, the Organ Scholar.  There was a key
for the new door so I thought I would explore.  I hope I'm not disturbing
you."

     He laughed and shook his head.  "Charles told me to expect you."  He
put the brush he was using on the small bench by his side and held out his
hand.  "I'm Damien FitzArnold and very pleased to meet you.  If it hadn't
been for you all this wouldn't have happened."

     I laughed.  "Just because I read a book on codes on holiday."

     He shook his head again.  "Needed someone to spot the clue, though."

     I thought I'd better change the subject.  I always felt a bit
embarrassed when the solving of the mystery was raised.  "May I see what
you've been doing?"

     He waved a hand at the back wall where spotlights were directed at
colourful representations of the interiors of several churches with
benches, stained glass windows, monks and people painted in.

     "These are some of the churches the experts say the statues came from.
As soon as I finish this wall and fill in a bit more on the two end ones
the statues and some of models of the artefacts will be arranged in front
of my paintings.  I should be more or less finished by Friday.  Come and
have a look in the other room."

     We walked through and into the third cellar.  The men gave us a cheery
greeting and stood back as Damien pointed to the back wall.  I was quite
transfixed.  The paintings were superb.  There were one or two patches
still to be finished off but the overall effect was quite staggering.  I
turned to look at the wall behind me.  He had already finished painting the
exterior view of one of the abbeys and above it in a scroll was 'Crowland'.
To the side was a painting of what the shrine with the reliquary of the
hand must have looked like The one not quite finished must be Sempringham,
I thought, and there was a scroll already painted to take the name.  This
one was staggering.  It showed the interior with richly coloured decoration
on the walls and a representation of the incarcerated Gwenllian in nun's
robes.

     "You've done all this in a few weeks?" I said.

     He laughed.  "I have been working at least twelve hours a day, even
over the Bank Holiday weekend.  It's quite exhilarating.  I must admit I
did have a couple of art students who helped me prepare the walls and did
some of the outlines and washes from my sketches.  One of them's still here
but he's gone up to mix up some more paints for me.
  Once I get going I find it hard to stop but Charles and those two lads of
his keep an eye on me as well."

     Charles's lads?  Ha!  As we made our way back to the first cellar one
of the lads, Liam, came through the door at the other end of the cellar
bearing a thermos flask and a bag.  He grinned at me as he unloaded two
mugs, biscuits and a pack of sandwiches.
  "Chef says your lunch will be ready at one o'clock, Mr FitzArnold.  You
said you would like it down here so he recommends a smoked salmon salad
with some Chablis.  I'll bring it down then.  I told Mr Jameson as well."
He looked at me.  "Good morning, Mr Foster.  I heard you would be back
today.  Mr Charles has suggested you might like the same."

     I nodded graciously at the so-correct young man and turned to the
artist. "May I have it with you, Mr FitzArnold?"

     "Certainly, I like a bit of company and call me Damien if I may call
you Mark!"

     Just then another very thin, tall young man came in from the other
end.
  He looked just a bit older than me and was dressed in a paint-stained
sweatshirt and very short denim cut-offs out of which emerged long, very
hairy legs.  In each hand he had a large tin can, with red paint in one and
blue paint in the other.

     Damien peered at the paints then turned to me.  "Let me introduce my
nephew, Ally.  He's my big sister's eldest."

     The lad grinned at me and put the pots down and held out a hand.  His
uncle said as I shook his hand, "This is Mark Foster.  Charles told you
about him.  He discovered the treasure."

     He grinned even more.  Wow, a very handsome lad.  "Glad to meet you.
What a find!  And the paintings next door!"

     "I haven't seen them all properly yet," I said, "I had a note from Nat
Temple saying some bits needed to be restored with my permission."  I
laughed.  "Officially they are mine while I'm in office."

     Damien looked from Ally to me.  "If you gave permission I'm sure Ally
would do an excellent job.  Though I say it myself he's very good..  The
screens are scheduled to be taken down tomorrow and you can inspect what
needs doing.  Nat is coming in to check so he can advise.  He's been away
over the weekend at some place called Ulvescott.  He's gone with someone
who's doing something historical there, I think."

     I nodded.  "That would be my cousin Adam.  He's probably going to edit
some memoirs."

     Damien nodded.  "That's it."

     Young Liam had been standing listening.  I turned to him.  "Why
doesn't everyone have lunch in my room.  Would you arrange that, please,
Liam?"

     He smiled.  "I'll arrange it all, Mr Foster.  One o'clock."  He turned
and scurried off.

     The next arrival was Charles.  He was only slightly flustered.  He
waved the clipboard he was holding in an expansive gesture.  "My dears, you
have met!
  I had hoped to be here in time to make the introductions but Mrs
Chalfont-Meade detained me with some worries about the Bursar's
arrangements for the new Dining Room."

     "His worries?" I said.

     He raised a deprecating hand.  "One has to let him be in charge of
certain aspects of the renewal of the College."

     "One?"

     He screwed the side of his face up and pursed his lips. "You are
perfectly aware of what I mean, dear Mark.  Just keep the peace is my
motto.  But this is diverting me from my major present duty.  I need your
permission for certain restorations to be made to the figures next door.
Damien has certain suggestions which I am sure you would countenance."

     I noted the smiles on both Damien's and Ally's faces.  "Damien has
already suggested that Ally could make any repairs or restorations
necessary," I said, I hoped imitating some of Charles' orotundity.

     He nodded.  "Yes, Alistair has shown me some sketches of what he can
do.  Nathaniel has kindly supplied illustrations of the originals which
leaves a few parts only which need some imaginative treatment which I am
sure he would be able to complete to everyone's satisfaction."

     I couldn't resist it.  Surely Charles wasn't growing even more in
pomposity.  "Any models needed?" I said with as much breathless enthusiasm
I could muster.  "I'm sure if needed we could rustle up some willing
volunteers."

     Damien and Ally were behind Charles and they were almost laughing out
loud.

     "Mark!" Charles tone of disapproval was unmistakable, "There is a time
and place for frivolity.  If anything more than imagination is needed I am
sure Alistair is perfectly capable of asking for assistance.  I take it you
have no objections to Alistair's participation?"

     I had been reprimanded very severely!  I grinned inwardly. "As Damien
has vouched for him I have no objections.  I would like to see the
sketches, though."

     The hand flew up again.  "That is settled then."  He turned sharply to
Alistair who managed to compose his face in time.  "I take it you are
willing to undertake the commission.  Please show Mark your work and I must
insist you keep to the time schedule."
  A finger pointed.  "We will agree the fee in due course.  Mother has made
adequate provision."

     Alistair only had time to nod before Charles turned back to me.  "I
must fly.  There is much still to supervise.  However...," He turned to
include all three of us.  "...This evening I have arranged for us to dine
at the Garden House Hotel at seven thirty.  I am concerned that you, dear
Damien, might be overtaxing yourself and need some relaxation.  In any
case, I have knowledge to impart about the possible provenance of the wall
paintings."  A finger went to the side of his nose.  "Certain intimations
about a family bearing the name of a current member of the College."  He
waved his hand and hurried away.

     "Phew," went Damien as the door closed, "he's the human whirlwind then
and now."  He turned to me.  "When I was younger than you Mirabelle used to
dump him on us and it was my job to take him round the National Gallery and
answer all the interminable questions of a very verbal six-year-old."  He
laughed.  "Still verbal!"

     Ally, by his side, laughed.  "I know, I remember him being in charge
of me as a small kid."  He copied a Charles hand gesture.  "He's alright,
though.  He's certainly an organiser.  Ten days to go and we're well ahead
of schedule.  Should take me about eight days to do the renovations as it's
all black and white.  There's evidence of a dark red background to match
the original plates and cups but that would have to wait until another time
if that is to be restored."

     Damien was nodding.  "Best to leave that.  Nat says he may be able
rescue some more later."

     I said they should come up at one for lunch.  I went up and tried my
harpsichord.  There was a note on the top that it had been tuned last week
so I sat and played through a couple of Scarlatti Sonatas and felt
extremely happy and relaxed forgetting my worries over the lecture list.
As I was playing Liam brought in a trolley and laid the lunch.  I finished
the second piece as he stood and listened.

     "The Chablis's in the fridge and the salad's in a cold box," he said.
"Chef says Sean can come across to serve things.  Bit of practice for him
for when the new room is opened."  He grinned.  "There's an invite for you
and one or two others for the opening.  First Monday of term.  After that
you have to pay but Mr Charles has it fully booked for most of the term."
He laughed.  "Even Chef's excited about it and we've got another second
chef coming, too."

     "That means cleavers out at dawn, eh?" I said, knowing that the
present second chef was rather hot-tempered.

     Liam giggled.  "Too true!  I keep out of the way when Cheffie and
George have one of their rows."

     "We've all heard them," I said.  Shouts from the kitchen often
punctuated even the student noise of mealtimes in Hall.

     Just before one o'clock Sean appeared with his usual cheeky grin.  He
quickly laid up and all looked very presentable.

     "You'd better open and try the Chablis," I said, "See if it's the
right temperature.  Can't let the side down."

     He scooted off to the kitchen and came back nodding his head and
holding up his left hand, first finger and thumb together in perfect
imitation of Charles's gesture of suitability.

     Just at that moment there was a rap on the outer door.  He went and
opened it and ushered in Damien and Alistair.  Dustcoat and stained
sweatshirt had been changed but Alistair still showed off his most
attractive hairy legs.  Attractive, that is, in my opinion.  I felt a
slight stirring!  But no!  Food!

     I must say Sean had been well-schooled.  He served each of us
perfectly starting with the guests.  The food was so tasty and the wine
complimented it so well, even the delicate fruit fool which came out as the
second course.  Then there was coffee and while Sean was packing the
remnants and the dirty plates and cutlery in the kitchen I congratulated
him.  He smiled.  "Best job out," he said.  "Cheffie says I can be in
charge of serving in the new room."

     "You'll do well," I said and I knew he knew I meant it.

     Damien, Alistair and I chatted until just after two and Damien
inspected the harpsichord.  I played a short piece of Bach to them.  Damien
looked intently at the inside of the lid which was plain but with a painted
internal border.

     "You know that most of the old harpsichords were decorated with
pictures inside the lid.  A pastoral scene or a still life.  I wouldn't
mind trying my hand at one."  He smiled.  "Free, gratis and for nothing!  I
like trying out new things."

     "Would it make any difference to the sound," I asked, "And I would
have to check with the person who gave it to me.  It's Dr Al-Hamed's
father."

     Damien smiled.  "I don't think it would make a difference and I know
Safar.  I did a couple of illustrations for his last book on medieval
instruments.  I'll ask him if you like."

     That settled, the pair went off and I went across to James Tanner's
room to see if he was around.  There was a note on the door.  'Back on
Wednesday.  Emergencies: contact Albert Tomkins'.  I wondered if Old Albert
knew the note was there.  I went down and ambled across to the Porter's
Lodge to leave the notes I'd made on the draft of three of the chapters of
his book.  I'd found a couple of typos and had attempted most of the
problems at the end of each chapter.  One was particularly tricky and I'd
made a note I thought I was near the answer required but there seemed to be
something missing.

     Old Albert was sorting through a pile of post and sticking it into
pigeon-holes.  I waited while he labouriously stuffed several envelopes
into an already over-filled hole.  He was saying 'Blast!  Blast!  Blast!'
in a whispered monotone as he did so.  Shaking his head he turned and saw
me.  "Get's worse every year, Mr Foster," he said, "They got all those
computers but they still send all these bits of paper around.  More
students, more bits of paper."

     "Perhaps you need bigger pigeon-holes, Mr Tomkins," I said, "These
look as if they were there when the Ark was built."  A favourite saying of
Dad's when he came across anything ancient.

     "Eighteen-ninety to be exact," he said, "Some evil little bugger set
fire to the Lodge and they had to be made then." He peered at me over the
top of his glasses perched as usual halfway down his nose.  "Mr Fane-Stuart
knows the evil buggers who had your pictures drawn.  He'll tell you
tonight, he said.  Caused a rumpus here they did.  In the books, you know.
Found it in one of the old Knotts' books as well.  Jason told me."  Old
Albert was being unusually loquacious.  "Mr Adam Carr's been helping him.
Says the boy's got promise."

     "Yes, I've been giving him some help with the organ.  He plays well."

     He actually smiled.  "He's a good boy and thank you kindly.  There's
not so many take notice of him."

     "But the Chaplain thinks highly of him and I'm sure the Master does,
too."

     "True.  But there are some of the young gentlemen..," This said with a
certain emphasis on 'gentlemen' which bode ill for whomsoever came into
that category.  "...who ain't fit to give him the time of day."

     "I shouldn't worry about them," I said, then a thought struck me.
"You said there were plans for him."  I smiled.  "If he gets his A Levels
OK then he'll be a student here?  And that's what you're worried about?"  I
shook my head.  "Next year I think there'll be a number of new students
who'll more than accept him.  I know my brother will and he's got at least
three friends hoping to come here as well.  He'll fit in."

     "Don't want him marked out.  He's a Knott though and they don't take
things lying down."

     I smiled.  "He's been very good to me and my friend Tristan and my
brother thinks he's the tops."

     He nodded and passed me a heap of assorted paper.  "This is for Mr
Price-Williams.  All this stuff here's..," He indicated a large pile of the
same laid out on the table behind him.  "..for all them that's gone.  Never
stops."

     I made my farewells, picked up even more correspondence for me and the
other load for the 'gone' Tristan and went back to my rooms.

     Much later, having binned ninety nine per cent of the junk mail, read
though the term's lecture list again and suffered a bout of mild panic, I
had a shower and was just putting my glad rags on ready to meet up with
Charles and the others when my mobile Bached.  It was Tris.

     "Hi gorgeous!  How many times today because I'm not there to comfort
you?"

     "Nil and I haven't missed you as I've met a real vision of loveliness.
He's got the most adorable hairy legs to drool over.  I stared at them all
over lunch and I'm dining with him tonight and we'll see about comparing
our furry appendages later."

     "Bollocks!  Charles has already phoned and remarked that you had
agreed to certain enhancements being made by the nephew of the painter
friend of Mother.  He mentioned you were all repairing to the Garden House
for dinner and hoped I was suitably catered for this evening.  He didn't
mention the hairy legs so watch what you stroke tonight!"

     "I miss you," was all I could reply to that perfect imitation of
Charles' style.

     "Same here, but news.  Adam phoned and didn't realise you'd gone back.
An invite for the three of us - I know, I know, that includes Microbe - to
visit Ulvescott for the weekend.  Adam'll be back tonight and he'll bed
down in your rooms and he'll come over as well and bring you on the bike.
Back Sunday night with Jak Thomson and his pal as Adam's staying on.
They've got to do some work on the computer at the finance place.  He said
he'd show you around there and you'll find out what proper mathematicians
do!"

     That sounded complicated but good.  I quickly told Tris about the
second bed which Adam could christen and that Charles had ideas about the
paintings.  I said I would entertain Jak and Max to the best of my ability
as the pair were worth getting to know better as they were gorgeous hunks!
I sent him a great raspberry of a kiss and shut the phone just as I heard
his 'Slut!!' and a great bang occurred simultaneously on my outer door.  It
was Adam, in leathers, with a big rucksack on his back and carrying his
motor-cycle helmet.

     "Hi, cuz, give us a kiss you lovely thing," he said, "Need a bed until
my rooms are sorted out.  Couch'll do 'cos I can't stand you snoring in my
ear though you have a nice firm little body to snuggle up against.  Why are
you all dressed up?"  All this said without drawing breath.  He pushed me
into the room as with the rucksack on he couldn't pass me in the small
entrance hall.  "Got to get this lot off.  I'm fucking sweating and my
balls are dripping wet."  He dropped the helmet on my sofa and hefted off
the rucksack.  I caught it as he swung it over to me.  It weighed a ton!
He quickly undid his riding boots and then stripped off the leathers and
all he was wearing underneath was a long-sleeved tee-shirt, woolly socks
and a pair of boxers.  "Avert your eyes and find me a towel, duckie!  To
the shower, pronto!"

     I didn't avert my eyes and the very familiar lengthy cock and
pendulous balls were soon in full view, being helped by the heat.  He
dropped the boxers and socks on the floor and used the tee-shirt to rub his
bollocks vigorously.  "Bloody cramped in there, they were," he said with a
sigh of relief.  "Nice stiff gin and tonic wouldn't come amiss, either.
Plenty of ice!"

     "Your servant, sir!" I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster in
three words.  "I must hurry though.  I am dining at the Garden House this
evening with friends."

     He gave a great baying laugh and grabbed me, pressing his sweaty torso
against my new Matteoli shirt and kissed me full on the lips.  "If we
weren't both going to the Garden House I'd strip you and ravish you on the
spot!  Tris said I could as long as I didn't damage the goods.  Ouch!"

     I had reached down and squeezed the familiar length.  He let go of me.
I didn't let go of him.  He stared straight into my eyes and grinned.

     "You hold that for a bit longer and neither of us will be dining
tonight!"  He laughed.  "Mustn't be tempted."  I let go and he reached down
to hold his own length.  "Nat'll be back in the morning.  Safar's driving
him back with Charlotte and James.  He's given the painter- man some
sketches of the originals and tomorrow all will be revealed.  He says a bit
of restoration will be needed and I'll be there offering my services as a
model."  He lifted his slightly tumescent lengthy cock to an upright
position.

     "Huhn!" I said, "They're big boys with big pricks not midget digits
like yours."

     "Oh, sweet cuz, you say the nicest things."  He laughed and then for a
moment he looked sad.  "You sounded just like Ivo then.  I miss the old
bugger, I really do."

     Regardless of his sweaty state I went to him and put my arms round his
shoulders.  "I can't compete with his repartee but I'm always here and I
bet Nat keeps you happy."

     He hugged me.  "Thanks, Marky, we send messages almost every day.
Ivo's so happy and so am I, really." He held me tight and kissed my cheek.
"Nat's all I could wish for, too.  Whippet was great but I think I'll be
better with Nat.  Whippet's still a good friend and we're having a big
party for him at the Club Saturday week.  You'll come?"

     "Of course and I guess Tris will be here as well."

     He hugged me then let go.  "Good!  Now the shower and what clothes can
you lend me?"

     He complained bitterly at the choice he had once showered.  Usual
Adam, though.  I was well stocked now with various sets in different sizes
from the Matteoli range so duly arrayed the pair of us stood at the bottom
of the stairs at seven o'clock and waited until Charles condescended to
descend.

     "My dears, a heavenly sight.  Adorable Adam, you look as if you have
stepped from the proverbial bandbox.  So elegant, so suave.  Mark, your
Uncle's designs compliment your beauty and I feel so dowdy in comparison."

     As he was wearing the most expensive-looking shimmering blue suit and
ruffled dark blue shirt and had a full complement of rings on his
expressive fingers he was a veritable peacock.  I even detected a hint of
eye shadow I thought.

     "Come, I have ordered a conveyance which should be waiting at the back
gate."

     We were swept off and met up with Damien and Alistair by the Porter's
Lodge.  Introductions were made for Adam and we were soon deposited at the
entrance of the hotel.

     "All is arranged," said Charles as he ushered us through the lobby
into the restaurant.  "I suggest drinks at the table while we choose.
Mother's generosity knows no bounds and she will be visiting for the grand
opening."  After the maitre d' showed us to the already prepared table, and
we sat and ordered drinks, he continued.  "The opening ceremony is planned
for the first day of term when all are assembled.  A ribbon will be snipped
then the Vice-Chancellor will unlock the door and the Mayor and his Lady
will be the first to enter with the V-C and Master.  They will be primed as
to what to expect inside and will be followed closely by a television
cameraman, Members of the College Council and you, my dears...," he nodded
towards the artists and me.  "...with Nathaniel, Crispin and Jenny
Masterton and Mother.  I do so hope no inappropriate remarks will be made."
  This with a particularly stern look at me.  "All the replicas and notices
are ready except for the pages of the Psalter and your Book of the Hours.
We await the British Museum on those.  They have promised...."  The hands
accompanied all this with forceful gestures.

     "And then?" Adam asked, as he was obviously not to be in the welcoming
party.

     "Adam, dear, 'festina lente' as the inscription says.  The dear Bursar
has agreed to a light luncheon beforehand at midday for those involved.
The ceremony is scheduled for one o'clock.  At two when all the dignitaries
have departed we will open for Senior Members and students of the College.
I think no more than twenty at a time.  It will be useful practice for the
opening to the public the following weekend."

     "A model of organisation," I said, hoping not to sound too ironic.

     His mouth screwed into a moue of appreciation.  "Thank you.  If there
are any obvious flaws in the arrangements let me know."

     Adam laughed.  "I wouldn't let the rugger-buggers in en masse or they
might re-enact some of the scenes on the walls....."

     A finger was raised.  "...We have thought of that.  Each stand on
Freshers' Day and each Club are being given tickets which have a number and
a time.  They are not in batches, but are random.  Mrs Chalfont-Meade is an
accomplished bridge player and will be shuffling the cards, as it were."

     "As long as I don't hear the screams from below...." I began to say.

     The smile was there.  "...We have tested sound levels with dear Jason
and the boys and a very loud ghetto blaster contraption and no sounds other
than a rumble or two at the highest level we managed were apparent from
your rooms above."  A waiter appeared.  "Let us order.  I think I will have
my usual fish for the main course but starters first.."

     Charles had much more to impart.  He was very adept at eating and
interspersing mouthfuls with his monologue.  He did let Damien explain to
Adam the sequence of paintings he had done and was about to complete.
There was more than smiles as Alistair described which bits he thought he
would have to renew in the second cellar.
  Then, as we were ready to eat again after the main courses had been
served, Charles was set to reveal what he had found in the records of the
Servants of the Chapel and the College history.

     "I must insist that what I tell you tonight is not revealed to third
parties who may have family connections until all is checked."  He looked
at us all in turn round the table.  Not a flicker.  "I have ascertained
from the records that the walls were prepared in 1769 when the two younger
sons of a family named Lascelles were in residence.  The College records
show that the family had supplied a succession of male offspring for some
sixty or so years before that as students.  It would seem they were of a
minor branch of the landed gentry but managed to maintain a rather riotous
lifestyle though two had become bishops in the middle 1700's and in
the1830's and I think one received a peerage at some time."  He paused to
take a sip of the white wine he had chosen to go with his fish.  "From my
reading of the notes these two took advantage of the installation of the
Duke of Grafton as Chancellor that year to ask permission to decorate their
lodging, as it was put, appropriately."  He looked across at Adam who was
not paying enough attention as he was tackling a lamb cutlet.  He raised
his voice slightly and I noticed the three diners on the next table taking
notice.  "In 1771 scandal occurred."  He did lower his voice then.  "It
would seem the Chaplain, having been in Chapel late, was disturbed by noise
of revelry and investigated the upper room.  Not finding anyone there he
went down the stairs to the cellar and found six students in a state of
undress together with, and I quote, 'quatuor pueri tam lepidi ac delicati
urbani'."

     Damien smiled.  "Four boys of the town of a certain kind, I assume."

     "Dear Damien, so delicately put and so true."  He had our full
attention.  He shook his head.  "The pair were sent down immediately and
the others in the party were fined for consorting inappropriately and there
is no record of what happened to the four boys from the town."  He raised
his fork.  "As far as I can find, no further Lascelles has entered the
College until last year...."

     "....When Christopher Lascelles-Wright joined," said Adam.  He smiled.
  "And he was at your school, wasn't he Charles?"

     The fork was raised again.  "In a much junior Form and was a sweet
young Mustardseed to my Titania.  He came to my immediate attention here
and was a valued member of my Medea performance and then again when I
appeared as Helen."

     Yes, I had admired that very handsome, muscly lad and then noted the
diners on the other table had resumed their rapt attention to what was
being said.  But Charles lowered his voice again.

     "I believe Christopher has certain tendencies which seem to be of an
inherited nature.  His elder brother was required to leave the school just
as I joined after being found with two of the Remove in a compromising
position and Christopher has a friendship with....."

     "Charles!" said Adam, quietly but sternly, "You shouldn't be spreading
such gossip."

     Charles did look contrite.  "Dear Adam, I was carried away and you did
make the connection."

     "Only because I know the lad and his name.  How do you know he belongs
to that family?"

     Charles shook his head.  "I don't, but I would assume the name is
rather unusual but there is the conjunction of the two names so I am not
sure whether it has come down the male or the female line."

     "Like Finch-Hampton," I said, "We know how that occurred."

     "Mark, that is so, I must make more enquiries."

     As he was telling us this there was a nagging memory but I couldn't
recall where I'd seen or heard the name.  Anyway, we left that subject and
Charles went on to tell us about the models which had been made and would
be displayed by the end of the week.  Damien nodded.  "Two more days and I
should finish that room and there's just a few bits to finish in the first
room where the statues and artefacts will be displayed."

     After a most satisfying evening we decided not to take a taxi but
strolled back to the College.  Charles pointed out that the entrance down
the alley way would be used by visitors to the exhibition and students
would have to bypass the turnstile and ticket-office which had been
constructed from the storeroom which had been there before.  The steps
leading down had also been put in place and the notices indicating 'A
Celebration of the Sacred and Secular' were ready to be displayed.

     In my rooms Adam and I sat and discussed the evening.  We agreed that
Charles was a born organiser, if a bit impetuous.  One thing was still
bugging me.  The name 'Lascelles'.  Still, we were both tired and decided
to have a relatively early night.  Adam gave me a cousinly kiss before
slipping into the second bed and well before I dropped off he was snoring
gently.


     "Up!  Up!"  I was woken by Adam tapping my nose with a teaspoon.  Oh,
God!  It was morning already.  "Wakey, wakey, dispel all those evil
thoughts you libidinous youth!  Rise and shine!  Get that porky belly of
yours into suitable attire and we will have just a short run this morning.
No need to wash, drink this coffee, then just have a pee and we'll be off."

     "Adam, Adam ," I said quite groggily, having been roused from a dream
where Tris and I were somewhere nice and sunny but the memory faded
quickly, "Please..."  I realised what he had said.  "My belly's not porky!"

     "After the amount you ate last night...."

     I slid out of bed and wrestled him over the bed.  I was nude, with a
morning hard-on, he had running shorts on.  "Good job you're partially
clothed or this might have been inserted...."

     He put his arms round my back and laughed.  "I shouldn't tell you
this, but Nat's quite playful in the morning...."  He leaned up and we
rubbed noses.

      "...I suppose he plays hunt the thimble, eh?" I said.

     He laughed.  "Don't you start.  There's not much difference between
any of us..  Oops, shouldn't have said that but I don't think Nat would
mind me telling you that."  He smiled.  "Big lad! I just hope it'll last."

     Adam was being deadly serious.  I mustn't break the spell.

     He hugged me.  "We slept in Piers' room and he felt the presence, too.
I don't think I have to worry, I felt so relaxed and there's an
overwhelming kindness about that place, isn't there?"

     I let him up.  We had a cousinly hug then I put on my new dark red
Matteoli jockstrap and running shorts and suitably arrayed we set out,
porky belly or not!  On our return, over breakfast, he told me more about
his visit to Ulvescott Manor and the memoirs of the pair from the time they
met first at the Military Academy as Cadets.  As I listened I realised if
they were allowed to publish - there was plenty of hush-hush work so Adam
said - it would be sensational.  Adam smiled.

     "The Master has given me permission to spend a year initially on the
notes.  If it works they will be published under the auspices of the
College and I guess the College will benefit from a good deal of largesse
from the Foundation that paid for your harpsichord and Tris's law course as
well.  I've written up most of the introduction and parts of the first
chapter and that's what I delivered this last week.  Actually, it almost
writes itself.  Nat and I are going to stay at Ulvescott for a few weeks.
He's writing up his thesis so we'll both be busy."

     After breakfast he went off to the Library to check dates and
references and I went to see if the damage to the Chapel had been repaired.

     Again, there were workmen.  The Chapel tower was surrounded by
scaffolding and the roof itself was being recovered with lead or some metal
where the stones had fallen through.  Inside the Chapel the roof timbers
had been replaced but not painted or varnished yet and all the sconces from
the choir stalls had been removed.  I assumed the damaged ones were being
repaired and all would be set in place sometime.  My organ was still
swathed in plastic awaiting the completion of the ceiling.  The foreman
said they would be finished by Friday, too, and the organ builders were due
on Monday to check all was well.

     As I came out into the sunshine there were Charles and Jason, both
with clipboards and serious expressions.

     "My dear, greetings.  I hope you slept well."  He was preoccupied
though.  He turned.  "Jason dear one, please check that Stair B, set 4 has
been assigned properly to Messrs Braine and Tomlinson."  He shook his head.
"I hope we will not have any repetitions of last year's sad happenings.  I
do my best."  He consulted his list.  "They both wish to share as this
reduces their expenditure, they both play Rugby Football, one is a
scrum-half and the other a flanker and one comes recommended from a school
in Bournemouth and the other from a minor Public School in Yorkshire.  Do
you think they will gel?"

     "Wait and see," I said, "What are they reading?"

     He studied his list.  "One English and the other Natural Science.
Both have two A's and a B."

     "Should be OK.  Just keep your fingers crossed."

     As Jason trotted off Charles turned to me.  "I hope I did not go too
far last night in specifying young Christopher's inclinations.  It was rash
of me to mention such things."

     "Don't worry.  I know Tris had spotted him with the gardener after you
mentioned it when your excavation was being done.  But that Lascelles name
rings a bell."

     "Thank you for your forbearance over my lapse of judgement," he said,
"and if you do have any thoughts let me know.  It is all most intriguing."

     I left him contemplating his lists on his clipboard and went to my
study and buried myself in my own contemplation of more of the problems in
James Tanner's manuscript.

     The next thing was a knock on the door just before lunchtime.  It was
Nat.

     "We've just removed the screens and they're clearing any dust at the
moment.  Would you like to come down and see the sketches and suggestions?"

     I followed him and went along to the newly finished entrance at the
other end of Charles's old set.  Damien waved a brush at me as he was
busily finishing off a rather stern looking priestly figure standing in a
church porch.  Alistair was in the middle room looking at a large sketch of
part of the wall which had the dancers and tumescent youths on it.

     "Hi, glad to see you, I need to check with you so I can get on with
the work," he said pointing at the sketch.

     Nat stepped forward.  "It's these bits.  Whoever ordered the whitewash
must have tried to erase certain aspects...," He pointed at the sketch and
then at the wall.  Although it was very clear the state the lads were in
each of the erect pricks was smudged.  The sketches showed very definite
erections.  "....Alistair could restore everything to match the outlines of
the figures.  Look, the body features and the hair are very distinct."

     Be bold I thought.  "People will want to see what was originally
there, won't they?" I said, "I think Alistair should match up to the rest."

     Nat laughed.  "Thanks.  That's the decision we wanted.  Over to you
Alistair."

     "Right, I'll get started after lunch.  I've tested out the paint over
there."  He pointed to a corner of the picture.  I couldn't see any change,
then noticed a slight darkening of a couple of lines, making a sharper
image.  "I think it's OK.  I'll start by lining in some of the torsos, then
if that works I'll do the more intimate bits."  He looked at me and
grinned.  "It's OK, I won't need any models, Damien's drawn out those bits
full size from the originals.  I think they'll look quite impressive." he
laughed.  "But, we think some of the faces were based on the participants
as they're not so stylised as the drawings on the pots.  Any volunteers for
the ones that have been blurred?"

     Nat poked me in the back.  "If anybody it should be Mark and then
there's Tristan."

     "Oh, no," I said.  But then, I thought, even Safar appeared in 'that
book'.  I got another poke in the back.  "Alright," I said, "As long as
Gabriel, Boz and any of the others appear."

     "Charles?" came a quiet query from Nat.

     I warmed to the idea.  I pointed to a prancing figure with a
tambourine and a thick bent dick whose face had almost been obliterated.
"That one!"

     "Settled!" said Nat.  "Photographs needed for those not present or
available."

     "What about permission?" I asked.

     "Phone!" said Nat.

     I went up to my set and retrieved a group photo someone had taken when
several of us were lazing by the Cam.  I had a larger photo of Tris so
picking that up I reached for my mobile and he answered almost immediately.

     "Just about to phone you," he said, "Did Adam have his evil way with
you?"

     "No he did not," I said, "I was too busy seeing how far up those hairy
legs went."

     "Liar!" he said, "I've already spoken to Adam and he said you were
both quite celibate last night and he's staying at Nat's until Friday so
you'll just have to do five-finger exercises until I'm available."  He
laughed at his weak wit.  "Anyway, you can tell Charles I need to be taken
out next time I'm around."

     "Will do, but I've got a proposal for you."

     He sniggered.  "You proposed long ago and I accepted, remember?"

     "Yes and that still stands...."

     "...twice nightly, if I remember rightly," he said interrupting me.

     "OK, OK," I said, "Just shut up and listen.  This call is costing me
money."  There was a moment's silence.  "We have the offer for you to be
immortalised," I said and then giggled.  Quickly I told him about the
rubbed-out facial features and the idea that we could all be drawn in.  He
just laughed and said 'Yes'.  I had an idea.  I wouldn't say anything to
Frankie but there were enough to include him and, in any case, he would be
here next year.  I counted up.  There were at least ten figures and there
were about ten of us including the Thugs and Frankie and..... ....who would
be the youth having his balls felt?
  Frankie?  By whom?  Ivo and Adam were identical twins so.... ...A
composite face.  All fixed.  Just contact the others.

     Of course, that meant Gabriel and Josh.  Where were they?  That fount
of all knowledge, Jason, would know.  I set off with more pages of notes
for James Tanner and found Jason in the Porter's Lodge.  I deposited the
pages in James's pigeon-hole, noting that it was still full so he hadn't
collected anything yet.  I also noted an envelope addressed to him in
Fiona's distinctive writing so she'd been busy as well.

     "Do you know when Mr Pack and Mr Gibbons are coming back?" I asked
Jason.

     "They're already around," he said, "They're in one of the flats in De
Freville Avenue until term starts.  Mr Pack's brother's started at the
Sixth Form College."  He grinned.  "Bit different.  He's at Mr
Wolstencroft's."

     That was solved.  I had Gabe's mobile number so as I crossed the Quad
I tried it.  He and Josh were in Grantchester just about to have lunch at
the Rupert Brooke.
  Yes, they would come to see me when they returned and would collect
Raphael who had most of the afternoon free.

     I had just finished another of the exercises in the manuscript and had
a pot of tea brewing when the three arrived.  Gabe and Josh led the way and
then Raphael entered, looking about him and seeming a bit bewildered.  He
was tall and bronzed like his elder brother, but there the similarity
finished.  Whereas Gabe was massively built, Raphael was slimmer and had
long bleached blond hair in a pony tail.  His rather tight tee-shirt showed
off a muscular torso with well-defined pecs and biceps.  He had clean-cut
facial features and a blond stubble and then he smiled.  Wow!  He was a gay
boy's wet-dream!  But, straight or gay, he was going to break a few hearts!

     "This is me little brother Raph," said Gabe, not showing much
enthusiasm, "Say hello!"  He poked the lad forward.


To be Continued: