Date: Sat, 25 Apr 2009 12:48:42 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's:  Sequel 14

		      Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
				 A Sequel

				    by

				   Joel


Seq 14:

             Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:
Mark Henry Foster            The story-teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams  His well-proportioned boyfriend.  At College of Law.
Francis Michael Foster      Alias Toad/Gobbo   Mark's younger brother
Shelley Price-Williams      Tris's sister
Adam Benjamin Carr         Mark's cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it
Ivo Richie Carr                   Ditto, as his twin, safely married diplomat
Sophia Carr                         Their mother in Dorset
George Carr                        Their father: A farmer
Nathaniel Tempest              Adam's boyfriend: a church historian
Raphael Pack                      An Aussie blond bombshell
Arnold Luffman                  Librarian of Michaelhouse


			  Thursday Morning: Later

     It took a little while to orientate ourselves.  It was certainly like
a labyrinth.  The central more or less clearway was lined by shelving and
this was not in equal lengths either side.  Gaps between the shelves led
into side passages, some short and fully lined with shelves, others dark in
greater depth and barely shelved.  We walked together, I think scared in
case we got lost in a side tunnel.

     "'Name of the Rose'," whispered James.

     "At least we can't get lost with the cables," I said a bit louder.

     "You have quite a length still to go," Mr Luffman announced from the
door.

     "I've been looking for the number sequence," James said ignoring the
call, "It's idiosyncratic.  Look that last bay is numbered 6765 and we've
walked along at least fifty feet of shelving.  The one opposite over there
was 4181."

     I had the longer cable as James had attached the extra lead that Mr
Luffman had to my lamp.  I walked on.  "The next one this side is 2584."

     James gave a great baying laugh.  "No mathematical Fellows now!  Must
have been at some time!  Do you get it?"

     I spotted it immediately.  "Of course!  The Fibonacci Sequence isn't
it!  2584 plus 4181 is 6765."  I stopped.  "I can't go any further into the
tunnel as I'm at the end of my cable so I can't check the next one."

     "Work it out!"

     I started to do the sequence knowing that the twelfth term was 144 and
the previous one was 89.  I added them to get 233, then 377.  OK, OK going
on, the one before 2584 must be 1597.  "It should be 1597," I said.  I had
a think.  "I suppose there was wasn't much early stuff so the amounts
increased gradually, then more and more over the years and someone thought
it was clever to use the sequence instead of the ordinary counting
numbers."

     "Most probably."  He laughed.  "Some mad mathematician I expect.  They
do occur periodically!"

     Ignoring that sally I walked back looking at the shelves.  "The other
numbers on these look strange as well.  Here's T373, then T383, then T727
and T757.  I'll have to move further in to see the next."

     "It'll be T787," James said.

     Bugger me it was.  Oh, yes!  Palindromic primes.  I remembered there
were thirteen between one hundred and one thousand and the letters would
allow plenty of sequences.  I came out and went into a bay nearer the door.

     "These are the V's," I said.  I heard a laugh from the doorway.
"V757," I said to myself.  I held the lamp up and scanned the shelves.
Yes.  "I've found that one.  There are a whole lot of boxes."  I read out
"Thirty-three Bismarck One, Thirty-six Bismarck Two."

     "That's Mr Herridge's Franco-German material," called out Mr Luffman.
Why the hell he didn't come and look around for us I didn't know.  That
peculiar numbering as well, all in three's.

     I went into the next bay.  The same writing was on document boxes,
still going up in threes.  Then there were several books in a row.  Shining
the lamp on the backs I could see they were all with titles most probably
to do with that war.  I pulled one out.  'Democratic Ideas and Reality', by
Mackinder and dated 1919.  I shoved it back.  I was scanning literally
dozens of boxes.  I found about half a dozen all with Greek characters on
the back.  I heard James talking to Mr Luffman in the background as I
skirted round three wooden crates labelled 'Patagonia 1929'.  I nearly fell
over what looked like a totem pole leaning against shelf U151.  I didn't
bother to look at the label dangling from it as the carvings on the thing
were enough to give anyone the frights.  I back-tracked and turned a corner
at the end of a book case, so as not to get my cable tangled, and spotted
two document boxes, one narrow, the other fatter, on the bottom shelf.  The
bookcase shelf had W313 painted on it and there was 'Stein 3' 'Stein 6'.  I
looked to see if there were any others but there didn't seem to be
anything.

     "I think I've found something," I called out, "I won't retrieve them
until they're checked."

     This did get Mr Luffman into the stacks.  He and James came up to me
and James shone his light downwards as well.

     Mr Luffman was carrying a ledger.  "6765 W313?" He turned towards the
end of the book, "This ends with the sequence in T.  That's as far as the
indexing got for Rowlands.  I have my own system based on Dewey for newer
stuff outside the stacks and nothing's been deposited in here for thirty
years.  As you can see there's not much space left."

     "So, may we take the boxes through?" asked James.

     "Most certainly.  And as they aren't catalogued I suppose the contents
revert to Dr Stein's family.  Would you see he gets it all?  I am afraid
the postal facilities here are rather rudimentary so we tend to use
Gonville and Caius post-room across the road."

     Wow!  A Librarian giving stuff away.  But then, if the College was
disappearing up its own fundament the less the material, the less to worry
about!

     I was still curious, trying to peer into the darkness.  "What about
the stacks further in?  They must go back many years?"

     Mr Luffman nodded.  "There are some documents and incunabula going
back to at least 1350 although many of the very early College records were
destroyed by fire around 1400 before the College moved its holdings to this
site.  John Fisher became Master in 1497 and there are documents relating
to him.  There is material from when he became Bishop of Rochester and when
he was Chancellor of the University here for many years.  We have retrieved
one document which deals with his murder by Henry the Eighth and that is on
display in my study with a note on his canonisation."  He pointed into the
far gloom.  "There was much secrecy surrounding us and over time numerous
families deposited their estate rolls and papers here and in the various
wars and insurrections families got dispersed or even killed off and we
remain the repository of history.  Our Fellows collected documents and
books from all over Europe on their travels and most of the stacks hold
what they left behind when they died..  I am sure I have read that Herridge
in his travels in Europe visited Rothenia.  It must have been in the
obituary book which used to be kept in the Senior Common Room."  He waved
an arm at the assembled masses of boxes.  "We have also to remember we have
much of this as it is only in fairly recent history that Fellows were
allowed to marry.  The College was their home."

     I think it was 1882 that Fellows of Colleges were allowed to marry
from something Charles had said.  Recent history as far as Michaelhouse was
concerned!  I looked at James.  I thought of the room he'd inherited from
Dr Bell - a bachelor Fellow.  What mathematical secrets were in the
innumerable folders on the shelves?

     "Still goes on," said James, "I dread to think what might be found
lurking on my shelves when they're cleared."  He handed his lamp to Mr
Luffman.  "If I take the bigger one Mark can carry the smaller one."

     Mine was quite light.  James weighed the other in his hand as he
withdrew it from the shelf.  "I think this has something rather bulky in
it," he said.

     Mr Luffman led the way and we went into a side room which was
obviously his office.  The desk was quite clear so we placed the document
boxes side by side on it.

     "The larger one first," said James and he unclipped the tags holding
it shut.  There were a number of handwritten and typed documents inside.
Each one wrapped in a paper cover.  I picked up one of the handwritten ones
and carefully unfolded the cover.  I looked at the first page.  It was very
clear handwriting but in a foreign language.  I assumed it must be
Rothenian.  James and Mr Luffman were examining a typewritten one from a
thicker set.

     "This would appear to be the first part of an account of a family and
its history," said Mr Luffman after scanning the page.  "Wildenstejn is the
name."

     "That's it!" I said, "That's the full name of the family!"

     "It's going to take up a good deal of your valuable time if we read it
all here and explore what else is in this one," James said to Mr Luffman
and put the page back in its folder.  "I think we should just look in the
other box first before we go."

     I put my sheet back as James began to open the other document box.  As
he did this I had a very strange feeling.  I felt I knew what was in the
box he was opening.  I shut my eyes and had a distinct picture of a very
stately lady holding a small wooden box and holding it out to me.  She was
pointing to an open window through which I could see a church.  She pointed
towards the church which had three towers and spires.

     "Before you open that I know what's in there," I said.  I still had my
eyes closed and I didn't know if the pair were looking at me.  At least
there was silence.  "There is a wooden box and I know what I have to do.  I
have to return it.  But where?"

     James said very quietly "Strelzen."

     Mr Luffman gave a little strangled gasp.  "It's just as I've seen in
here before.  I know now.  My Lady...."  He fell silent.

     I shook my head and opened my eyes.  Both James and Mr Luffman had
theirs tightly shut.  What had we experienced?  I waited.  James opened his
first and smiled.  He looked at me and pointed at Mr Luffman.  He was
mouthing something silently.  At last he stopped and his eyes snapped open.

     He smiled, too.  "I have never liked entering the stacks because I
have always felt some presence here.  I have never told anyone but today I
know it was for the good.  The presence was protecting whatever is in the
document box.  Whoever it was waiting for has appeared."  He looked at me.
"You are it's custodian now.  I heard the German word 'Beschutzer' I am
sure.  My German is rusty but I think it means..."

     Before he could say the word I interjected "...Guardian!".

     "Yes," he said, "I feel free, too, to make a start on the rest of this
collection!"

     "You said 'My Lady'?" James asked.

     "Lady Fenice, I'm sure," he said.  "Before I tell you more we had
better see what is in there."  He pointed to the second document box and to
me.

     Very carefully I undid the tags and opened the lid.  Inside was
something swathed in soft towelling.  There was a piece of paper pinned to
it.  In large letters it read.  "When the time is right and Rothenia is
once more free this is to be returned to the safe keeping of St Guthlac."
I unpinned the note and parted the cloth.  The box was as I had seen it in
my head.  Small, in a heavy dark wood, about seven inches by three and two
inches deep.  Carved very delicately with a scene of a boat with someone
being handed something.  There was a small keyhole.  I knew the golden key
fitted it but it was not to be opened here.

     "The cathedral," I said, "St Guthlac's Stone.  I have to take it to
the cathedral."

     Both James and Mr Luffman nodded.  I wrapped the box again and pinned
the note and closed the document box.  We had certainly had an experience.
What next?

     I told the whole story as I knew it.  Mr Luffman nodded sagely as I
said about the abbatial rings.  "If I had known that I might have been able
to shed some light on why there were two rings," he said.  "I have been to
your College cellars and have seen the displays.  My opinion is that what
you would call refugees fled the incursions of a rather awful tyrant in
what was then a fledgling Rothenia.  His name was Albert the Boar, a German
duke in Thuringia.  The very same one mentioned on those burnt documents.
The refugees probably included monks and must have ended up at Crowland
Abbey where St Guthlac was venerated.  I expect there was a reciprocal
exchange of gifts when hostilities died down and they were able to return.
The ring and this box, arranged by the Lady Fenice who is venerated still
in the country.  I guess this is some relic or object associated with St
Guthlac and there is a battle on at present where this would be the prize."

     "But how would that man who was killed know about this?" I asked.

     "You had better read what Dr Stein placed in the other box.  I expect
it will tell you."

     James had picked out a third very small paper folder.  Just a single
sheet.  He held it up.  "It's signed 'Julius Wildenstejn' and it is in
three languages.  In English it says 'My instructions are that the box
should be returned and I have arranged for the two envelopes containing the
location here in Cambridge to be deposited in the State Library and in the
Library of the Rodolfer University in Strelzen.  I have received
confirmation that these documents are safely placed there.'  It is dated
August 27th 1945."

     "Interesting," said Mr Luffman, "That would be between the time the
Nazis were pushed out and the Communists took over.  We must assume that
someone has discovered one of these sets of directions recently and was
trying to get whatever was deposited here and use it for their own means."

     "Or for those who financed the search," said James.

     I was thinking hard.  Jerzy had said there were at least two rival
factions other than the Monarchy party in Rothenia.  Far Left and Far
Right.  He had also said there were criminal gangs making money and
fomenting dissension for their own ends.  Mr X was ex-STASI but he could
have sold himself to the highest bidder.  He was unlikely to have been
working on his own, unless he had tried to sell information to others and
he had been eliminated.  I expect the State Library would have been
searched or ransacked by invaders so...  That would mean others might be on
the trail.  Who?  How many?  I would have to go over all this with James.
Meanwhile...

     Mr Luffman seemed a much happier man as we bade him goodbye after
thanking him profusely for his help.  James had insisted we both signed a
receipt for the document boxes.  I said I would contact Richard Stein.  We
had two extra bags, one from Sainsbury's with the smaller of the document
boxes in it and a larger, stouter one from a boutique, containing the
heavier box of documents.  Mr Luffman explained his daughter shopped at the
boutique and had left the bag when she had visited him in his lair.
Neither of the two students seemed to have moved when we went through the
large room to reach the stairs.

     "What a place," breathed James as we left the small passageway and
joined the crowds of tourists and gawpers in Trinity Street.  "Let's put
the box in the Bursar's safe and then find some lunch.  You can read
through the history at your leisure but I've got some more instructions for
you as well."

     I knew what he meant.  The ingredients for St Mark's Fire.  Or, at
least, some of them.  I hoped I could trust Jerzy's friend.  He didn't seem
so enthusiastic about the restoration of the monarchy as Jerzy was.  I
would have to quiz Jerzy carefully about Tadeuz's views and background.  I
knew he was gay but was he involved in anything - either willingly or under
coercion?  I was getting quite paranoid!  No, after visiting the Bursar,
who unquestioning deposited the boutique bag in his safe, I felt safe as
well!  No Charles.  Busy at the building site we were told.  Then to a
quiet pub off Bene't Street where we met up with Paul who insisted in
paying for lunch.  There was to be another surprise.  After feeding well
and drinking a pint of Stella I felt quite relaxed.  Paul and James were
grinning at each other.  Something was being hatched.

     "Have you and Tristan arranged anywhere you'll live next year?" Paul
asked.

     I shook my head.  Recent events had put such mundane but very
important matters out of my head and, as far as I knew, Tris hadn't thought
about it yet.  "No," I said, "I expect we'll try to find some cheap flat
somewhere."

     Paul looked at James.  "I'm going to ask you something before I put it
to Tristan." He paused and laughed.  "We have a small flat at the top of
our offices on King's Parade.  The present occupant has left us to go to a
much bigger firm in London.  He has big ideas, too, and we wish him well.
But, to put it mildly, the place is a bit of a shitheap at the moment.  We
are having it cleaned up and renovated and need clean, sober, steady
tenants.  A peppercorn rent and you would pay the Council charge which
would probably be reduced as you would technically still be a student.  I
didn't ask Tristan first as I know he is still rather overawed at the trust
we've put in him.  I'm not speaking out of turn when I say it's fully
justified.  I'll ask Tristan tomorrow when he comes in but you've been
primed.  Would you agree?"

     I looked from Paul to James.  He just had his usual enigmatic look on
his face.

     "Ought to tell you the previous occupant to the untidy young man was
Young Mr Partridge.  He was the one who dealt with the Pennefather business
at the time way back," said James.  "He died when he was ninety quietly in
bed and I bet the place is haunted!  But you'll be used to that!"

     "James!" Paul said, laughing.  "The place might creak a bit but the
old boy was a perfect gentleman so I'm certain anything left behind will be
benign!  And Quentin hasn't mentioned anything.  But then, he's more
interested in the high life outside office hours and seems to be rarely in
the flat other than for takeaway meals!"

     I said I'd better discuss it with Tris but it was the most kind offer.
Paul said he took that as a 'Yes' and he'd better get back to the office to
earn some money and I should take care James didn't overload me with work
next year.

     I went with James back to his rooms in College.  I said I'd better
contact Curt and his father about what we had found.  James said we could
do that after reading the documents which were in English.  I realised why
as we passed the sheets of the history of the family to one another.  The
Wildenstejns had been a part of what became Rothenia since the 1200's.  The
'Wilden' part referred to their rather lawless progenitors.  From what
could be gathered from old documents the writer had concluded they were
part of a tribe, or host, of Germanic and Slavic mercenaries which roamed
that part of Europe, dodging the plagues which ravaged Europe almost
continuously in those early years, and taking part in any minor war between
competing nobles who could pay.  Gradually they settled and became
landowners and minor nobility themselves.  The crowning glory seemed to
have been the trust placed in the head of the family by the venerated
Duchess Osra, the last of the native dynasty of Rothenia and friend of
Countess Fenice.  Sometime in the 1400's the family had settled in a
fertile valley in the mountains and had lived there ever since avoiding the
ever present feuds and changes in the governing of the country as
experienced in every small state in Europe over the years.

     All had been well until the First World War.  The country had been
neutral but with so much of the trade and industry linked to Germany and
with a German king the economy had suffered.  There was a family rift and
tragedy as well.  The Baron's elder brother, Anton zu Wildenstejn, had
later thrown in his lot with the National Socialists and had gone to
Germany as a faithful acolyte of the Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler.  On a tour of
Germany his car had been ambushed and he and his driver were shot sometime
in 1936.  This was hushed up as it coincided with the start of the Berlin
Olympics of that year.  However it devastated the family as it was rumoured
he was actually a spy for some unknown other country as well.  We realised
the writer must have been Julius and he had revered his uncle who had a
fine earlier record as a highly regarded officer in the Rothenian army.
This had probably initiated his interest in the history of the time and his
own doctoral thesis.  There was a sadness in the writing as it then
detailed his own exile.  The faithful friend who had endangered his own
life by warning him.  The news that this friend had been imprisoned and
probably murdered by the Communists was something which affected him
greatly.  He had corresponded with his friends in Switzerland - a fellow
historian who had studied with him at the Rodolfer and his growing family -
after the War and found they had helped others to escape both the Nazis and
the Communists.

     That part of the history finished there and was initialled 'JS July
1949'.  Then there were a few pages detailing some of the work he had done
with the SOE.  Most dealt with the translation of reports, edicts, orders
and such-like emanating from the Nazi hierarchy and got to Britain
clandestinely and sent to the War Rooms under Whitehall.  He also had to
teach operatives, destined to be dropped over Germany or in France,
colloquial German, manners and etiquette which he had learned in Berlin
when visiting there before he escaped.  One could sense the sombre feelings
of the exile in these last pages but finally there were paragraphs about
his meeting with his future wife, Constance Reynolds-Kuhn, and the
happiness of their courtship and marriage.  Then a huge surprise.

     At the bottom of the box, carefully wrapped in layers of tissue paper,
was an official- looking envelope and another box.  This was quite small,
red and imitation leather and stamped with the Royal insignia.  I looked at
James.  He nodded.  I undid the clasp.  It was the medal and ribbon of the
Order of the British Empire.  On opening the envelope we found the citation
and a hand-written note.  The note was signed 'Winston Churchill'.  It was
a letter of thanks for his help in a time of peril and addressed to Baron
Julius Stein.  The award had never been mentioned when I'd talked either to
his son or grandson.  The loss of his family and its inheritance must have
overweighed that gratitude of a thankful nation.  I had much to tell Curt
and his father.

     "Plan carefully what you have to say.  That family needs to know how
great a man Julius was.  I think they know but this will reinforce it."
James paused.  "I think we should go and see the Master.  He knows Richard
Stein well and he must be told of your mission."

     I smiled.  "It will be a mission.  But there's more.  The herbs?"

     James smiled.  "Glutton for punishment, eh?"

     I explained that Jerzy's friend, Tadeuz, had volunteered his help
especially as he knew the mountain areas and was a mountaineer himself.

     James laughed.  "Probably bandits in them tha hills!  And don't you go
climbing."

     I said I had no intention unless there were stairs with carpets or a
comfortable cable car with a padded sofa.

     James retrieved his phone and rang the Porter's Lodge.  They confirmed
that the Master was home and would ascertain if he was receiving visitors.
We watched the ancient instrument after he put the handset back on its
rest.  Two minutes later it rang.  'Yes, the Master would be pleased to see
us'.

     "Must use this a bit more often," James said as the thing was placed
back in its secret hidey-hole, "It seems to have some compensations for the
space it takes up."

     The Master was quite intrigued with the whole story.  He said he would
come with me to the Bursar's Office in the morning to see the wooden box.
He pointed me to the phone in his study and said I should ring Dr Stein
immediately.  Over half an hour later having told the whole story and
reading some of the notes to a silent Dr Stein he just said "You know your
duty".  I said I would arrange for the rest of the material to be sent to
him.  He asked if I would show it to Curt first of all and finally, before
I put the phone down, "My father never said about the award of the OBE.  I
found out by accident when a student of one of my colleagues was doing an
essay on British honours.  She had noticed the name in the listing in the
London Gazette.  When I asked father he said he was very proud to have
received it, but it was for no more than any other person would have done
at the time and in his place.  I also think he may have been somewhat
depressed about the role of his uncle before the War.  It is probable he
was a double agent as suggested but he would never speak of him and there
were no photographs of him.  Again, I found out about him through other
sources."

     I left the Master reading the history and drinking tea.  James said he
would go and find the list of herbs which he had somewhere on his desk.
The Master said something under his breath like 'Best of luck!' and then
said if I found Curt to bring him over for tea and to show him the
findings.

     Luckily Curt was in the backroom of the kitchen, clean and tidy and
alone and not smelling of chip-fat.  He was reading some lurid novel he
said he'd picked up in the Gay section of Borders, 'Three for the price of
two'.  "Perhaps that's how I should charge Lolly," he said flourishing the
book which had several well-honed torsos depicted on the cover.  He looked
conspiratorial.  "I've lent the others to young Dusty and Stevie.  Give
them something to think about..."  He didn't finish as I snatched the book
from him and read the top of the page he was reading.  'But the main
attraction was his cute little uncut dick.  It was just a shy little
nubbin, hiding inside the leg of his shorts, looking all coy and shrivelled
and...'

     "I suppose you're reading that over and over again thinking how lucky
you are?"

     "No," he said, wrinkling his nose, "Thinking how lucky Lolly is!"

     I shook my head.  I then explained why I was there and that if he
wasn't busy, other than thinking of ways of contaminating the minds of
young innocents with lewd literature, perhaps he would like to take tea
with his Godfather and hear what we had found.  He put the book in his
locker and followed me out.

     "Tell me bits first," he said, "I keep having to think about things I
can't work out."

     I explained about the Michaelhouse Library and how we found the
documents and the box.  I said we hadn't opened that but it was to be taken
to the Cathedral in Rothenia.  By that time we had reached the Master's
House and he opened the door.

     "Come in, there's a full pot of tea all ready."  He led the way to the
main room where the documents were laid out over a table.  We showed Curt
the OBE, citation and letter first.  There were tears in his eyes.  I asked
the Master if we could have the history and other documents copied so Curt
could read at least the history at leisure.  He said he would get Mrs
Chalfont- Meade to do that, or Curt could do it under her instruction, in
the morning.  At the same time seeing the wooden box.

     "I'll bring my digital camera," I said, "I can send your father a
picture of it."

     I would be able to send it and also a copy for Dr Masterton as she
would probably be able to identify the source of the carving on the box.

     I then went through again our experiences in the stacks.  Yes, they
were experiences.  There was something I couldn't explain.  Curt listened
and asked no questions.

     "Well, Curt," the Master said as I finished, "There's a lot more to
try and find out.  I think Mark will ask his cousin for help.  He's on the
spot and will be able to gauge the temperature of things out there."  He
picked up a copy of the Times.  "There's a small paragraph here about the
problem of drug gangs using Rothenia to launder money.  Apparently, five
hundred euro notes are the preferred method and there are crackdowns all
over Europe because of that."

     "I doubt if I'll see many of those," I said, "I've got about two
hundred euros in spending money including the ten euros my Grandmother gave
me."  I then had to tell the tale, much to Dr Mays' amusement.

     We left Dr Mays reading the history and arranged to meet at nine
thirty the next morning to visit the Bursar's office.  As we went across
the Quad Liam came over with an envelope.  "Professor Tanner's compliments
and if you have time would you give Jason an organ lesson?"

     I hadn't seen Jason around for ages.  Recovering from taking his A
Levels, no doubt.  After I said I would see if, whenever, he called me on
my mobile.  He was busy at home sorting out the folders and books of
records kept by the Knott family over the years.  His father had let him
loose on the accumulated records which were stored in the attic of their
house.  I said I'd see him in the morning at eleven.  That would give me
time to deal with the box and the copying for Curt.  I then had a look at
the list of herbs and plants in the envelope from James.  They were mostly
Latin names but some of the dozen in the list had common English names
after them as well.  At least I knew a few by name even if I wouldn't
recognise them if I saw them.  Marjoram, thyme and gentian were three and I
assumed hyssopum officinalis was the same as 'purge me with hyssop, and I
shall be clean' which was in the Psalms.  I phoned Jerzy to tell him I had
the list.  I almost told him of the discovery of the box but I knew I
should not.  Odd.  But it was clear in my mind.  I didn't even puzzle over
it.  I'd had a clear instruction!

     Dead on six I phoned Tris.  Yes, his exams were over and he would be
coming on an early bus to be at Jacob's office at nine.  Nose to the
grindstone.  I didn't say anything about the flat.  Paul had said they
would discuss that with Tris over lunch as well as discussing his terms of
employment.  "Bit more than the minimum wage I hope," James had said with a
grin, "Don't ask what they charge an hour or it'll make your hair curl!" He
hoped to be finished by five.  And I would be drooling in anticipation,
drooling in more places than one I guess.

     There was still a buzz of activity in the College.  Getting worked up
for the May Ball on Saturday, no doubt.  I would miss that but I knew Fiona
and Dina would be there with Louie and Toby.  Zack had said Fiona had spent
zillions on a dress and would look stunning.  Still, I had Tris on Friday
night and the party at home on Saturday.

     I queued up at the Servery and only one of the pair of newbies was
there, Dustin.  I wondered if young Stevie was suffering from Repetitive
Strain Injury to the right wrist after reading whatever salacious book Curt
had lent him.  No, he was helping Curt in the new Dining Room I was
informed by the smiling Dusty as he did his very artistic arrangement of
salads round my plate.

     As I sat down I saw Oliver come in.  He was with Raphael and another
young man.  "My guests," he said as the three sat down around me.  I said
hello to Raph.

     "You haven't met Hary," Raph said, "I've told him all about you."

     Hary stuck out a hand across the table.  We exchanged greetings and I
could see why Raph fancied him.  Dirty blond, like my Tris; hunky, like my
Tris; a smile to die for, like my Tris.  I shifted on my seat.  Hary, if I
didn't have Tris, and Raph wasn't such a delectable piece himself, I would
be making a pass at you.  More than a pass I would....  I was missing what
Oliver was saying.  Something about Raph and Hary looking at the attics
with Charles.  And then up bowls Charles looking rather dusty.  Not like
Dusty, just a bit grimy.

     "My dears, I do apologise.  I was too famished to clean myself.  I had
no lunch as the Brigadier had forgotten to order the proper lighting for
the large marquee and I had to drive to Ely to arrange matters and I had
promised to show dear Raphael and his room-mate-to-be the plans for the new
accommodation and we have come straight from there." He waved a hand at
Hary and I realised both he and Raphael were also a trifle grubby around
the edges.

     "He took us up forty-eight steps to some titchy door and we had to
squeeze into this..."  Raph waved his hands expressively.  Another who had
studied the Fane-Stuart Art of Gesture.

     "...Most impressive loft space," said Hary.  "Don't be so crabby,
dork!  It'll be terrific when it's got all the mod cons!"

     'Dork'!  Good friends already.

     "No bickering, my dears," interjected Charles, "You have seen the
plans, Raphael, and as you will have extra stairs to climb some relief in
the rent will be made.  Mr Moncrieff is obviously well-pleased."

     "I'm not bickering," said Raph with a laugh, "It was just that you
said yourself the last time anyone had lived up there was two hundred years
ago and it looked like it.  There were six of those china things..."
Another wave.

     "...Chamber-pots," said Hary.  "I thought you would have recognised
what they were.  I didn't think Australia had got proper...?"

     "Gentlemen!" said Charles sharply, "Young Raphael is quite conversant
with modern standards of plumbing and I can assure you that when completed
no expense will have been spared in renovating the whole area up there.  I
admit the stairs are a problem but you are both fit and this is a first
step in providing more much-needed accommodation."

     "Charles," said Oliver, "Calm down.  I hope you are not being
overworked."

     Charles sat silent for a moment.  I noticed he had a sizeable piece of
salmon with new potatoes on his plate and what looked like a really nice
Hollandaise sauce around it all.  Not on the menu!  "I am sorry," he said,
"There are many things to be done.  I have asked the Master if I may have
an assistant.  I think young Sean may be asked if he would like to fill the
position."

     "He's a good lad," said Oliver.

     Nothing more was said as we got on with our meal.  I did notice Raph
and Hary exchanging grins across the table.  As we finished I said they
could all come back to my set as I had a couple of reasonable bottles of
wine to finish off and Hary hadn't seen the Pennefather rooms.  That would
fill a lonely evening for me.

     Charles relaxed and mellowed as the evening slid by.  Hary was allowed
to open the doors and was suitably impressed.  Wow!  When he reached up to
pull the stop knob his tight jeans stretched most impressively over his
well-shaped butt.  But!!  I mustn't dwell on such things.  There was no
doubt, I needed Tris.  If there was the equivalent of the ache behind the
back teeth when you really needed a piss I had it with a vengeance.
Somewhere in the groin area.  I just hoped Tris felt the same for tomorrow
night.  Oh fuck!!  Of course, Oliver would still be occupying the other
bed.  A snippet of conversation caught my attention.  It was Oliver
speaking.

     "...I had a message at lunch-time.  My Mum's arrived with my
half-brother in London this morning and she wants me to meet him and her
tomorrow evening at their hotel in Southampton Row.  I hope she doesn't
think she can land him on me for the Summer until he goes to boarding
school."

     Questions started to fly.  There was a good deal of commiseration but
Charles was pretty firm.  "He is your half-brother," he said, "He can't be
abandoned.  Has your mother any other relatives here?"

     "She's got a sister in Peterborough.  The one I've been to see.  She's
divorced and her son is older than me.  She and Mum fell out years ago and
are hardly on speaking terms, just terse correspondence according to Auntie
Pam.  I don't think she'll want to look after an eight- year-old.  Dad'll
go bananas if I ask Gran and Grandad, but they love kids and he's going to
my old Prep School in Dorset so he'll be near them."

     "You'd better see what the lad is like.  He might be an obnoxious
little Aussie," I said this and waved my glass at Raph who made a very rude
gesture at me.  "On the other hand he might be a gentle little creature
like Gabe."

     "Too right!" said Raph, giving me a thumbs up this time.  "But the
poor little sod'll need someone around."

     Hary looked at Oliver.  "My young brother Jo is eight.  I could ask my
Mum."

     "Hasn't she got her hands full looking after Franz?" I asked.

     Hary shook his head.  "He's coming on OK and wants to do everything
himself now."

     Oliver sat for a moment.  "If it came to it do you think she would
take him on?  I'm staying here in College until our trip to Italy and if he
was near it would be perfect."

     Hary laughed.  "There are four of us and Mum doesn't mind if we have
friends to stay, eh Raph?"

     "Four?" I asked.

     "Yep, there's Tommo as well.  He's twelve."

     "Thomas?  A composer?"  I couldn't think of a piece of music.  Hary
nodded and smiled.  "Arne or Tallis?" I asked.

     "The second.  Dad said he was fed up with foreigners but Mum got back
with Joseph for Haydn!"

     Oliver looked relieved.  "But I've got to be back Saturday.  I'm
taking Zack to the May Ball."

     Well, that was a turn up for the book.  Two gay boys amidst the throng
of diners and dancers.

     "It's OK, there will be others.  There are a couple of Second Years
and two lots of girls.  Fiona did a bit of questioning around and I don't
think we'll be chucked in the river with Toby and Louie there as well to
keep an eye on us.  We'll all be on the same table."  He looked at me.
"Pity you and Tris won't be there.  The rainbow contingent in force."

     "My dear," said Charles with an expressive hand gesture, "Security
have been instructed to take immediate action in the unlikelihood of any
unseemly behaviour.  The rowdier element of the College is being artfully
segregated towards one end of the largest marquee so they can be keep under
close surveillance."  He waved his left hand this time.  "We have one
hundred and eighty couples booked and two bands and Cheffie has an army of
helpers for the dinner.  The tombola should be popular.  There are two
hundred tickets at five pounds each and one hundred prizes.  Mrs
Chalfont-Meade's idea and she has done sterling work gathering the more
valuable prizes."  He sighed.  "I think some of us will be rather exhausted
once the night is over!"

     Given that he'd entertained May Balls in the past with his risque
monologues and tableaux and all he was doing this year was squiring a young
lady we had still to meet.  He wasn't finished.

     "As a kind gesture the Master has asked us to join his table."

     The 'us' was lost on the lads but Oliver and I exchanged meaningful
glances.  I bet the Master was intrigued as well and wanted to check up.

     "Pity we can't join in," said Raph, "But I'm having a go in the Wet
Tee-Shirt Competition at the Club.  Hary's coming to cheer me on.  Bastard
won't join in.  He wouldn't have the ghost of a chance of winning, would
ya, sport?"

     He'd have a pretty good chance, I thought.  Broad shoulders, narrow
waist and, even in the loose top he was wearing, there was a hint of a
well-defined chest.  Oliver thought so, too.

     "Don't be so cocksure, Raph," he said, "He'd give you a run for your
money."

     That did it.  Hary laughed.  "I've decided," he said, "I'll do it as
long as you don't tell my Mum until after." He wagged a finger at Raph.
"Last time I won a prize with nothing on except a nappy was in a baby
contest at our church fete.  Wet tee-shirt and my white swimtrunks and you
don't stand a chance, matey!"

     Wow!  Just imagining the pair of them arrayed minimally set my pulse
racing.  In particular that throbbing pulse again somewhere deep in my
groin.  Oh, shit!  Daren't stand up to pour a little more wine!  I pointed
at the bottle and Raph hoisted himself up from the depths of the sofa next
to Hary.  He was quite unabashed as the bulge in his jeans testified to his
own arousal.  No one took a blind bit of notice - except me as he posed
quite provocatively in front of me holding the bottle.  "Like some," he
said, and he and I knew it wasn't the wine he was referring to.

     "Not a big one," I said and hoped no one noticed I nodded and stared
at the swelling.  He knew and grinned.

     "It's a good one.  Nice body to it.  And it's Australian!"  He
pointedly looked at the label on the bottle then looked at me.  "Nothing
beats a good Australian for strength and that follow- through."  He
clenched the fist of his other hand and made a slight punching-up movement.
Thank goodness the others were chatting on between themselves.  I forbore
from saying that I'd never experienced the renowned Hungarian heavy version
because that would have spoiled our little interplay.  He winked and poured
me a good measure.  Yes!  We'd given each other a good measure in our
encounter that time.  I hoped he and Hary would experience that, too.

     All too soon the bottles were empty and the evening broke up.  Oliver
went to the door with Hary and addresses were exchanged.  Raph gave me a
peck on the check as he said good night.  "Glad you lot did so well.  I'll
try as well."  Then "Come on, Pommie, you'd better do a few press-ups in
the morning to get your flab down!" to a laughing Hary who gave him a side-
swipe to his backside as they went off waving back at us at the door.

     "They will be an asset to the College, I'm sure," said Charles as he
gave Oliver and me a courtly bow of the head as he said goodnight.

     With them and Frankie on the Stair I wondered what mayhem might ensue!

     For some reason Friday sped by.  I thought that waiting for Tris to
appear would mean that time would drag.  No.  I met up with Curt at the
door leading to the Bursar's rooms as the Master and Mrs Mays came up.

     "Barbara thought she shouldn't be left out from the viewing," he said
cheerily, "Hope you don't mind, Curt?"  His wife just smiled at Curt.  A
type of smile the pair seemed to share as a 'He's always like that!'.

     "Auntie Babs is always welcome," He looked at his Godmother.  "And I
have been assigned to serve at your table tomorrow evening so I hope all
will be well.  No speeches, just the toasts, I hope."

     The Master laughed.  "Squashed by my own Godson.  I was only going to
speak for about twenty minutes or so - or at least until the bread rolls
start flying."  He slapped Curt on his back.  "Come on, let's go in."

     Mrs Chalfont-Meade was in charge.  Coffee was produced and Charles
emerged from his room and the Bursar joined us.  At last we were ushered
into his spacious office where the huge safe was opened.  Curt stepped
forward and took out the wrapped box and laid it on the Bursar's desk.  He
looked at me but I wanted him to unwrap the box.  He did this almost
reverentially and we all carefully examined it as it lay there.  I had my
digital camera with me so I took photos of the top and sides.  The delicate
carving on the top stood out and in a roundel there was a hand with the rod
and strands as Dr Masterton had described from the St Guthlac's Roll.

     I took the keys out from my pocket but Curt shook his head.  "I don't
think we should open it.  I spoke to Dad last night and he said it should
go to the Cathedral in Strelzen unopened.  That's my opinion, too.  It's
yours to take, Mark.  Guard it well."

     There was a note of quiet authority in the way he said it, quite
different from the usual free and easy Curt.

     "I will," I said.  "But with your permission I want to let Dr
Masterton see the photos I've taken.  From what she told me this looks like
a scene from the St Guthlac's Roll.  I can e-mail her a copy and I'll send
the same to your father."

     "Please, we need to know as much as possible." He looked at the
Bursar.  "May I have a copy of the history my grandfather wrote."  The
Master held out a folder and opened it showing the pages.

     "Of course, you can do it yourself." He pointed towards Mrs C-M's
abode.  "The machine's out there.  Do a couple of copies."

     That done I left Curt busy being instructed by Mrs C-M on the
intricacies of the photocopier.  Charles, silent during the whole episode,
went back to his office after exchanging some pleasantries with Mrs Mays.
I said I would deal with the photographs and went back to my set.  It
didn't take too long.  I sent the first group of photos straight away to Dr
Masterton, then spent a little drafting an e-mail to Dr Stein giving him a
written version of the search in the stacks and that I would be off on
Tuesday.  I attached the photos and sent it off.

     I must have been thinking about the box and thought it reminded me of
something.  I grinned to myself and opened the top drawer of my desk.  Yes,
my trusty pencil-case.  A wooden box, about the same dimensions as the
other one.  I'd had it as a birthday present years ago from Grandma Foster
and rarely used it now.  It had a couple of coloured pencils in it and a
pair of compasses.  For some reason I took it to the bedroom and put it on
the side-table where I'd piled some socks and pants ready for the journey.
I went back to the main room and remembered I'd promised Jason an organ
lesson.  I hurried to the Chapel and was playing one of the pieces in
Couperin's Messe Pour Les Convents when he arrived.  He'd decided to have a
go at the ARCM diploma first so I enjoyed going over suitable pieces with
him.  He was improving very quickly and was developing a sound technique.
I felt we had made good progress during the session.  It was about twelve
forty-five when he said he'd better go.  Time goes quickly when you are
enjoying yourself!

     After lunch I changed into a pair of shorts and took the Ellery Queen
book and lazed down by the river soaking up the summer sun.  The only noise
disturbing my peace were the shouts of the punters and their loads.  I read
little just listening and looking, admiring the bare legs and powerful
thighs of many of the student punters clad only in shorts and shirts.  Even
more delectable were the naked torsos of quite a few who wished to show
their rippling muscles as they pushed down the pole then lifted it up.  Ow,
I had muscle ache, too.  If that was a muscle!  But, I would be seeing my
Tris quite soon!

     There were two e-mails waiting for me when I returned.  The first from
Dr Masterton.  Yes.  She recognised the carving as being a copy of part of
the scene from the St Guthlac Roll.  The Angel handing the scourge to St
Guthlac.  Please would I let her know what was going on?  The second was
from Curt's father.  Yes, he would like to have all the documents and the
medal.  My duty was to take the box to Strelzen.  There was no two ways
about it - the message was clear - 'my duty'.  I would as I knew I must.

     So, I was waiting when Tris arrived hot from the office.  We were both
hot and we missed dinner in Hall as we luxuriated in post-coital bliss
after the most passionate love-making.  He was mine and I was his.  He was
so euphoric, too, over the offer of the flat.  We imagined how we might
furnish it and how we would spend our time in it.  We showered and dressed
and found a restaurant still open and I wonder if the rather dishy waiter
guessed our relationship as he was so attentive.  Back to bed for a final
session before sleep and an early start to the bus station and home for my
celebratory party.

     As soon as I appeared at the door I was enveloped in the most loving
hug from my Mother.  Dad and Toad were not far behind and I found Grandma
Foster was in residence as well.  After that, even more chaos as after
lunch next door, things had to be prepared for the evening here and there
was an influx of other visitors.  Uncle Francesco and Aldo had brought
Ernesto, Guido and young Pietro who was in awe of everything, especially as
Grandma Matteoli was in tow as well.  That lot were all staying at a local
hotel which even Grandma approved of and she was in a very good humour much
to Mum's relief.  The evening went in a whirl.  Several of my old school
friends had been rounded up and these were friends also graduating this
year.  Frankie had several of his pals there as well, Pugsy, Moggo and the
rest.  All, except Harpo, joining universities in the autumn.  A huge
buffet meal had been prepared and we were well-fed and watered and all
sorts of tales were told.  All were intrigued with our impending visit to
Rothenia.  Moggo said his father had been there.  He was an architect and
had been asked to advise on reconstructing a building after the troubles
before the King was installed.  "He says it's a most interesting place, but
strange."  Again, that word.  Strange.

     Sunday we had another gathering for even more as Adam, Nate and Jak
and Max came from Ulvescott.  This time it was lunch-time as Uncle
Francesco had arranged a typical Sunday Roast to be provided at the hotel
where they were all staying.  I managed to thank everyone and propose a
toast to all the family and friends.  I felt very happy surrounded by
family and so many friends.  Frankie was also in a particularly good mood.
He'd been asked to take the two young Arabs, Kasim and Wasim, round the
shops in Oxford Street to kit them out with suitable clobber to wear so as
not to stand out as students.  That is, he and Pugsy were going to advise
in tandem.  And...., here the sneers were most evident, I might have got
very good results in Finals but he and Pugsy would be staying at the
Dorchester Hotel over Monday night as there would be much to tell and do
and buy.  He and Pugsy would then be working for Mr Coombs on the building
site.  There was something else brewing as, after Adam had handed me a
letter from the Colonel, he, Mum and Frankie were in conference with Mum
laughing her head off.  I couldn't find out anything except that Mum just
giggled and said 'Wait and see'.

     The letter was quite short.  Wishing us well and saying that all at
the Legation were primed for the visit.  The hotel had been inspected and
was OK, but beware of anyone trying to sell or convert currency and not to
visit any of the seedier dives, run by probable criminal elements.  All in
all it was written in the most friendly and light-hearted manner but
underlying that tone was the clear message, 'You are on a mission, take
care'.

     But for Tris and me, Monday came too soon.  We had to pack and get
back to Cambridge to get ready for the flight on Tuesday.  Of course, we
had to catch up with all the tales of a super-dooper May Ball.  There was a
jointly signed note from Oliver and Zack which didn't leave much to the
imagination and apologised for the state of the sheets to be left for Sean
to launder.  Someone had also had a little too much to drink.  Otherwise
'Pity you missed it' was the oft-repeated remark from all we met still in
College.  We heard that two of the Hooray Henrys had ended up tossed in the
river, by their compatriots no less, for making inappropriate remarks about
allowing 'poufs and queers in polite company'.  As one of them was rumoured
to attend rather louche parties at another college renowned for it's
coterie of dear old queens we felt there was some justice in the world.
Curt came bouncing in to say he and Logan had surpassed themselves as
dutiful, and beautiful, waiters.  "Lolly didnae wear the kilt, we togged
him out in proper College kit...," He did a perfect imitation of the
Charles gesture of perfection, thumb and first finger circled and fingers
splayed.  "....I could have eaten him on the spot."  I said no doubt that
came later.  A Frankie twist of the lips, "We both came later!"

     The only moan from Curt was missing the Wet Tee-Shirt competition at
the Club.  I phoned Raph to find out the results and he said he and Hary
had come joint second out of a cast of thousands.  Eighteen actually,
including his brother and Josh and a couple of the boxers who came in the
first six. The winner was a body-builder type who came from Ipswich
flaunting the most grotesque set of muscles, all oiled and glistening, and
must have had a padded jockstrap as no one had equipment that size!  He got
the votes of all the 'screamers' as Raph politely put it.  He said their
suspicions were confirmed as they used Shawn's office to dry off and they'd
seen a non-dangling pair of minuscule bollocks as the top-heavy jerk tried
to take off his soaking jockstrap and almost fell over.  He then confessed
he'd been taking pills for years and warned them not to.  Hary said he
turned out not to be a jerk but was really friendly and as he was going to
kip down on the floor at the Club for the night they'd smuggled him into
his parents' house and had a happy threesome.  Raph said Hary's parents
were OK over it as Aaron turned out to be a very good pianist so all was
well.  They were going to Ipswich the next weekend and Shawn was planning a
replay for later!

     I collected another batch of congratulatory notes from the Porter's
Lodge including two letters of great interest.  The first, from James,
informed me I was allocated a room on Stair E for my meetings for tutorials
with students next year.  I would be sharing with three other tutors so to
arrange times to suit.  The second was a quick scribble from Gabe saying he
was off with Lorenzo to Italy pronto for three weeks but two things, one,
he'd been asked by Doc Anstruther- Lamb to tutor some new young bastards
next year and, two, he'd had a letter from Mr van Zyl of Phillips, van Zyl
and Partridge, who I might have heard of, asking if he would consider
working as office gopher for some dude name of Matteoli and Lo had had a
similar letter as he could read and write in Iti and they needed an
office-boy to make tea and translate.  Love from Lo as well and see you
when we get back!  Of course, when I showed Gabe's letter to Tris he had to
confess he'd known about the job offers.  He couldn't tell me as it was
confidential until Gabe and Lorenzo agreed.  I realised then I wouldn't
always hear everything that went on at the office - client confidentially -
and it had already started!

     In between all this I finished packing.  As I stuck odd bits of
clothing into corners of my case I picked up my old pencil-case and pushed
it into a sock and secured it in that with three coloured elastic bands.  I
placed it carefully between a couple of shirts already in making sure they
wouldn't be creased.  I closed the case and prepared the labels to be tied
on that and my hand luggage.  The precious wooden box would be going in
that.  Right, all was ready for the off.  Just hoping that Charles would
get us to Stansted in time.

     Not to worry.  He was a very careful driver and Tris and I luxuriated
in the new-smelling leather seats of the Lexus.  True, it wasn't one of the
larger models but... ...Lucky lad to have such a gift from Mother.

     "You have everything?" he asked as we exited the car at the drop-off
point and thanked him.

     "All ready and correct.  Passport, money and flight instructions in my
inside pocket," I said, "Seminar notes, lists of herbs, Ellery Queen and
the box in here."  I held up my hand luggage.  Not too big, my
shoulder-bag, just right to conform to size regulations.  "And keep the
College running smoothly."

     A smile and the usual nod.  "Let me know how things go," he said and
drove off.

     "Come on," said Tris, surveying the crowds descending from taxis and
buses, "We've got to book in and then there's security."

     That all went smoothly.  Mrs C-M's daughter had done a good job and at
just a few minutes after the appointed time we were aloft and on our way.
Rothenia here we come!


To be continued: