Date: Tue, 6 Jun 2006 06:18:35 +0100 (BST)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in Finkle Road - 23

  All the Michael Arram stories are gathered together now on
www.iomfats.org, if you would like to investigate further the characters
featured here.
  The story contains graphic depictions of sex between young males.  If the
reading or possessing of such material as this is illegal in your place of
residence, please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further.
If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so.


XXIII

Fritz was very excited to be going back to Terlenehem.  It had been several
years since he had last seen his childhood home.  It had to be said that
Oskar was almost as excited.  They were sitting in the front of Oskar's
BMW, two sensationally beautiful young men perfectly unconscious of their
beauty.  They chatted like little kids, pointing out their important places
to Henry and Gavin.  Gavin was catching Henry's eyes and smiling.
  `... and that was where Oskar taught me to swim, in the deep part of the
stream there.  He was sixteen, and it was just before Mother and Father
died,' Fritz was explaining to them.
  `We'd better go and see them, Fritzku,' his brother said.  `I've got
flowers in the back.'
  `Great.  We can tell them what we've been up to ... at least the clean
stuff!'  Fritz laughed.
  Henry reflected that these were two very different brothers from Eddie
and Peter Peacher, although he did not doubt the Peachers loved each other
in their own strange way.
  The car turned into the small town and drove along a picturesque main
street, colourful with window boxes full of red geraniums.  A big church
dominated the end of the street.  Taking the cross street in front of the
church, they followed a lane which led to the railway station.  Well before
reaching the station, however, they pulled up outside a neat wooden cottage
with a garden full of tall sunflowers.  Both the Tarlenheims sat silently,
wrapped up in their memories.  Henry and Gavin held hands.
  `That was the last refuge of the House of Tarlenheim during all my life
until I went to do military service,' sighed Oskar.  `Father rented it from
a local collective in the Communist days, the bad days.  He was a clerk in
the mairie -- he, the prince of Tarlenheim.'
  `But everyone loved him, Osku.  The funeral was enormous, great crowds of
people.'
  Oskar sighed again.  `And I could not be one of them.  The army kept me
in barracks ... oh the bastards, the bastards.'  He was gripping the driving
wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
  Fritz reached over to hug his brother.  `But you beat them, Osku, and you
more than completed what Father started.  You were as good as a father to
me, too.  I love you so much, my brother.'  Tears were running down the
cheeks of both young men, and, it has to be said, the cheeks of their
English guests.
  Oskar kissed Fritz, and gave a little smile.  `Yes, the Tarlenheims are
once again what they were, and an Elphberg king reigns in Strelzen.  What
is left to ask for?'
  `A princess of Tarlenheim?'  Fritz's impish humour effortlessly
resurfaced.
  Oskar laughed.  `I will happily wait for a few years to see that,
Fritzku.'
  Henry thought perhaps a potential princess had already been selected, but
kept his idea to himself.
  They all got out of the car and went down the lane some yards, so Fritz
could show Henry and Gavin his climbing tree and the high platform Oskar
had made for him in it.  Meanwhile, Oskar went to call on the present
tenants of the cottage.  When the three boys came back, they found him
happily chatting with the young couple, whose small child was hanging on to
the mother's skirt.
  The appearance of Fritz caused a certain shyness.  The woman gave a
bobbing curtsey to the prince, the man a brief bow from the waist.  They
were Fritz's tenants, as the cottage lay within the Tarlenheim estate.  He
took their hands and said a few formal words in Rothenian, which seemed to
gratify them immensely.
  On the drive back towards the small town, Oskar dropped his companions
off at a gate so they could take the river path to the remains of the old
château.  Fritz, knowing Henry's insatiable interest in antiquities, led
the way to the terrace and broken walls, all that was left of the house the
Red Army had reduced to rubble in 1948.  The gardens too had been levelled
and turned into pasture.  But they climbed up the hill behind the ruined
house where the earthworks of the old castle could still be seen, and
jagged fragments of ancient masonry pierced the grass.  Henry took a little
sketch of what he could work out about the pattern of the foundations.  He
wondered if he could determine where the `high chamber' of the Vision had
been, but there was no chance of that.  All the while he kept his eye on
Gavin, who fortunately seemed quite chirpy that morning.
  The three friends eventually returned to the old house, then crossed the
river by a narrow footbridge.  They followed a path along the far bank that
brought them back into the town.  Will and Felip's car was already drawn up
outside the inn where they were to have lunch.
  The street was quite full of people, and Fritz was in among them straight
away.  He hugged old ladies, punched boys' shoulders and shook men's hands
like a politician seeking re-election.  In his case, it was all genuine.
He knew those people, and loved them as much as they loved him.
  He soon found a gang of his old schoolmates and almost immediately told
Oskar he was off to lunch at his friend Ceslaw's house.  He promised to
meet up with his companions at four by the church.  After they waved him
off, Oskar led them into the restaurant.
  It was past one o'clock, and the dining room of the Rosa zu Terlenehem
was full.  Fortunately, Oskar had reserved a table for his party.  The Rosa
had received a Michelin star, one of the few in Rothenia, so Henry was
looking forward to a good meal.  The host was quite attentive as Will and
Felip did the ordering for Henry and Gavin.
  Oskar meanwhile was enjoying himself, circulating about the room to greet
old friends and acquaintances.  When he finally returned to the table, the
conversation turned to current politics, which interested Henry deeply.
Will Vincent remained very much engaged in the affairs of his adopted land,
and had a lot to say about the successes and failures of Chancellor
Trachtenberg's administration.  Will was not too keen on their adoption of
the `Anglo-Saxon' economics of neo-conservative capitalism.  In his
opinion, privatisation was being pursued too quickly and too
indiscriminately, allowing national assets to fall into the hands of
conscienceless multinationals.
  `What, like the Peacher Corporation?' Henry asked with a smile.
  `Well yes, to an extent,' Will replied.  `Though it has to be said that
Peter Peacher is more interested in kick-starting new enterprise than in
asset-stripping.  His father's policy has always been investment in
economies, not ripping off the public by buying up monopolies and then
milking them on behalf of the shareholders.  But even PeacherCorp
internationalises the economy, and opens Rothenia to the vagaries of global
markets.'
  `But be fair Will!  The standard of living has been transformed since you
moved here,' protested Oskar.  `So far, everyone has benefited.  Strelzen
is becoming the market hub of Eastern Europe.  Look at the amazing
financial district growing up across the Starel, and the phenomenal
headquarters building Lord Rogers designed for the National Bank.  Even
some German conglomerates are transferring here because our corporation tax
is so low.  Strelsenermedia -- and you should know -- is an international
corporation which is more or less home-grown.  It's dominating the media of
surrounding countries too, even Austria.'
  `I'm just saying we don't need the worst aspects of globalism here, where
faceless corporations end up pulling the strings of national governments
and looting their economies.  That's just so not Rothenian.  And I'm not
sure Trachtenberg thinks long- term enough.'
  `So who put him there, Will?'
  `The people did, Oskar.'
  `Yes, but you told them he was there, and what sort of man he was.  So
don't complain of the consequences, my love!'
  Will grinned at Oskar, who smiled broadly back.  Adopting a more serious
expression, Oskar leaned across the table.  `There are parliamentary
elections coming up, Will.  Maybe it's time you thought of standing for one
of the Strelzen seats.  The Unity Party or the Christian Democrats would
put you on their lists.'
  Will gave him a quirky look.  `How long do you suppose it would be before
my starring role in that gay porn classic An American in Strelzen came to
light, Oskar?  It's too risky.  We may have gagged Hendrik Wileminn, but
there are others out there who would love to use such information.  Face
it, you and I both are compromised as electoral candidates.'
  Oskar heaved a sigh.  `I guess you're right, my Willemu.  We made our
choices and, though they've mostly brought us great happiness, there are
still some bitter consequences.'  He looked woefully at Will.  Everyone
around the table knew what he was referring to.
  Felip smiled at the two former lovers.  `My dear and cherished friends,
be satisfied.  You are both strong men who have done very great things.
You have saved this country from a terrible fate, and helped bring it
prosperity and freedom.  You have been instrumental in restoring its king,
who is the greatest man of us all.  These are halcyon days.  Don't you feel
it?  Aren't we often told that, for the good of the many, the few must
sometimes embrace pain and unhappiness?  If you do so willingly, your
reward will be even greater in the sight of God.'
  `Amen to that,' echoed Henry, very moved by Felip's words.  `That's
exactly what St Fenice said in her Revelation.'
  The others looked at him curiously.  Oskar commented, `I never got around
to reading early Rothenian literature.'
  Henry ploughed on.  `It's in her Revelation of the End Time.  She says
Rothenia will one day have a saviour who will preserve it at a terrible
cost to himself.'
  `Really?  I didn't know that,' mused Will.  `I'd heard of St Fenice, of
course, she's more or less the patron saint of Rothenian literature.  But
she's like Thomas Langland is to English speakers -- hardly anyone reads
her.  What got you interested in her?'
  `It was Matt's documentary, mostly.  But then she sort of took over.  Did
you know Rothenia had fascists between the wars who adopted her prophecies
as the basis for a programme of national renewal?'
  Oskar smiled.  `Oh yes, the KRB, they were big in Husbrau in my
great-grandfather's time.  He had a lot of trouble with that Gulik man, who
called himself "Den Direktor".  Horrible people goosestepping all over our
lovely land like Nazis.'
  `Why did your great-grandfather have trouble with him, Oskar?'
  `I can't remember exactly, but Gulik was convinced the Tarlenheims had
hidden St Fenice's body somewhere.  He got up a campaign with the
archbishop of the day -- not a nice man himself -- to recover Fenice and
re-inter her in the Marienkloster.  It was just nationalistic propaganda.
Gulik wanted to pose as a moral leader of the nation.'
  `Did you know that Kamil Bermann, one of Gulik's croneys, was the father
of your old enemy Piotr Bermann.'
  `I think someone mentioned it.  Old Bermann was quite famous in Husbrau.
He was born in Modenehem.  His son Piotr has disappeared from sight lately.
His own party dumped him after its election fiasco, for which he rightly
got blamed.'
  `Any news of him?' inquired Henry, with a degree of serious interest.
  Will butted in.  `I heard from the Minister of the Interior that he's
hanging out with the remnants of the former Communists, looking to found a
new party.  They've latched on to the anti-immigration and anti-EU issues.
He's marking time till the economy takes a downturn, at which point his
extremist agenda might spark some interest.'
  Henry had an ominous feeling about what he was hearing.  It sounded like
Bermann was definitely active in pursuit of something.  `Oskar, did the
police track down that black SUV which was hanging round the estate
yesterday?'
  Oskar looked blank, and then remembered.  `No ... but I still believe
they were just journalists.  You can't get rid of them.'

At four o'clock, the six men assembled outside the gate to the churchyard.
Oskar had retrieved three fine wreaths from the boot of his car.  Led by
Oskar and Fritz, they trooped through the gate and threaded along the lines
of graves.
  Henry asked Fritz why many of the headstones had iron stanchions with
hooks arching over them.
  `It's to hang lamps on through the night of All Souls.  It's an old
Rothenian tradition.  We keep vigil that restless night, when the dead
walk.'  Somehow, Fritz's remark gave Henry the serious creeps.  It made him
think back to his experience with Ed, Justin and Nate when he was possessed
by the spirit of Jehoiadah Scudamore in the woods near Trewern.  Though no
one else seemed to notice, Henry shuddered at the thought..

  They came at last to the north-western corner of the churchyard and the
Tarlenheim mausoleum.  Although the morning had been bright, clouds had
gathered during lunchtime, making the impressive pedimented building look
gloomy and austere.  The arch was closed with a locked wrought-iron gate.
A wind had got up, and was sighing through the long grass in a melancholy
way.
  `You OK, baby?' Henry asked Gavin, who had been trudging after Henry with
his usual cheerful docility.
  `Yes, my Henry, though ...' He hesitated.
  `What is it, Gavin?'
  `Nothing, but I feel a little ... odd.'
  `In what way, odd?'
  `Like nothing I've ever felt before.  It's not a bad feeling.  But my
fingers seem all tingly, as if they're giving off sparks, and I can feel
every pulse of my heart right through my body.  Do you think I'm OK?'
  Henry gave a little chuckle.  `You've not been sniffing something toxic,
have you?'
  Gavin didn't chuckle back.  He looked pensive.  Henry came closer,
letting the others go ahead.  He peered intently into Gavin's face, finding
something about it that struck him.  The dark eyes were very much alive and
dilated.  Gavin's whole body was radiating an indefinable air of almost
tangible energy.  He looked different, too, not quite so much like a shy
waif.  There was a curious sort of vigour about him, as if he had swelled
significantly.
  Henry took his warm hand and led him up to where everyone was waiting.
He noticed a new strength in Gavin's grip, yet when he looked again at the
smiling face beside him, it seemed much the same as ever.
  Henry was still puzzling over this when the Tarlenheim brothers placed
their wreaths on the mausoleum gate, then stood a while with heads bowed.
The others left them alone with their memories.  From a discrete distance,
Henry thought he could hear them speaking to their lost parents,
interrupting and correcting each other as children do when talking to
adults.  Then the brothers embraced, kissed and came back hand in hand, to
be kissed and embraced by their friends in turn.
  They all began drifting back towards the cars, and it was only when he
got to the churchyard gate that Henry realized Gavin was nowhere to be
seen.  After a quick look around, he told the others to wait.  He headed
back to the Tarlenheim mausoleum, and there indeed was Gavin, holding on to
the gate and staring fixedly into the dark interior.  When Henry got close
enough, he noticed the peculiar rigidity of Gavin's body.  The boy was in
the throes of another seizure.  His face was white, his gaze unblinking and
fixed.  There was no undoing his convulsive grip in the iron stanchions.
  Henry called loudly back to the cars.  In the end, Fritz came running
with Felip.  They looked concerned, but had no constructive suggestions to
make apart from slapping Gavin across the face.  Henry would have none of
that.  Eventually, Gavin gave a shuddering breath, unclamped his hand from
the gate and looked around -- first puzzled, then worried. `Did I do it
again?' he asked plaintively.
  `Yes, baby,' Henry confirmed.  `What happened this time?'
  `I was walking behind you, Henry, when I felt something pulling me back.
It was that really cozy warm feeling again, and I just sort of drifted off.
Next thing I know, I'm here.'
  `It's like sleepwalking,' Fritz observed.
  `But he wasn't asleep,' Henry objected.
  `I've heard of it happening to people who are apparently awake,' declared
Felip.  `Are you alright now, Gavin?'
  `Thank you, yes.  I don't feel bad.  In fact, I feel better than I ever
have.'
  `Let's get back to the car, baby.'  Henry felt no happier about the
incident, whatever Gavin said.