Date: Tue, 31 Mar 2009 13:52:46 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's  Sequel:  9

		      Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
				 A Sequel

				    by

				   Joel


Seq 9:

             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
Jack Goodman                    Frankie's bosom pal
James Bowes-Chesterton    Frankie's pal Bozo
Patrick Montgomery           Frankie's pal Moggo
Anthony Pugsley                 Shelley's ardent boyfriend [Puggo/Pugsy]
Gregory Parks                     Bozo's friend [Harpo]
Oliver Jensen                       A talented Music student

                    Summer Term 2004 Continued:

     Oliver was in the bedroom of the set packing a case.  "Thank God
that's all over.  I'm exhausted.  I'm going to stay at Zack's for the
weekend and I've told Ben and he said it's OK if I miss morning service on
Sunday."  He laughed.  "I've had music up to here this week!"  He patted
the top of his head.  "You OK?"

     I said I was glad my ordeal was over and then quickly filled him in on
what James had told me.

     "Dad's been there," he said, "He opened up the British Council offices
once they kicked the Commies out.  Must have been about 1990 because he
brought me back a bit of the Berlin Wall as well and that was 1989.  It
wasn't long before I was packed off to Prep School."  He laughed.  "Dad was
never at home for long and when he was around there were almighty rows.
Usually about Mum going off for weekends and leaving us with the au pair.
Just got used to it.  Thought it was all part of family life."

     This was the first time Oliver had said much about his early days.

     "It didn't worry you?"

     "No, most holidays I spent with Gran and Grandad here.  They had a
house in Grantchester near the river and then bought the place in Dorset
which wasn't far from the school so Eddie and I spent holidays there as
well.  Mum went off finally when I was about twelve but I knew that Uncle
Kevin was in the background long before that.  He was an airline pilot and
Mum had met him on a return flight from visiting Dad somewhere out East."

     "You've never said much about all this before," I said.

     "Not really interested except I had a letter from Mum earlier in the
week.  They've decided my eldest half-brother would benefit from an English
education so they're all coming over late summer to install him at my old
Prep School.  Poor little bugger, he's nearly eight now!  I've never met
him and I'm not sure I want to.  Dad'll go spare when I tell him.  The
divorce cost him a packet and Grandad paid most of our fees for school.
Mum's parents died just after the divorce and left her a load of money and
that pissed Dad off even more.  I hardly knew them as they lived in the
South of France and all I ever got was a card and a cheque at Christmas."

     He was rooting around in the cupboard.  "Sean took all my stuff for
the laundry this morning.  Could I borrow a couple of pairs of socks?"

     I said borrow anything and noticed he filched the red silk boxers as
well as one of Unc's tops.  Nice bit of gossip about his family, but I had
other things to ask.

     "Did your Dad ever say what he thought of Rothenia?"

     He laughed.  "Very drab but the beer was cheap.  Of course he was
there when they were just getting a bit of freedom and there were all sorts
of factions vying for supremacy.  I remember him saying he found it a very
strange sort of place but he never had any trouble setting up the office as
lots wanted to learn English or read English books.  Dickens and James Bond
mostly, he said.  He also said there was some sort of English heritage
there as well.  I suppose Rudi is the end product of that but I don't know
anything more."

     Rudi?  Yes.  I wondered if I would meet him again?

     "This Jerzy, why don't you ask him?  You said you might be going to
the Club tonight.  He'll probably be there so buy him a drink."

     Trouble was that Jerzy resembled my Tris.  Still a drink and a chat
wouldn't mean coming to any harm.  He had a pal with him last time.  Was he
Rothenian as well?  Someone to go with?  Barry?  Ring Barry and see if he
wanted a night out.  From what James had said Barry and Jerzy got on well.
As soon as Oliver had finished packing and was off to catch the bus I
phoned Barry on his mobile.  Yep, he was at a loose end that evening.  Yep,
a, query, quiet night at the Club would be great.  See you there at ten.

     I had hardly switched off the mobile and decided I wanted a cup of
coffee and was in the kitchen when there was a rap on the door.  It was
Logan carrying a plastic bag full of clothing.  He held it up.

     "I was in the laundry room and Sean was doing a pile of washing and he
asked me to bring Oliver's things across."

     "Sorry you've had a wasted journey, but Oliver's gone off for the
weekend with socks and pants of mine."  He made a wry face.  I took the bag
from him.  "Fancy a cup of coffee?"

     Like all students, a cup of coffee and a chat were always welcome,
especially if accompanied by a slice of the delectable cake brought in by
Charles on Tuesday evening to help assuage the qualms examination
candidates routinely experienced.  A kind thought and he wouldn't stay as,
no doubt, there were loose ends to tie before the next day's ordeal...

     Logan had finished his First Year exams and was quietly confident.  He
and Anthony Duncan had worked together and had kept each other from
freaking out, he said.  I then asked if he was going to the Club that
evening.  He nodded.

     "The money's useful and my Curt'll be there, too," he said and smiled.

     I'd had a short chat with Logan after Easter about the contents of the
message on the card and had the consummation of their friendship confirmed,
in delicate terms.  A couple of days later Curt had appeared on the
doorstep with the usual grin, plus a parcel from Charles, and the rather
more explicit news that Logan was a real Scottish wildcat in bed.  "Never
knew he had it in him!"  With much giggling he said he meant that one
particular way.  If Frankie's assessment of the python he'd spied was
correct then I expect Logan knew when that was in him, too.  But to other
things.

     "Will that Jerzy be there tonight, do you think?" I asked.

     "I guess so," Logan said, "He's always there.  He and his pal.  You
know he comes from that place that King comes from."

     I nodded.  Curt had been so over the moon with that visit I knew my
standing with him was sky high.  Logan, I knew, had been briefed with every
moment and there was one champagne flute missing which Curt had confessed
he'd taken because the King had drunk from it.  Perhaps Curt should pay
naked penance for thievery?  Penance and penis?  Mark! stop it!  Then came
a bit of a revelation.  I had to pay attention.

     "I don't think Curt's told you but his grandfather came from that
place, too."

     "No, he hasn't.  When was that?"

     "Before the War I think.  Get him to tell you."

     I thought quickly.  "What about a drink before going to the Club
tonight.  No champers, sorry, but I can rustle something up."

     I knew Logan was no tight-arsed Presbyterian and was partial to a nice
fruity wine or a stiff G & T.  Curt?  Fruity!  He liked a stiff one, too, I
thought.  Oh! Why oh why was I obsessed with that lovely little bundle of
flesh?  Who couldn't be!  I shifted in my seat.  Stiff one?  To be sure!
Must be post-examination randiness.  Definitely!  I was missing Tris.

     "Lovely!" said Logan, "He's serving in Hall tonight but there are a
couple of new kids as well just started so he'll be finished by half eight.
Then?"

     I managed to control my lust for the moment and phoned Tris to tell
him about the news from James.  His advice was to see what the Master said.
I also told him what Logan had said about Curt's ancestry.  Find out as
much as possible was more advice but do it with Logan present.  I asked 'Do
what?'.  He said I was a randy bugger but he loved me, however, he had to
get on with work.  Saying I was randy just inflamed my sensuousness even
more.  I controlled that with a supreme act of will and went off to Hall
for something to eat.  There were plenty in Hall tonight, the general idea
being as exams were over to hit the town later after loading up with plenty
of ballast to soak up the drink.  Somewhat loaded I went back to the set
and changed.  It wasn't too chilly so I chose a less wintery weight of
clothing.  Peering at myself in the mirror I blew myself a kiss.  'Adorable
hunk', I thought, then was sad as Tris was at home, head in a Law book, or
whatever.

     Just on half eight the pair were at the door.  Curt bounced in in a
real fit of the giggles.

     "Will you no calm down, you wee pest!"  Logan was berating him.  "You
waste guid food and you gave that puir kid a shock!  And if Manuel tells
Cheffie you'll be on the chip fryer for a week and you'll stink even more!"

     Curt was carrying a towel and a bag.  The giggles stopped.  "Tell you
what happened first, and then, could I have a shower, please?  I didn't
have time because Lolly was in such a hurry to get here."

     "Dinna keep calling me Lolly, ma name's Logan ya wee divil!  What
happens if any a mae friends hear it!"  Logan's accent became more
pronounced as always when he was roused.

     "Aren't I a friend?"  I asked innocently.  Stir it up!  "And why
Lolly?"  I could guess but confirmation would be a bonus.

     Curt's nose wrinkled.  "Do I have to tell you?" The giggle came again.
"It's..."  He didn't finish but screwed his nose up and opened his mouth in
a small O.

     "Ya wee mutt!  Will you nae shut it?" said Logan despairingly.  "I
canna control him!"  This last to me.

     "I shouldn't worry," I said, "It sounds as if you have the perfect
relationship."

     Logan smiled and nodded.

     "So what happened?" I asked.

     Curt grinned.  "Got a couple of new kids just joined, one of them is
big Stevie's nephew, and the other one's his friend.  They left school this
week, just finished their GCSEs.  Seventeen and green as grass."  'Like you
bloody were, nae dout,' sotto voce from Logan.  "Still, they're not bad.
They work well but I couldn't resist it.  The other one was bent over
getting a tray out of the hot plate in the kitchen just now so I pulled his
whites open and dropped a nice plump sausage down his crack and patted his
bum.  He squawked and nearly dropped the tray.  I said he could have a hot
sausage any time and he was quite rude and Manuel heard him and I got the
blame."  Curt's face became a mask of innocence.  "Boys these days use the
most foul language.  I didn't know my parents weren't married and that I
preferred intercourse with the mentally defective!"

     "Ya wee fool, he said you were a bastard and a fucking idiot, not you
liked fucking idiots!"  Logan was laughing heartily now.  First time I'd
heard Logan use language like that!

     "And Logan's not mentally defective?"  I asked, doubly innocently.

     "Too right!" said Curt emphatically.

     I pointed to the bathroom.  "Go!  There's plenty of Tris's upmarket
stinky-stuff in there.  It'll be much better than the smell of chip fat!
And there'll be a large G & T when you're done!"

     He did blow me a kiss as he hurried off, discarding clothing as he
went.  Logan followed him and picked up shoes, socks and other bits as I
poured three quite stiff gins and added tonic, ice and lemon from the
fridge and little freezer.  Ah, bliss!  I found a box of picky bits and
took everything through to the living room.

     Logan was inspecting the framed photo of all the lads from last year's
summer holiday, all arrayed in Unc's finest.

     "They're a bonny lot," he averred as he accepted his G & T.  "That
brother of yours'll be here next year and I saw some of the others last
term."

     I said Frankie would be and pointed out Steady Eddie, Oliver's
brother, who would be housed in the set above.  Not sharing with Frankie as
once thought, but with a pal from school who was also going to read
Medicine, in between rowing, drinking and fucking all the girls available,
as Oliver told me the lad had said after his interview.  I told him about
Bozo and Harpo and the missing Pugsy who would be here reading Engineering
like Logan.  He said he would keep an eye out for him.  I didn't say he was
a questing soul but just that he was Tris's sister's boyfriend.  I
contemplated a mental picture of Pugsy in a writhing combination with Curt
and Logan.  Not really possible to imagine in full detail as I had only
witnessed Pugsy in the nude...  My thoughts were interrupted by the fairly
tuneless rendition of 'The Good Ship Lollipop' from the direction of the
shower.  We looked at each other.

     "Go and turn the hot tap on fully in the kitchen that'll shut him up."

     Logan grinned and rushed off.  It didn't shut the warbler up.  There
was a piercing scream as the cold water hit him.  A nude dripping figure
materialised in the doorway.

     "What the fucking hell!  It's fucking freezing!!  I'll fucking get
you!"  This to a laughing Logan who smacked the yelling figure's bum.
Young lads these days use foul language I said to myself.

     "That's three fuckings you're going to get, Logan," I said without
thinking.  What I was also thinking was that Frankie had been right.  The
cold water couldn't have diminished the supple length of that snaky cock
which swung engagingly as the owner danced from foot to foot.  And if it
had?  Wow!  I thought of the descriptions I'd read on certain sites;
'showers' and 'growers'.  If that was a show, superb!  If that grew,
magnificent!!

     "Get your wee self in there and finish!  The water's OK now," said
Logan giving the bum another wee skelping as it retreated.

     OK, I could now imagine a nude Pugsy with a nude Curt.  Two down and
one to go!  But fantasising is one thing, reality is another.  We sat and
sipped in silence grinning at each other over the wee thing's discomfiture.
Wee thing.  Nae sae wee as the Caledonians say!

     I turned and called out.  "Have a look under my bed.  See if there's
one of Unc's tops you like, or anything else."  I looked at Logan.  "You'd
better go and get something you like.  There's not much left as my brother
and his pals had first go."

     I heard a chuntering from the bedroom as the pair rooted around.
Finally, "You cannae go out there like that!"  I was rewarded by the sight
of an angelic blond lad at the doorway in one of Unc's deep blue tops
tucked up round his midriff and the red silk thong and nothing else.

     "How do you like that?" the golden angel asked as the vision before me
pirouetted seductively.  I would have liked it.  I would have caressed and
cuddled and stripped and...

     I smiled.  "You look gorgeous enough to eat."  Oh, my choice of
phrases tonight were rather suggestive but...

     "And for afters?"  He turned and pointed as Logan who stood head and
shoulders above him in a pale blue top and dark slacks which set his
chiselled features off to perfection as he smiled.

     I couldn't help it.  I shook my head.  "You pair are a gay boy's wet
dreams..."  I whispered.

     Curt came over and kissed me as I sat there just about transfixed.
"Sorry Tris isn't here." He smiled.  "No more.  I'll get dressed and I
won't tease.  It's not fair."  He turned and went to the bathroom.

     I was almost in tears.  I needed my Tris.  Logan saw I was a bit
distressed.  He came and sat beside me.

     "I feel like that now when Curt isn't around.  I told my Mum I had
Curt when I was home at Easter.  She understands but I haven't told Dad or
my elder brother yet, though I think they've guessed.  Mum said she could
see I loved him and told me to be happy.  I am when he's with me and I feel
a bit sad when he isn't."

     Curt joined us then.  I pointed at the glass.  "I guess your ice has
melted."  I grinned at him.  The sight of him made me feel better. "The
temperature certainly went up in here when you appeared...  Twice!"

     "Sorry for being a tease.  Can't help it.  Shawn says I'm the best
thing the Club's ever had and he'd have me on show every night until I was
wrinkled and old.  He gave me a real slap when I asked 'Like you?'."

     He picked up the glass and had quite a slurp.  "Nice and strong.  Just
like some people I know!"  He did a moue.  "Sorry.  I'll shut up."

     "Don't shut up," I said.  I went through what James Tanner had told me
and that I'd been invited for lunch with the Master and that Logan had told
me about the Rothenian grandfather.

     He listened carefully.  "I'll be there Sunday.  I'm serving the lunch.
The Master asked for me.  He knows Dad.  They were undergraduates here
together."

     I didn't know that, but certain things began to fall into place.  I
got up and replenished three glasses.  When settled again I asked if his
Dad had been to Rothenia.  He shook his head.

     "I didn't even know the family history until recently.  I thought we
had a German background because of the name.  I told Dad and Mum about
meeting the King and he looked quite startled.  Then it all came out.  It's
a bit of a long story but I wanted to know more about the place.  He said
his father had been born there and his grandfather had been quite an
important landowner.  They had lost a lot because of the troubles after the
First World War.  Great-grandad had been a real Rothenian but after the
German king was there he wasn't in great favour so Dad said.  I'd never
seen them before but he got out an album of photos which his father had
brought to England.  There were some of a family in front of a big house
and then one or two of individuals and couples.  Those were all mounted and
then there were some loose ones which were more like snaps.  Dad said that
was about all his father managed to bring to England when he escaped."

     "Escaped?" I asked.

     Curt nodded.  "Dad said Grandad was a historian.  He'd done his thesis
on the recent history of the country from just before the First World War
and had analysed the Weimar treaty or something like that, and then had
written about the rise of National Socialism in Germany and Austria and
other places and how it affected Rothenia and the fascist intrigues there.
I knew a bit about that as we did Nazism at school in History but Rothenia
wasn't mentioned.  Apparently he got his degree and the thesis was
published.  Then the local fascists burnt all the copies as they didn't
like what he'd written about Germany, Rothenia, or them.  Dad said it must
have been like the book burning the Nazis did in Berlin.  Grandad was on
their hit-list after that and only got away because a friend in the fascist
movement warned him.  He managed to get to Switzerland and friends there
got him to England."

     "When was this?" I asked.

     "Dad said he thought he must have arrived in England at the beginning
of 1939.  He showed me the copy of the book Granddad wrote which had the
date November 1938.  He said it's about the only copy left.  I couldn't
read it very well as it was in German and I've only got GCSE in that.  It
had to be published in that language because that was the usual custom to
get stuff read.  He also told me our proper name."  He smiled.
"Great-grandad was Baron Gustav zu Wildenstejn, Stein with a 'j'.  When
Grandad got here he dropped the Wilden bit and thought he might change
Stejn to Stone but kept it as Stein with an 'i'.  Anyway he was interned at
the beginning of the War but later joined the SOE as a German interpreter.
He married another interpreter after the end of the War and Dad wasn't born
until 1950 and never knew his history until his father was very ill just
before he died.  He also said Grandad had said he'd given something to a
college but he was too ill to remember what it was or say where.  I asked
Uncle Robert but he's a couple of years younger than Dad and didn't know
anything else."

     My thoughts were racing.  'Wilde' Could it be a connection?  I
couldn't say anything.  I must contact Adam or the Colonel in the morning.

     Logan was laughing.  "The wee tyke's way too posh for me.  Baron?
I'll have to lick his boots I see."

     "Ooh!  Didn't know you had a real fetish.  I know you like licking."
Curt was away again.

     "Whsst!  You twist ma words all the time.  I'll twist your wee neck
for ye, you bampot!"

     "Hold it, you two!  My Uncle's partner's a Count.  And that's only one
of his titles.  My brother wants to know if he'll get one if they do a
civil partnership once that's legal.  Tris says in his dreams!"

     "But I could be in line," said Curt.  "Great-grandad was the only son
and so was Grandad and Dad's the eldest, then there's me.  Baron Stewpot,
not bampot, you hairy Highlander!  Get that under your kilt!"  He waved an
almost empty glass at a kowtowing Logan.  "And don't forget I'm nineteen
next week and I'll allow you to lick me..."  He looked over the bowed head
at me and winked.  "...all over!"  Toads are everywhere!  "He's got a
lovely long wet tongue, too!"  His nose and mouth screwed up in a look of
anticipation.

     Oh, hell!  If such images persisted I would be having a spontaneous
emission.  I think Logan was similarly afflicted as he straightened up
rather slowly.

     "He can't help it," Logan said resignedly.  "I was in front of one of
those big boaties in the grub queue last week and he was moaning about his
aching muscles and this thing said he was good at massaging as he helped
knead the bread and he wouldn't mind having a go at bigger buns.  Great
gawk didn't know what he meant until one of his pals laughed and told him
to go for it and he'd have second helpings himself.  Pillock here said he
hoped he was big enough as he was used to pulling the dough for pound
loaves and left the little finger rolls for Stevie.  That nearly caused a
riot until big Stevie came out from the kitchen.  You know big Stevie.
He's as butch as they come and built like the proverbial and everyone was
laughing by then.  How he gets away with it I don't know?"

     "I just give them an extra helping, and if it's sausages I give one a
squeeze and wink at them and put four on their plate.  They soon move
along."  Curt was back to giggles.  "Daren't tell you what I say if they
choose fruit for pud, especially if they like bananas.  If they hesitate a
bit I start to peel it for them.  'One skin', I say, 'two skin' and they're
off like a shot.  Some of those big boys are a bit shy."

     "You'll goad one of them too much sometime and you'll end up in your
pot of stew, you wee daftie!"

     "Ooh, you could suck all that lovely meat off me...." He stopped and
looked at me.  "I can't help it.  Only way I didn't get battered at school
was to make jokes.  They guessed I was gay pretty early and some of the
Scots are a bit phobic and half of them have no sense of humour.  The ones
who got my jokes stopped me getting thumped by those who didn't.  I told
the Captain of Rugby once that the proof of the pudding was in the pulling
and he said he 'didnae ken ma meaning'."  That last in a wonderful
imitation of a true Scottish voice.  "The Vice-Captain knew, laughed, and
was my best friend until I left."  He looked coy.  "I pulled his pudding
more than once.  He said I was great at massaging his ego!  Wow!  It was
some ego!!  It's OK, Logan knows."

     "Och, if what he's told me is true he had half the First Fifteen
begging for attention."  He laughed.  "I'd left by then or I'd a been on ma
knees, too, I guess."  He looked at his loved one and smiled.

     "Two gins and all the family secrets are spilled," I said.  I held up
two hands in defence.  "Nothing much to tell.  A couple of other excursions
but I knew Tris was mine and I was his when I was fourteen.  Simple as
that."

     "I wish I'd had courage when I was that age," said Logan, "But it's
worked for me now."

     Curt looked at his watch.  "Thanks for everything, Mark, we'd better
go or Shawn won't be pleased.  Come on, Lolly, stir those stumps and make
sure your hairy knees are clean as you'll be wearing the kilt."

     "Curt, Logan," I emphasized the second name, "Thanks for your company.
I'll follow on soon."

     Both stood, bent down and I got a kiss on my cheeks from each.

     I followed on and got to the Club just before ten.  Two doormen
tonight, Craig and Delon.  End of exams I was told and youthful exuberance
and drink might spell trouble later.  As it was, the place was quite
crowded.  The leather lot were gradually expanding.  A group of ten now,
with Brad sitting chatting to Big Whacker Jeffs.  All looking quite
menacing but as friendly as could be.  I had a word with Raph who was
bartending as usual then spotted Barry as he came in.  He went and spoke to
his Uncle Brad who pointed to me by the bar.  Godders also wanted a word.
"You know I have a gent's outfitters?  Would your Uncle be interested in an
outlet here?"  Perfect.  I knew the shop well.  Very high class with plans
to move to the new shopping arcade in St Andrews Street when it was built.
I nodded.  He handed me a card.  'Godfrey Sampson Tailor and Outfitter'

     "I'll see he gets it," I said.  A bit of a boast now.  "My friend Tris
is likely to handle the legal side once he's qualified."

     "Lovely lad.  You're lucky.  Looks as if it'll last.  Like me and
Martin.  Forty years next year."  His companion smiled and nodded.  I'd
never heard him speak and he'd never been in the main shop whenever I'd
been in.

     Brad had said some time ago Martin did all the office work and was
also a high-up Mason.  "He'll roll up his trouser-leg if you get him on the
quiet," Brad said with a wink.  "Don't tell Batman that, though.  His Dad's
Grand Wazzer of the ninety-seventh degree in some posh London Lodge."

     I ordered a G and T for me and a non-alky something for Barry.  Once
we were sat sipping I told him a bit about what James had said and asked
him about Jerzy.

     "Yeah, I knew that had cropped up.  Jacob said you should be asked
quickly as James thought you might be off to Italy straight away.  Anyway,
I had lots of chats with Jerzy.  He's a really nice bloke and is over here
on a scholarship.  He's got a pal here, too."  He laughed.  "They're both
gay and I got the impression there's a lot of it about over there.  I
looked it up on the Internet and there's a big international gay scene
there.  Fancy it?"

     "I don't know," I said, "The only gay scene I know is here.  Not very
adventurous, am I."

     "You could try London or Brighton.  I got an introduction to it when I
was off the rails."  He winked.  "Best way for a good-looking lad to earn a
bit of cash.  But I got hooked on other things and did a runner."  He
laughed.  "Straight as a die now!  Anyway, I've got another three- month
placing at Ulvescott from September and if they like me I can stay.
They're an interesting bunch there and the place is weird.  No, not weird,
just strangely peaceful."

     Another one struck by that overall ambience.  We chatted on about the
place and I said how I was related and he nodded.  I knew he'd heard it
before but he asked quite a few questions about the people there and I
didn't really know all the answers.  But, I knew if he worked there he
wouldn't be off the rails again, ever.

     I saw Jerzy come in, alone, and Barry waved to him.  I signalled to
Raph for a drink to be brought over and he joined us.  His friend had
pulled a muscle running and was resting so Jerzy was glad of company.  I
told him about James Tanner's suggestion and he was very forthcoming about
it all.  Far from being annoyed about being thrown out by his foul landlord
he was pleased.  He had loved being with the household and had even shown
Barry how to cook a couple of Rothenian dishes.  Large amounts of lamb
included, I gathered.  His father was so happy he'd been looked after,
sorted out and now had a more amenable landlord, so he'd wanted to
recompense James and the others in some way.  As they wouldn't accept any
payment themselves the student exchange was a good idea.  The country was
still getting over the depredations of the many years under Communist rule
and even Jerzy's father had had to be careful as the family name had an
aristocratic ring.

     "Not really aristocrats anymore," Jerzy said, smiling, "Great-grandad
had been an officer in the Rothenian Army but lost a lot of his money in
the collapse of the world economy after the First World War.  Although we
had been a neutral country during that conflict there was a real downturn
and many, like him, had to struggle in the twenties and thirties.  We've
still got a country house but only half is liveable in and Grandad lives
there alone and he's almost ninety.  There's a small farm an uncle runs,
but my father only has his university salary and we have to entertain a
lot."

     I said my friend Oliver's father opened up the British Council offices
when the Communist government collapsed.

     Jerzy nodded.  "I'm here on a British Council scholarship.  I'm very
grateful.  I had extra classes in English there, too.  That's why I studied
English at the Rodolfer."

     I wondered if I might mention Curt's connection but I thought he'd
better do that.  Lo and behold, up bounces Curt, wearing Unc's top and
Unc's shorts and a beaming smile.  "Drinks, gentlemen?  There's a crowd
coming in soon so order up now!  Logan will be over."  He turned to Jerzy.
"Ahoi, dobra denn!"

     "Prosim, men freund, dobra denn!"  Jerzy said this, then looked at
Curt in amazement.  He said something else but Curt shook his head.

     "Sorry, I don't understand.  That's all my Dad taught me.  I said you
came to the Club and he said that was how to say 'Hello' in Rothenian."

     "Your father speaks Rothenian?"  Jerzy asked.

     "A bit...."

     A figure loomed into sight cutting off anymore discussion.  It was
Shawn waving a bar towel.  The 'tyke' grinned and rushed off to announce a
crowd was imminent to the next group.  A less bouncy Logan came over and
Barry ordered the drinks this time.  "Flush," he said, "Dad's just got
another contract."

     Billy Hall had been a star on British television and films for years.
He'd bagged a part in yet another Harry Potter film I gathered.  Nothing
major but it 'paid the rent' as Barry said.  I then heard that Jerzy had
done a bit of modelling as an undergraduate student in Strelzen also to
'pay the rent'.  He said lots of boys at the university did modelling as
student grants were low and there were plenty of lads with nicely-toned
bods.  I said Tris had commented about the crowds of Eastern Europeans
appearing on various Yahoo sites, but it seemed to him that anyone with
something that dangled got a showing.  I didn't confess I'd watched with
him several times and some of the lads were, to put it mildly, deliciously
well-hung.  Looking at Jerzy I wondered how far his modelling went.

     I hoped I hadn't belittled Eastern Europe's crop of late teens too
much as Jerzy then said very decisively, "We have a big model and film
studio in Strelzen and they are very fussy who they audition.  Some boys
are just not good enough I would agree, but I think Rothenian boys are the
best in Eastern Europe at least!"

     Way ho!  That was a bit of patriotism!  Not the usual, 'we produce the
best bananas', or 'the most wheat', or 'the finest wine', but, 'we have the
finest crop of hunky, well-hung youths'!  Bring on the hunky youths!  As
well as the wine!  I made some comment along those lines to both Jerzy's
and Barry's amusement.  Any qualms of mine disappeared.

     Jerzy laughed.  "Our studio only takes the best!"

     "Too true," said Barry. "Get Jerzy to ask you up to see his etchings!"

     Jerzy laughed again and held up his hands in defence.  "Only, as you
say, very decorous, I think."

     "Nice abs," said Barry winking at me.  Yes.  I had seen a bare-chested
Jerzy dancing.  Yes.  Very nice abs!

     Neither of them wanted to dance.  It was getting very crowded now and
I noticed that there was a leathermen patrol every now and then.  Some had
gone to a lot of trouble buffing up their shiny rings and loops as well
their leather chaps or boots so there was a general standing back and
glasses raised as they paraded.  All very decorous like Jerzy's pictures.
Well, I supposed so.

     A couple more drinks and I was feeling more than a little euphoric to
put it mildly.  I also had a headache.  I suppose due to tension over the
past few days.  I switched to water.  Luckily, I had some paracetamol in my
pocket.  I took two with a good swig of water.  Within moments Brad had
come striding across from his corner.

     "What are you taking, Mark?" he asked with a note of authority but
real concern.  Both Barry and Jerzy sat up looking startled.

     I realised my action.  Popping pills with a load of water.  I felt
really foolish.  I shook my head.  "Paracetamol.  I've got a headache."

     "Are you sure?  Got any more?"

     I realised if I was carrying anything like E or acid I would have been
in dead trouble.  Luckily the foil with the other two in a strip said
'Paracetamol 500mg' and there were the blank spaces.

     He grinned.  "Sorry, but I had to check.  You nearly gave me a heart
attack!  Sorry Barry if I gave you a fright, too.  But..."

     The unsaid was left hanging.  I apologised to Barry as soon as Brad
went back to his seat.  He just said he knew what I was taking and hadn't
thought to warn me it might be misunderstood.  He smiled and said he was
glad his Uncle Brad was looking after him and his friends.

     Jerzy told us that drugs were getting quite a concern in his country.
There were periodic crackdowns but another uncle, who was high up in the
police, thought there was at least one particular organised ring.
Something to do with Albanians or Ukrainians and organised by some rather
shadowy figures.  He thought there had been an influx of criminal elements
from other ex- Communist states as well as there was plenty of money to be
made in drugs and prostitution.  He got the feeling they knew there were
some important characters who might be involved but it was a matter of
evidence.  He said he might go into their police force as a graduate entry
and having English as his third language would be very useful for dealing
with the continuing increase in the influx of tourists.  Third language?
Yes, he had to be fluent in both Rothenian and German because of the
divided nature of the country over the years.  Barry and he then left me
staring as they began conversing rapidly in German.  They apologised when
they saw my look of incomprehension.

     Jerzy laughed.  "His German is good, but rather unconventional.  I
like your English word 'earthy'.  Very earthy.  Not for his mother's ears!"

     "Too true!" said Barry.  "I did mix with a rather uncommon crowd.  Had
to keep eyes and ears open and mouth shut.  Spent over a year shuttling
from place to place in Germany.  Had to keep moving as by that time I had
lost my passport.  Got one made up and hopped off from there on my journey
to oblivion in India."

     "You ought to write your memoirs," I said.

     He grinned.  "I don't think I could remember enough."  He waved his
bottle.  "Very hazy at times and that's an understatement.  I can just
about remember getting onto a plane somewhere like Istanbul and ending up
in Delhi after a couple of stopovers.  I had a shaved head and was wearing
orange robes.  I think they thought my spaced-out look meant I was very
holy!  How I got that look is just a dream and it's something best left in
my unconscious mind!"

     By this time it was after midnight and the noise from the disco was
getting louder, or else the paracetamol wasn't working yet.  There seemed
to be a record crowd in.  I spied Curt scurrying about, but he was dealing
mainly with the other side of the room.  The floor was heaving. The dancers
were gyrating, smooching, or otherwise having a good time.  Hot and
glistening torsos were much in evidence and I was certain quite a lot of
the participants weren't gay, even if holding on or brushing up chest to
chest.  I said this to the pair.  Barry just said "Look at me.  I just
loved the music and the bustle and whatever was on the menu!  Then, if the
price was right, or the offer was substantial..."  Jerzy said there were
two big Clubs in Strelzen which were predominantly for a gay clientele but
there were plenty of straight lads who frequented them just for the music
and the dancing, but his gay friends all had tales of conquests.

     "No cost, usually," he said laughing.  "A few beers maybe.  If I'm
home when you come across we'll visit!  Tristan must come, too!  What about
you, Barry?"

     He shook his head.  "Banned from travel abroad."  He grinned at Jerzy.
"Sounds marvellous, but no passport and no real desire.  Too much past
baggage to carry."

     "I understand.  You have told me," said Jerzy, "You are very wise."

     "Wiser now.  Not wise then," said Barry.

     I said that Jerzy must have an invitation to Ulvescott next term if it
could be arranged.  Barry said he was being accommodated in a cottage on
the edge of the estate with a couple who managed the cleaning and there
were spare rooms there.  Gay and straight and a real friendship.

     We decided to call it a night.  I went over to the leathermen's corner
to say cheerio.  Brad was also getting ready to go as well.  He offered to
drive the pair of us, to Chesterton Road for Jerzy, and the Backs for me,
and Barry was off on his motorbike.

     As we got into the car Brad turned to me.  "Jerzy knows about the man
of mystery.  We had to tell him just in case he was contacted by anyone
with criminal intent.  Before you go over get him to put you in the picture
about the factions.  It might be useful."

     I was startled for about the third time that evening.  Barry and
German.  Brad's rush to see if I was taking.  Now his knowledge that I was
probably going to Rothenia.  The police raid, yes.  As DCI he was probably
briefed.

     "I've always said with you, news travels fast.  How did you know about
me and Rothenia?  I suppose you knew about Jerzy through the job."

     He started the engine.  "And what you didn't know about was the quiet
outside presence while you entertained royalty and I was inside with the
other two Satyrs!"  He laughed as he manoeuvred out from the side street.
"And I've known about Colonel Cameron-Thomson for years.  My old boss at
the Yard worked for him yonks ago.  Very well regarded I might add."  He
drove along sedately and gave a discreet thumbs-up to a figure standing by
a post-box.  "One of the lads on oppo," he explained.  "Anyway, Dr Mays
phoned me first to check on safety about Rudi's visit and then, yesterday,
about this possibility.  You've rather a reputation for various things,
including not falling off a tower."

     Jerzy had been silent in the back of the car.  "Don't worry, my father
will be in charge of everything.  If you decide to go I can give you lots
of information.  Just phone me.  My mobile number is here.  I am going to
London tomorrow and Sunday but I will be back on Monday."  He passed over a
visiting card.  "I hope you will accept the invitation.  You will like my
country."

     I thanked him.  If all Rothenians were as nice as Jerzy I would enjoy
it.

     I slept like a log that night.  Slightly pissed.  Headachy. Glad the
exams were over.  Interesting things ahead.  Missing Tris...

     ...I awoke early, headache gone, but with a raging hard-on.  Nothing
for it.  A thought.  A smile.  Satisfaction.  I fell asleep again and awoke
refreshed.  I had plenty to do.  I wondered where I would be accommodated
next year if I stayed.  Not likely to be in College.  Part III's and
Post-grads were generally in digs or roomed in some old houses in a side
street near Jesus Green.  There was one Theology BPhil student who lived
out and maintained he always knelt by his bed to say his prayers with
bicycle clips on in case the mice in the wainscot might come out and run up
his pyjama trouser legs.  Like it or lump it, at least I would still be in
Cambridge and Tris would be here working.  Perhaps we might be able to
afford a flat.  Hard to come by I'd heard and quite expensive.

     I decided not to go to Hall for breakfast and busied myself in the
kitchen while thinking what I had to do.  Start packing up books and
clothes and any other paraphernalia.  Toad would get his Man United duvet
cover back, washed and clean, and he could have the rather more tastefully
patterned spare ones.  He was not getting the two pillow-slips embroidered
'His' and 'His' which Adam and Ivo had presented Tris and me with on our
first joint Christmas in the set.  In fact, my accumulated possessions in
the set were few and far between, Maths text-books, folders of notes, a few
more detective novels, wine glasses, crockery (to be left for Frankie)...
My harpsichord I would leave in his care.  I knew he coveted it and loved
to play when I tuned it for him.  He would have to do that for himself.
Yes, I would leave my little electronic tuning checker as well for him.  He
would love the place as I had done.  I considered myself so lucky in having
such luxury.  Three years of interesting happenings.  Joys and tragedies.
Mayhem and mysteries.  Friends I had made.  Good friends.  I would miss
them all.

     After breakfast I sat and played some Couperin on the harpsichord.
Slightly out of tune but it added an edge to some of the harmonies.  At
half past nine I phoned Tris.  He was either quietly distraught or quietly
confident.  He said he had been dreaming about an interminable lawsuit and
had no idea what it was all about but he felt he'd solved whatever it was.
I said I was about to phone the Colonel.  Love you lots, were his parting
words.


To be Continued: