Date: Mon, 1 Jun 2009 20:23:33 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Marks:  Seq 19

		      Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
				 A Sequel

				    by

				   Joel


Seq 19:

             Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:
Mark Henry Foster                        The story-teller: Newly graduated.
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams        His well-proportioned boyfriend.
Francis Michael Foster                  Alias Toad/Gobbo   Mark's younger brother
Shelley Price-Williams                  Tris's sister
Adam Benjamin Carr                     Mark's cousin: newly appointed History Fellow
Ivo Richie Carr                               Ditto, as his twin, safely married diplomat
Sophia Carr                                    Their mother in Dorset
George Carr                                    Their father: A farmer
Victoria ['Tory] Carr                      Ivo's wife and heavily pregnant
Sir Henry Machin                          'Tory's father, something in the City
Lady Mary Machin                        'Tory's mother
Ignasz Zendener                             The hotel manager in Strelzen
Tomas, Igor, Frantischek;              Receptionists and students
Aloys zum Adamszberh                 Rector of the Rodolfer University
Jerzy zum Adamszberh                  His son, studying at Cambridge
Tadeuz Galenosz                            A botanist, also at Cambridge
Herr Diesselhorst                            A shifty Minister of the Interior
Father Artur     [Dr Wendel]          The Cardinal's secretary
Dr Claude Valentin                        Organist of the Cathedral of St Vitali
Andrei zu Glottenberh                    Rothenian Army Officer [Special Services]
Lucasz Voynovich                          Rothenian Army Officer [Signals Division]
David Vinodosj                              Taxi driver:  Probably secret police


			Monday afternoon and later:

     The Spa wasn't so crowded as it had been on Saturday but there was
quite a bustle of activity in the pool as a gaggle of lads, probably the
late teens from the Gymno, were racing up and down the lanes.  We, very
demurely, flopped about in the shallow end; flopped being the operative
word as the freedom of no swimsuit gave one a complete sense of liberation
I'd never experienced before in a pool.  Even at Unc's, although we
sunbathed nude on the upper terrace, there was the rule of 'trunks on' when
swimming.

     We were leaning against the end wall quietly discussing what we'd
heard from Ivo.  Tris was quite adamant.  "We mustn't take anyone or
anything here for granted.  The bugger with a hole in his foot and your
pencil case up his arse is only a pawn on one strand.  The errant copper
looks like another branch and even Ivo is wary of Andrei and his pal.  Do
we trust them or the Adjutant and David?  Or all four?  And one person I
definitely do not trust is sleazeball himself, that Minister for the
Interior.  The only interior he's interested in is probably the inside of
his wallet."

     I nodded.  "Who else have we met?  I don't think the academics or
musicians are on the make.  Father Artur seems to know more than he lets
on.  He must get lots of information as the Cardinal's secretary and
there's always the secrets of the confessional."

     "I think I would trust him," said Tris, "And I would go for the
Adjutant and David as well.  David seemed genuinely shocked when he saw
that photo of the bent copper and Ivo's had a lot of dealings with the
Adjutant and I would guess he's been vetted.  But, even Ivo has a slight
doubt about the aristocratic bunch."

     "We're seeing Jerzy and Tad tomorrow," I said, "There's no harm in
innocently asking about recent history.  Jerzy seems a very open sort and
he would, no doubt, have heard anything detrimental to the present
monarchy.  Tad would be the same, I'm sure.  They'll have seen the photos
in the papers I expect so we can ask them about your favourite smarmy
dumpling!"  The Minister's paunch had been tightly held in as he'd smiled
unctuously at the camera.

     "So we must just wonder who's listening in to Fraser and Brett
sticking it to each other and to Igor!" he said and waved.  He'd spotted
young Yniold who was looking most bright and cheerful.

     He slipped into the pool beside Tris.  "May I join you?"  Ever the
polite young man.  "Have you swimm...  No,..."  He raised a finger.
"... it is unregelmassig!.. ...Have you swum?"  We shook our heads and I
pointed to the churning figures in five of the lanes.  "Yes, students from
the Gymno.  But first, you are very famous.  My father showed me the
newspapers this morning and you were at that exhibition and then at the
opera with the Minister.  I saw I was there as well."  We were nodding.
"You have seen the pictures?  Good!  This morning I saw there is a boy
taking, I think you say, posters, to the notice boards.  I saw one and it
says you are with Anton Watzel at the organ of St Vitali.  Wednesday at
seven."  He held up a hand.  "We will all be there, Mutti, Papa, Isolde,
Ingo her boyfriend and me."

     "So there will be at least six there as Tris says he will go as well,"
I said, "And I still have to practice."

     I hoped a little English irony wouldn't be lost on him.

     "No," he said, "We will sit not together so you think there is more!
Good, Huh!"

     Tris did something I'd wanted to do.  He hugged the lovely nude boy to
his own naked side.  "Clever lad!  I'll sit behind you and make sure you
don't go to sleep."  The nude lad did not attempt to wriggle away but Tris
let him go.

     Yniold turned to him.  "I tell you that rude boy he was at church
yesterday and apologised to me but he is not here today.  He works."

     Before I could say he'd been working up to a climax with Tris stroking
him as well, there was a commotion at the deep end of the pool.  We got out
to have a look but Tris said it was just some kids larking about.  He
guided me to the attendant looking after our 'handbag' and towels rather
quickly and Yniold had to hurry to keep up with us.

     "We'll have coffee at the kiosk near the trees," Tris said, "There's
plenty of open space just beyond there to stretch out."

     I realised the hurry as I glanced back as we left the pool building.
The lads had been dunking the 'hairy man' and he was shouting at them and
waving his arms about.  I just saw the final act as one of the boys barged
into the backs of his knees and there was another loud splash and a
screech.  I guessed he'd received a blow to the balls as well as the
torrent of Rothenian sounded anything but polite and there was laughter
from the lads.

     Yniold must have been aware that someone was being dealt with
unceremoniously but was unconcerned.

     "I think that was a stupid man who asked a boy for something.  My
friends say they punish them always."  He made a fist upwards movement.

     Well, that would keep him from following us for a while, but we hadn't
spotted him on our way up to the Spa.  Unless he was lying in wait.

     Anyway, we ignored the possibility that he would still be snooping
around us and had a very pleasant afternoon.  There was little chat.
Yniold was just as happy as us in consolidating his tan.  We did have a
fruit juice and laughed as we each had to go for a pee in the open ironwork
urinal.  While I was there three lads had a 'how high' contest and one
managed to splash the others and raced off with the other two chasing him.
He was caught by two others of the group and held down and tickled by all
four, screeching at the same time, until an official - naked save for an
armband - waved a finger at them.  All rather entertaining and not what one
would have seen on Brighton beach at home!  Especially the five hardons as
the lads stood and were reprimanded - for being noisy, according to
Yniold's translation.  Yes, Rothenian lads were hunky and well-hung!

     All too soon it was four o'clock and time to go back to the hotel to
get ready for the practice session.  Frantishek was just finishing a long
day's stint and leaving as we got to the front door.  He greeted us like
old friends - well with a shy smile and then a grin as Tris smiled at him.
He also greeted Yniold warmly and, speaking in English, said he'd heard
from a friend on the basketball team that Pyotor had scored more points
than anybody else.

     "I will walk with you home, Franzi," said Yniold, "I will just say
good afternoon to Mark and Tristan."  He turned to us.  "Thank you for your
company, I have enjoyed being with you.  I hope I have not been a
nuisance."

     We shook hands very correctly, then I stuck a paw out to 'Franzi'
whose smile was radiant.  Tris grabbed his hand next and gave him a real
bone-crusher.  Tris then naughtily screwed up his eyes, pursed his lips and
just about blew him a kiss, luckily so Yniold didn't see.  I guessed a boy
that night would relive such a moment with some very powerful results.  "I
will be here in the morning," he just managed to say.

     'With big black rings under your eyes, darling,' I thought, 'and a
palsied right arm if I'm not much mistaken!'

     Concentrating on that little drama I was missing what Yniold was
saying.  I turned to him and caught up with "...I must talk to Pyotor on
his handy this evening to congratulate him.  He is such a good player."

     Tris had finished with Franzi who turned his gaze on me.  "Thank you,"
he said and bedroom eyes weren't in it.  'Fuck me rigid' was the look.
Keep off, Tris, I thought.  It's a good job we're on the second floor or
that boy would be clambering though a window.  He was one sexually charged
little bundle and he was walking home with Yniold.  Watch it, Pyotor, you
might be having sloppy seconds!!

     No, it was OK.  Yniold was in charge.  "Let us go and you can tell me
about the basketball."  Off they went, not quite hand in hand but
chattering in Rothenian, with much gesticulation on the part of Frantishek
who was reliving the description of the game he had heard about.

     There were two more new guests in the lobby.  Obviously French and
quite elderly.  Tomas was hovering, ready to take their bags upstairs.  I
hoped his 'shits' were better.  My French was fairly rudimentary but they
were repeatedly asking whether the room had 'deux lits', 'en-suite' et 'un
fauteuil pour madame' and Ignasz was patience itself, 'oui, monsieur',
'oui, madame'.

     "How do you do it, Tris?" I said when we got to our room and flopped
onto our beds, "That boy's masturbatory fantasies this evening will be
centred on you and if Yniold gets raped in a dark alley on the way home
it'll be you to blame!"

     Tris laughed.  "I don't think Yniold is in danger.  If anything, I
think Franzi might be a more than willing partner in any little escapade.
Franzi's got the hots for Yniold.  You didn't see me nod my head towards
Yniold while I was holding his warm little hand and that smile was the
response to that."

     "All I saw was you blowing kisses.  He just about shot a load for at
least the third time in your presence."

     "I will admit I noticed a pubic movement at the time."  He reached out
and tapped my arm.  "I was just checking that I could still cause erections
in more than one desirable male."

     "Pah," I said, "And what gives you that idea even with me.  I might be
having images of Pugsy, or Oliver, or Logan..."

     I got no further.  He rolled over the small gap between the beds and
proved his thesis.  Twelve minutes later two completely stripped off lads
tried unsuccessfully to share the shower cubicle to remove the dampness and
debris of a quick 'Herrengasse'.

     I was almost dressed when my mobile chirruped.  A text message from
Ivo.  'Two mums arrived.  Six tomorrow food here'.  I texted back 'Ta will
starve until then'.  This slight extra interruption meant two lads had to
hurry to finish dressing ready to catch a tram up towards the Cathedral
square.

     Dr Valentin was sitting just inside the side porch.  His wrist was
bandaged and he was flexing his fingers while talking to Anton who was
standing looking out.  Anton seemed relieved when he saw us.  "Good
evening, gentlemen," said Dr Valentin as we hove into view, "Anton and I
have been discussing the order of the recital.  Perhaps you would start
with the Voluntary.  It is not known here and I think it will tempt
everyone.  Anton can then play two pieces, one by a friend who has just
finished in the composition class here."  He smiled up at me.  "I have not
asked but would you play the Alain next for us.  I studied with his sister
for a while."  Wow!  Perhaps he could tell me how to play it better.
"Anton wants to play some Buxtehude we have been studying, a Canzona and
then a Prelude and Fugue.  The Wesley, again unknown here although I am
fond of it.  Anton thinks the Mozart Fantasy in f minor would be good after
that and you will finish with the Rheinberger.  It should be just over the
hour we have been given."

     As he finished speaking so a few people filed out of the interior.  He
acknowledged most with the usual bow of the head.

     "Good, evening prayers have finished, we can go in."

     Anton led the way and we followed into the dark interior out of the
sun.  There seemed to be a great feeling of serenity as we filed along to
the doorway leading up to the organ loft.  Anton flipped a switch and a
brighter light illuminated the worn stairway.

     "Father Franz-Josep insisted," said Anton pointing to a bulb.

     "Only because I might have broken my neck," said Dr Valentin
good-humouredly.  "The Father keeps a hand on the money but as I am cheaper
because of the Rodolfer post I hold he pays two euros for new bulbs.  I
tell you, Anton, watch your step!"

     Once in the loft I asked if I might look through my pieces while Anton
played.  I knew the Greene off by heart and really didn't need to worry
about the Alain or the Wesley as both would be under my fingers.  I needed
to be confident about the pedal board and that's what I needed practice on.

     Tris watched for a while as Dr Valentin registered for Anton and
actually pulled two of the stops needed for the new piece.  That was quite
a tour de force.  Very modern, very spiky, with cross rhythms and chromatic
runs and chords.  Anton was a very deft performer.  I envied his finger
work in some of the very black passages in that particular piece.  I heard
Dr Valentin giving him encouragement.  Then came the Buxtehude.  Quite
different.  Again, a most competent performance with the organ sounding
just right for that baroque piece.  When he finished Dr Valentin pointed
out two passages to be thought about.  He turned to me.

     "Mark, the rest of this evening is for you."

     Anton smiled.  "I will be here at six in the morning to practise."

     I did my very best to play as well as Anton.  It was amazing.  The
organ seemed to respond to all I wanted.  Dr Valentin and Anton registered
and I had only to think about playing.  I played the Greene Voluntary
first.  Then repeated it as Dr Valentin wanted to hear a different
registration.  He was nodding as I finished.  "Like that!" he said.
"Please, the Alain."

     My almost favourite piece sounded so different.  My fingers and feet
played the notes but the organ expanded all my thoughts and feelings.
Those little melodies, the curlicues and the haunting passages were
magnified as it were into something so glorious that when I reached that so
quiet ending on a single stop on the Echo the shimmering luminance of it
was almost too much to let go.  I sat transfixed.  Let me play it like that
on Wednesday, I thought.  I turned to look at the three silent figures who
were now behind me.  Dr Valentin was standing with his fingers interlocked
and pressed against his lips.  He reminded me of James Tanner.  He unlocked
his fingers and looked over my shoulder at the music on the desk.  Anton
leaned towards me and held my right arm.

     "That was so good," he whispered.

     "There is little for me to say," said Dr Valentin very quietly.  "Just
phrasing.  Let us leave it.  Perhaps tomorrow."

     That piece gave me such confidence that when I came to the opening of
the Rheinberger I was ready.  Dr Valentin gave me a running commentary
lesson and my eyes were opened to new ways of thinking about a piece of
romantic genre music.  Even my feet obeyed all my commands even though I
had to make certain I felt for the correct pedal many times.

     Seven o'clock came all too soon, but we still had to eat.  Tris had
disappeared.  When the three of us went down the now well-lighted stairs he
was at the bottom smiling broadly in the company of Father Artur.  .
     "The sound down here is glorious," he said, "You've had quite an
audience already and I think they'll all be coming on Wednesday."

     "That is true," said Father Artur, "Even old Gregor Moskovski our
Sacristan was singing in that piece I have not heard before."  He hummed
the opening of the fugal part of the Greene Voluntary.

     "Artur," said Dr Valentin, "I do not know why you became a priest when
you have such a fine voice."  He turned to us.  "You should hear him when
we have a college feast and the wine is plentiful!"

     Father Artur snorted.  "Claude!  Stop it.  Just because we Rothenians
know how to enjoy ourselves!  If there is a sin of pride I am proud of
being chosen to be a priest!  Anyway, take the boys as Marie-Josette will
be waiting to give them a real French treat." He said something in
Rothenian to Dr Valentin who nodded and smiled.  He turned to me, "There is
an hour tomorrow from four o'clock if you like.  Claude will be here as
there is a Chapter meeting at two."  He turned to him.  "And don't forget
or Franz-Josep will switch off your blower."  The usual shaking of hands
took place.  "I will see you tomorrow at ten," he said and strode off his
cassock swirling around him.

     We followed Dr Valentin out into the sunlight again.  It was still hot
but he led us along a side path shaded by pollarded trees.  I walked by his
side while Tris and Anton walked behind.

     "I have a house by the Cathedral," he said, "It was a house for a
canon many years ago but it has been made comfortable.  Why a canon needed
three bedrooms I do not know, but you can guess!  I think he had aunts!"

     We stopped at a door at the front of a substantial-looking stone
building.  Dr Valentin waved his hand at the structure.

     "Not all mine," he explained, laughing, "The accountant, the
choirmaster, the head verger, we all have part."  He winked at us.  "No
priests around here."  He turned and pointed at the next building.  "We
call their house the Hilton!  Five star and two Michelin stars for the
cooking!"

     Without him realising the front door behind him had been opened and
Madame Valentin was standing there.

     "And how many stars here?" she asked

     He was unfazed.  "My dear, you have met all the boys before and they
are starving and ready for your four Michelin star menu..."

     She beckoned us in and each of us got a Gallic triple kiss.  "Take no
notice of him," she said, "And how was it?" She asked me.

     I said it was perfect and I hoped I could do even better on Wednesday.

     She nodded.  "Claude says if the organ likes you it sounds quite
different.  What do you say, Anton?"

     Anton had been remarkably silent most of the time.  He seemed a little
overawed by everything.  He was an excellent player but otherwise seemed
rather withdrawn.  However, it was clear he was well-liked by Madame
Valentin and he thawed as the evening progressed.  And what a meal!  At
least six courses served with style and great expertise by none other than
the waitress from the little restaurant.  It turned out Madame was teaching
her the fine art of French cooking as she wanted to open her own restaurant
and needed to be able to deal with temperamental chefs as Dr Valentin said,
with the usual twinkle.  It turned out that both their sons, in their
twenties, worked as trainee chefs in Paris and would like to join in
Jelka's enterprise once it was planned and ready.

     I felt very well fed, but not bloated, when the meal was over and a
superb brandy was produced.  "This is local," explained Dr Valentin, "A
small distillery set up when the Communists went.  This is from their
second year so it is now quite mature."

     I said one of the things we had to do while here was to source herbs
and plants for the College liqueur.  I explained about Jerzy and Tad and he
nodded.

     "The Botanic Garden here is very famous.  There is a fine statue of
King Heinrich in the front so you will know where to go.  He founded it
sometime around 1820, I think.  I visit often.  My father was a wine grower
and my brother still has the vineyard.  In Burgundy.  Good claret!  The
wine we had this evening.  I must not boast, but that was my brother's.  I
am sure they will help you with any enquiries you make."

     It certainly was good even with my limited knowledge.  And I had
another thought.  Where did the brandy for the liqueur usually come from?
I would have to phone James Tanner and ask.

     It was nearly eleven when I looked at my watch.  I wondered what time
the trams stopped running?  No problem.  We were still chatting with Anton,
now quite relaxed, telling us about his Easter tour of organs in South
Germany when the doorbell rang.

     "When you are ready, your taxi is here," Dr Valentin said with his
usual grin.

     Of course, who should come in then, but David.  "I was just going off
duty," he said, "Hi Anton, I have brother Philip riding shotgun tonight,
just taking him home!  Thought you might like a lift."

     It turned out Anton's brother was an IT specialist with the whatever
section of police David, the Adjutant and his sidekick were in.  A final
flurry of Gallic kisses and much thanks from us drew the evening to a
close.  Philip was a larger and older version of Anton and the way David
called him 'my favourite nerd' we wondered if this was another partnership.
We dropped the pair in a leafy avenue off Domstrasse and said we would see
Anton next day in the afternoon.

     At the hotel we sat in the car while David said to always phone the
Adjutant if anything worried us and he thought 'our friend' would be giving
the Spa a wide berth as he had bruises from the encounter with the lads and
they had threatened him with more if he accosted them again.  "He's not
like that," said David with a grin, "It's just he's not very intelligent
and is so used to acting under orders he hasn't realised that talking to
naked boys might give them the wrong idea."

     "Do you go to the Spa?" Tris asked as if butter wouldn't melt...

     "I only talk to big boys there.  Got to have something worth talking
about!  I hear some of the English..."  He laughed and held thumb and first
finger about two inches apart and, as Tris moved towards him from the back
seat, rapidly changed and held his two forefingers at least seven inches
apart.

     "Good," said Tris, "I might talk to you sometime as long as you have
plenty to talk about."

     David laughed.  "That is good.  I must tell Philip."

     Oh, cats out of bags?

     I decided there and then to say about Andrei and his friend.  I really
had the feeling they were honest and true even though we'd had our doubts.
I felt in my pocket and held the keys as I said about Andrei and that his
friend Lucasz Voynovich was an Army Officer in the Signals Division.  Any
qualms vanished.  David smiled.

     "I can tell you.  We have already asked him to help.  The Adjutant and
his Commanding Officer were at Training School together so all is OK."  He
nodded.  "You had fears, eh?"  Both Tris and I nodded.  "I know them well.
Andrei and I were at school together.  We were friends."  The ways he
emphasized 'friends' meant a lot.  "Also, his grandmother and my
grandmother are related.  Do not worry."

     "You knew we were apprehensive?"  I asked and let the keys slip from
my fingers.

     "I think you would have said earlier about Lucasz.  You are very
careful."  He laughed.  "You are like your cousin.  He has not been here
long but he is trusted and, as you say, there are no flies on him!  You
would be good Rothenians."  He pointed at Tris.  "And him!"

     He was still laughing as we said goodnight and he drove off.  I looked
at Tris.  We smiled.  We were both relieved.

     In the lobby Tomas was pacing up and down and rearranging brochures.
He was not pleased.

     "Igor is not here."  He looked at his watch.  "He is with those
English.  At that club!  They will be ill."  He pointed at his crotch.
"There is much ill there.  Dirty men.  They get naughty and get ill."  He
mimed giving an injection.  "Some boys at Gymno have shots.  Sell their..."
He pointed at a calendar hanging beside the reception desk where be-jeaned
buttocks of several grinning lads were advertising some latest local
fashion for trendy teens.  Not quite Matteoli, though!  "Plenty boy
there..." He made jabbing movements with his outstretched forefinger.
"Then doctor.  I know.  Three boys in Technik class with me, I know.
Money, yes," he shook his head, "Not good.  Need clean boy, then yes!  Not
dirty man!"

     Ho!  So Tomas was agreeable that clean boys could do the dirty but he
was really worried about Igor and whether he would be leading Brett and
Fraser into temptation.

     "I don't think the two English boys will do anything.  They are
sensible," I said, "They will make sure nothing happens to Igor, either."

     "I hope," said Tomas, "But I must wait until they arrive."

     Tris also said he was not to worry and was he better?  He did stop
pacing.

     "Thank you, I am well now.  Not do run in and out all time.  Good
pills.  My mother glad as well.  She thinks her medicine was good."  He
wrinkled his nose and shook his head.  "I think she has wrong herb.  Make
go not stop!"

     Not wanting to hear more about his bowels we said a quick goodnight
and scooted up the stairs.

     Tris joined me on my bed and we had our usual review of the day.
First we just agreed that we should have no misgivings about the two groups
we had met, the military and the 'secret service'.  I held out the
key-ring.  "These were the key!"  I said and dodged the fist which he aimed
at my upper arm.

     "I guessed you had a good reason to urge you to say what you did," he
said and the fist changed to a hand and his arm snaked round my shoulders
and drew me towards him.  "I think we have all the goodies on our side
whatever happens."

     He held me close and said again how well the organ sounded in the
Cathedral.  But there was more.

     "I had a wander around and I think I found the St Guthlac's Chapel.
There are a number of side chapels and nearly all were open fronted but
there was one with a locked door and I think that is the one.  There was no
one about to ask and I couldn't see any leaflets.  I think they had all
been cleared up for the night.  We'll ask Father Artur tomorrow but it's
funny he hasn't offered to show us the chapel so far."

     "Perhaps he doesn't have a key, but Ivo said he and 'Tory had been in
it so perhaps it's only open at certain times," I said, "The whole business
seems all so strange.  We'll just have to wait."

     The waiting time was reduced considerably as the pair of us were then
lost in a quiet quest for ultimate satisfaction.  "I hope Franzi's
self-administered actions tonight will have been as pleasurable as all
this," I whispered in Tris's ear as we nuzzled each other while getting our
breath back.

     "His pleasure could never equate with ours," Tris said quietly and
firmly and we fell asleep entwined on my single bed.


                         Tuesday

     Sometime in the night he must have roused himself because when I woke
in the morning I was alone.  I got up and showered and shaved and Tris was
still sleeping in his own bed.

     "Up!  Up!" I said and poked him in the back.

     "Already awake," he said as he rolled over.

     "Trust me to get up first and let you have a lie-in," I said giving
him a quick morning kiss.  "Why creep out in the middle of the night?"

     He laughed.  "You fell asleep straight away and I didn't want to sleep
on the wet patch!"

     Cheek!  There was no wet patch.  All had been mopped.  I just ignored
it!  I will repay saith the Lord!  Just at that moment my mobile gave the
text message sound.  A message from Yniold?  I called it up.  'Ambulance
just gone'.  Wow!  We assumed 'Tory was on her way to the hospital.  No use
phoning as we guessed Ivo and the Mums would be in tow.  Sit back and wait!
Breakfast called, in case we had to starve!

     We were just about to tackle the hot croissants at breakfast in the
caf‚, having been greeted with a really warm smile by the waitress, when
Fraser and Brett came bowling in also with big smiles.  They ordered a full
cooked breakfast at five euros each.

     As they settled back to wait Brett must have seen us looking a bit
puzzled.  A full cooked breakfast was not consistent with drawing in one's
horns.

     He looked around as if to see if there were others near enough to
listen in.  Satisfied there weren't he leaned over towards us.  "Gotta tell
you this.  We're hiring a car so we can go up to this place tomorrow about
the bloody gingkos."

     "Thought you were almost broke," said Tris.

     Brett looked at Fraser who was also bursting to tell something and
nodded at him.  "If we tell you it's between us, eh?" said Fraser.

     We both nodded in unison.  What the hell.  Tomas had said they were
going to the gay club with Igor.  Had they danced naked on the bar and had
five euro notes tucked in their foreskins in payment for their performance?

     Brett was the one with the greater itch to tell us.  "You know we were
going to the Botanic Garden?"  Again a nod in unison.  "They told us where
to go for the plants and that it would take ages by bus.  We told you we
were going to take Igor for lunch?"  More nods.  "Well we told him about
going and not having enough money to hire a car and he said we could earn
it."

     Two pairs of eyes almost popped out of heads as two listeners cycled
through various scenarios for two hunky lads 'earning money'.
Pole-dancing?  Giving head to the pianist?  Musical mast...

     "...I'll tell the rest," said Fraser, interrupting my silent imagery.
"It's OK, it was all legal.  He took us to a studio and they photographed
us..."  He faltered.  His courage left him.

     "Oh, come on, Fido, I'll tell them," said Brett.  "Igor said they paid
well for photos where boys undress.  He said with three of us it would be
more.  So, what the hell, we'd been to the Spa and we're not exactly
lacking."  True, it had been noted that 'Yoggers Stags' were a good advert
for hunky British lads in all departments and well up to Rothenian
standards.  There were more nods of agreement and encouragement from us.
"Anyway, they got us to sign some sort of contract and we were told as soon
as we went through into the photographic studio we should start to
undress...."

     Fraser's slight timidity had gone.  "...They said it would be better
if we helped each other," he continued and laughed.  "We both helped Igor
and we had him almost stripped when he was told to get our kit off."

             It was a duologue as Brett took over for the next installment.
"There were three guys with cameras taking the photos and it was funny, we
never gave it a thought.  Never been undressed by anyone before..."

     "...Except your Mum," said Fraser and Brett raised two fingers.

     We then had to wait while their plates piled with ham, eggs, sausages,
hash browns, mushrooms and tomatoes were placed in front of them.  In
between mouthfuls the rest of the tale unfolded.

     Fraser was first.  "It was a bit arousing.  It fact, very arousing and
the camera blokes were doing all sorts of shots and we got a bit carried
away."

     "A bit carried away!  You should have seen him," said Brett waving his
fork at Fraser.

     "Go on, it was so artificial we just didn't care," said Fraser.  He
lowered his voice.  "That bloody Igor caught hold of me first and before I
knew it I'd shot a load all over that bugger there and, before we could say
anything, Igor was jacking him off.  Not that it bothered him, he and that
Jimmy Durrant had been whacking each other off since their hairs
sprouted...."

     "...Shh," said Brett, "And what about you and Micky Goodwin.  Had
rulers marked off as well and going neck and neck until he moved and you
had to use your own right hand and worried if your dick was smaller that
Whopper O'Ryan's."

     "And was it?" asked Tris, interrupting the flow.  Bastard!

     "'Cause it was!" said Brett, "Not called Whopper for nowt."

     "And what happened next?" I asked, almost plaintively, hoping to get
the story going again.

     Fraser rolled his eyes heavenwards ignoring the sizeist jibe.  "I got
the full force and the blokes were up close and I had to twist and turn to
show off what he'd done while they went click, click, click!  Bloody
fantastic!"

     "His efforts or theirs?"  Tris was at it again.

     "Both," said Brett quite proudly, "Don't mind saying, but I do fire a
good amount."

     "Stop boasting, cretin!" said Fraser laughing.

     "Must be all that protein," said Tris pointing to the rapidly
disappearing mound of food.

     He was ignored other than a wrinkling of Fraser's nose. "What happened
next was quite spontaneous.  I never thought about it and I don't think he
did either, but we both went for Igor's cock and the sods went mad." His
shoulders heaved and Brett also burst out laughing which drew the attention
of several others in the caf‚ who I hope were far enough away not to
hear why there was so much hilarity.

     "Bloody click, click, click, and getting right up close....."  Brett
had to stop as tears were running down his cheeks.

     Fraser was giggling almost uncontrollably, too, but managed to
continue.  "...Fucking Igor only sprayed all over the lenses of two of the
cameras," he whispered across the table, "They were effing and blinding, I
suppose in their language, and were trying to clean the lenses but the
third bloke was laughing 'cause he'd got the lot."

     "Yeah," said Brett who had calmed down, "We hadn't realised but his
was a cine camera and he played the last five minutes back to us on his lap
top after.  Said the bit where he'd got him spunking all over the lenses
would be worth a mint."

     "And the car?" Tris asked, cleverly not asking how much they were
paid.  It brought the desired information.

     "Car's OK," said Brett, "Five hundred euros each in our hands and if
we go in before we fly off there might be more."

     "Bloody hell!" said Fraser forking up a huge slice of ham, "Who'da
thought you could get paid so much for something you usually do yourself
for free!"

     Interesting.  We'd heard Igor always seemed to have money.  Was he a
'wank for cash' model?  Or, did he get paid for 'enticing' others to wank
sessions?  And the two lads were quite blase about the whole incident.
Still, five hundred euros for blowing a load and the undressing beforehand
sounded easy money.  But....

     "Did they say where the photos would be published?" I asked.

     Brett looked at Fraser.  "Never asked," Fraser said, "There were
plenty of just head and shoulders on display in the office."

     "Not worried if they appear on the Net?" Tris asked.

     "Hadn't thought about that," said Brett.  He paused, then shook his
head.  "I'm not particularly worried.  What about you, Fido?"

     "I don't know.  It all happened rather quick.  Especially the last
bit.  Never gave it a thought." He shrugged his shoulders.  "Someone would
have to know us well to spot who we were.  Bugger it!  Five hundred euros
is five hundred euros and I don't think my Granny is likely to see me
firing my wad!"

     Minds boggled!

     They wanted to know why we were so smartly dressed.  We told them we
were visiting the Palace Archive to see if we could locate where a friend's
family came from and we thought we had better be presentable.  We said
nothing about our proposed trip to the Botanic Garden.  They said they
would be booking the car this morning and then have a drive and a snoop
around the local area and spend the afternoon at the Spa sunning
themselves.  "Might see Igor there," said Brett with a wink as we got up to
leave, "He's taking us out for dinner this evening!  Plenty cash!"  He made
the general Continental thumb and two fingers gesture of 'money'.  I should
think so!  Five hundred euros!

     We strolled in a very leisurely fashion weaving in and out of the
various roads and passageways up towards the Palace.  I knew Tris was
keeping an eye out for any followers.  At one point I did note a couple of
workmen who seemed to have nothing to do except stand and chat and look up
and down the main road next to the Rodolferplaz.  It was just on five to
ten when we reached the large wooden door with 'Tabularium' carved in the
stonework above it.  We pulled the handle on a rod which had in Rothenian,
German and English 'Pull'.  A young man opened the door.  We did the head
bow and, silently, he led us in through a passage into a large, book-lined
office.  Father Artur was already there with a middle-aged very academic
looking man.

     He introduced us to Herr Professor Doctor Sandor Sinkiewicz the Palace
Archivist and the younger man, Doctor Paul Mossman, on loan from Harvard,
who, up to that moment, did not know we were two English lads.
Conversation up to then, it transpired had been in German for his benefit
as he was fluent in that language and he hadn't realised that 'die
jugendlichen', 'the young men', referred to us.  After that conversation
flowed.  He was looking at the history of the country in the 1870s in
relation to the rise of Germany and the effect on neighbouring states such
as Rothenia.  The big problem was the loss of records during the interwar
First Republic, the Nazi era and then the Communists.  Something seemed
familiar but whatever it was eluded me for the moment.  Anyway the
Professor took over.  He spoke good English but with quite a heavy Slavic
accent.  He also explained that much of the major holdings of the various
libraries and archives had been looted or destroyed.  The Palace Archive
had been luckier than some because one of his predecessors had rallied some
of the soldiers who were left guarding the Palace in 1939 and they had
walled up a whole section of the underground book stacks.

     Of course, that reminded me of the elusive thought but I didn't butt
in.  He said that one section saved were some of the manuscripts and
records about the orders of chivalry.  I took out the photograph of the
Baron and he recognised the badge immediately as that of the Order of Henry
the Lion First Class.  Paul Mossman's ears pricked up when I went through
the family tree of the recent Wildenstejn family including Julius, Curt's
grandfather.

     "He wrote a book," he said, "It is mentioned but I have never been
able to locate a copy.  I know he sketched in things I'm interested in but
it was mainly about later happenings in the country."

     "There is a copy," I said, "Curt's father has it.  Apparently all the
rest were burnt."

     He looked overjoyed.  "Please let me have his address I must visit
him," he said.

     "There's more," I said, really enjoying myself and I could see Father
Artur was eyeing me and grinning.  "There is a strange college in Cambridge
called Michaelhouse and in the stacks is all the work done by a don called
Herridge who must have been in Rothenia in the early 1900's.  Boxes of it!"

     I think Dr Mossman nearly keeled over with excitement.  "Herridge!  A
very elusive man.  He wrote two articles on Bismarck and I have never been
able to follow them up."

     The Professor held up a finger.  "All that is for later.  Dr Wendel
says you have more photographs."  Oh, of course, Father Artur must also be
an academic doctor as a historian.  I fished out the other photos and laid
them on the desk.

     "This must be the Baron and his wife and the house," I said.

     The Professor picked up a powerful magnifying glass and went over the
photograph very carefully nodding all the time but said nothing.

     "Apparently," I went on, "There is a mausoleum or something on the
left hand side of the house with an inscription."  I pointed to the last
photo.  "I'm not sure how to pronounce it.  It's 'Veschuttzegen' and Dr
Stein suggests it is like the German word for 'guardian'."

     The Professor was not a demonstrative man but I could sense he was
getting excited but still remained silent.

     I pulled out the keys.  He did a double take.  "That key," he pointed
to the silver one with the eagle feathers above the ring, "I have seen a
drawing of that.  It is in a manuscript here but there is nothing other
than the drawing.  But wait.  Let me tell you what I have deduced from the
photographs."  He stroked his rather luxuriant moustache.  "First, I will
tell you I have made many journeys around this country but there are still
places I do not know.  But, it is clear that this photograph...," He
pointed at the one showing the house with the couple in front of it.
"...was taken, I would say in 1925 or so and the house shape is typical of
what is left of the bourgeois architecture of the Tirolen region.  It is
less decorated, though."  He walked over to a large map of the country
displayed on the wall.  "Here it is."  He pointed to the lower right hand
side of the map.  "It is a mountainous region in part with many valleys
with streams that run into the two rivers.  Here the Starel, which you see
in Strelzen, and over the other side is the Ebrendt which forms part of the
border of our country."

     "Are there photographs or maps of that region here?" Tris asked
picking up the magnifying glass and looking at the house picture.

     The Professor shook his head.  "The Nazis took all those records and
commandeered all big houses which might be near the border.  Many were
destroyed and you can still see piles of rubble when you go along some of
the roads.  Some houses survived and in the Communist era were used as
schools, hospitals or barracks.  Families were displaced and many who could
afford it fled before 1940 or in 1948.  My own family went into what is now
the Czech Republic and my Grandfather, although a highly trained engineer,
worked as a farmhand.  People went where they could disappear.  I was able
to study at the University in Prague but only under my Grandmother's name.
I came back to Rothenia as soon as the Communists left.  We have not been
able to claim anything we lost as deeds and other documents have all
disappeared.  The government has said that whatever is ours will be
returned if things are found."  He turned to Father Artur.  "The Rector has
been fortunate because there were documents hidden at the farmhouse, is
that not so?"

     "Yes, but documents are turning up all the time," Father Artur said,
"Recently, in the basement of the Rathaus in Luchau two chests of deeds
were found and are being studied now in our Law Faculty."

     "What about the house?" asked Tris, "I can see that some of the
windows have carvings above them.  Looks like bunches of leaves."

     The Professor nodded.  "They are acanthus leaves, I think.  In our
folklore it is a protective plant because it has prickly leaves."

     "Don't they have acanthus leaves on Greek architecture?  Round
columns?" Tris was pointing to the two columns which framed the front
entrance of the house.  "Is that significant?"

     "It may be," said the Professor taking the magnifier from Tris and
peering again.  "If we can identify the exact architecture we may be able
to get somewhere."  He shook his head sadly.  "Unfortunately our
Architecture Faculty was a casualty of the recent troubles." He did smile
slightly.  "But I am certain it is in that region.  I have seen something
else.  Behind the house it is not in focus but there is a hilltop with
perhaps some ruins.  My guess is that the house is built...."

     "....in a fertile valley, with a stream close by," I said.

     The Professor stood up straight and looked at me.  "Exactly.  Those
were the words I would have used."

     I nodded.  "Something I think Dr Stein said and I heard it clearly
again just then."  I didn't say anything else but I realised I had been
gripping the silver key so hard the eagle feather top had left an imprint
in my fingers.  There was a distinct stillness in the room.  "That word
keeps going round in my head, too.  The word on the small
building. 'Guardian' Dr Stein said."

     "Yes, let's think about that."  He looked at the photo of the word.
"I am sure it's an old word, perhaps even in dialect."

     "It is," said Father Artur, "I have come across it in medieval
manuscripts with various spellings.  It certainly means 'guardian'.  But we
are not sure what is guarded."

     Not sure?  Father Artur, you are being a little economical with the
truth, I thought.  I know it is the box.  But, true, we are not sure what
is in the box.  And we need your knowledge of medieval history of the
country to help pinpoint when the rings were made and when the St Guthlac
'stone' chapel was founded, and why.  No one spoke

     "Let us look at what records we have for the Order of Henry the Lion,"
the Professor said, breaking the silence abruptly as he went over to a
large cabinet in the corner of the room.

     This was made up of wide, not very deep drawers, like a map cabinet.
He pulled open the third drawer down.

     "These are some of the copies of the Royal Warrants proclaimed when
the order was conferred.  Again, not many remain, but I found this one
dated 1766 which seems to be relevant."

     First he put on a pair of cotton gloves then drew out a scroll of
parchment or vellum from the drawer.  He unrolled it carefully weighting
down the corners with brass weights.

     "Perhaps Dr Wendel will help me.  It is in old Rothenian and is, I
think you say, flowery.  I'll translate a little.  'To my most trusty and
most faithful servant Leopoldus Gustavus chatelain..."  I gave a little
gasp.  Not noted by the others intent on what the Professor was saying.
The burnt documents had a possible 'Leopold'.  Was it this one?  I stood
motionless as the Professor continued.  "...and governor of the castle -
the word used doesn't mean a fortress but somewhere lived in - of
Wildewalmars - at least that is what it looks like..."

     Father Artur picked up the magnifying glass and studied the document
closely.  "I would agree.  There is a mark on the surface which hides part
of those letters."  He scanned forwards a bit but the Professor wanted to
go on and didn't seem too pleased that Father Artur had looked further on

     "Yes, I could see that.  Now, 'of Wildewalmars and the most honoured -
and here is an extended form of that word.  It is very long and is not
clearly written. 'Vesaufbechuttahren'" he said it slowly and very
distinctly.  "In my opinion it combines two ideas.  Perhaps both 'keeper'
and 'guardian'."

     Father Artur bent over the manuscript again.  He shook his head.  "I
have never seen that word before.  It does have elements of 'aufbewahren'
which means 'keeper' as well as some of the other one.  I think I would
agree."  He looked at the Professor who was stroking his moustache again
and looking rather smug.

     The Professor pointed at the next part of the text.  "'keeper of' and
here it is not clear again, the word could be either 'schloss' or
'schluss'.  The second is very near the German word 'schlussel' which means
key.  So 'castle' or 'key'?  We have a choice."

     "Why not both?" asked the ever pragmatic Tris.

     The so far silent Dr Mossman looked over Father Artur's shoulder at
the document.  "I agree.  It could be both.  The house and the key."  He
pointed at the photo of the house.  "My father is an architect and I spent
many hours as a boy going through all his books of architectural styles.  I
think that house dates from about 1750.  It may be in Rothenia but it's a
fair copy of English Palladian style and there are examples in Bath in
England where I think it originated.  I visited there on my tour of England
before I came on to Germany and then here.  Dad was so keen I should see
that city and the architecture.  I bet someone from here had a contact, a
visiting architect, or even went to the Spa in Bath for the cure."

     "There's a Spa here.  Do you think there might be a connection?" said
Tris, "The front entrance is quite impressive.  I don't know anything about
architecture but it does have pillars just like this."

     "I have not seen the Spa here, yet," said Dr Mossman.  He shook his
head.  "I have been so busy putting together my notes.  I must go and
look."

     Father Artur was smiling.  "The Spa here goes back many years.  The
healing waters are mentioned for skin diseases from the times the Romans
and the Germanic tribes overran this area.  Though our main Spa buildings
date from the mid nineteenth century, one or two pavilions survive from
around 1760 or so. There was a great building program then including the
Opera House and I expect country houses as well.  The date would fit.  But
'castle' and 'key'?  Is it this key?"  He pointed to the silver key where I
had laid the pair on the desk.

     "I have the feeling it is both," I said.  "All things point to a
guardianship." I nearly said 'of a certain box' but I saw Father Artur's
penetrating gaze which halted me.  Yes, the fewer people who knew about it
the better!  "And Leopoldus was one of the guardians."  I hoped my emphasis
on 'Leopoldus' had been caught by Tris.  Yes.  He smiled and nodded but
said nothing.

     The Professor was more intent on continuing his translation and I got
the feeling we were straying from the straight and narrow in his opinion.
He more or less jabbed his finger at the next part of the text.  "It
continues 'and to him I give the title Baron Zu Wilde...  The rest of that
name is quite unreadable but it goes on '...from my City of Rechtenberg
whose Count...', but this next part which is also the beginning of the
award of the other Order is not clear..."  He pointed at a very dark stain
across what must be several letters.  He continued, "'...of Henry the Lion'
and then the Royal Assent at the end.  That starts with the usual 'by the
Grace of God and by the Ordinance entrusted in me through...' but then the
mark is over the next words.  The signature is Rodolphus III.  Or, at least
the scribe has written the name like that.  As I said, this is only a
copy."

     Father Artur was looking with the glass again.  "Umh.  'Rechtenberg'
is very clear.  That is a large town in the Tirolen region.  There is an
important military garrison there which is near the Austrian border.  I
have not heard that title 'Count of Rechtenberg' It is interesting because
the Rector's family comes from that region, too.  I will consult him.  He
may know."

     I walked over to the map which was covered with a network of tiny
roads and what could only be tracks joining countless small communities.  I
noted the date on the map was 1910.  I traced round the area which the
Professor had pointed out was the Tirolen region.

     "It's here," I said, "'Rechtenberg'.  It's printed across other names,
most ending in 'berg'.  That means mountain, doesn't it?"

     Father Artur nodded.  "Often a village or town at the foot of a
mountain can have that ending."

     The others came over to the map.  I was pointing at 'Rechtenberg'.
Tris put his finger on Strelzen.

     "How far from here to there?" he asked.

     "I would guess two hundred and fifty kilometres," said Father Artur.

     I did a quick calculation.  "About a hundred and fifty miles."

     Tris had been writing down what the Professor had said.  "At least we
have a general idea where the place might be.  But it's a long way to go if
we wanted to visit."

     The Professor pointed at the map.  "This is old.  The main roads today
are very good.  It does not show the main railway which runs from here in
Strelzen to the junction at Luchau and then South through valleys and
tunnels to Austria and the capital Vienna.  We now have good communication
since the Communists went as before we were very cut off from Western
Europe although our railway system and border connections were well in
place by the 1870's."  He went back to the document.  "I am sorry but this
is the only one I could find."

     "We have clues," said Tris, "And we can tell Dr Stein a little more."

     The Professor held up a finger.  "I will ask permission to copy this
for him.  The King's Secretary will have to give permission as it is a
Royal document.  I think he will be very interested."

     We thanked the Professor profusely for his time and expertise.  He
said he had found it very interesting as so few people visited the Archives
though he'd had to deny two recent rather insistent enquirers who had
refused to go through the proper channels.  We thanked Father Dr Artur
Wendel for making the arrangements and he just smiled enigmatically and
said he would see the Chapter meeting finished by four so Dr Valentin would
be ready for me to practise.  Dr Mossman asked if he could buy us lunch so
we could fill him in on Michaelhouse and Dr Stein, which we graciously
accepted.

     I remembered to pick up the keys and followed Tris and Dr Mossman out
leaving Father Artur talking to the Professor.  Just as the heavy door shut
behind us my mobile trilled..  A text:

		    'George Henry Carr born ten thirty
		      Eight pounds two ounces   Three
		     Mums OK  Viewing at six at clinic
			 Ivo the Relieved Father'


To be Continued: