Date: Tue, 7 Jun 2011 22:18:11 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: 'Tom Browning's Schooldays' Chapter  7

			 Tom Browning's Schooldays

				    By

				   Joel

			       Chapter Seven


George was silent.  I lay still.  I was gripping the coverlet lest I leapt
up and confronted that foul creature.

     "I said I would have two sovereigns from you, Cousin George," - the
voice had a real sneer to it - "Your father owes my father much for the
rumours which spread.  Come George, open that purse of yours!"

     "I have only a half sovereign and five pence to see me home next
week," said George quietly and levelly.

     "Hunh! You will not need it as you will be travelling in comfort in
your father's third- best coach."  The jeering tone sounded again.  "Not
even his second-best coach for his young pride and joy. But do not quibble,
the half sovereign will have to do and I will have to play cards with
Jopling again.  He is too trusting to see I have them marked."  That awful
mad laugh again. "But I have new ones and six good dice which will fall as
I want and Figgis has a party of gentlemen who wish to play and I need ten
pounds to season the pot.  Pity that old hag didn't have more."

     I couldn't see but heard the jingle of coins in a long purse as Black
Jack must have displayed his money and a silent George must have had a
questioning look on his face.

     "Huhn, that old widow woman who died ten days ago.  Who'd have thought
she had three good sovereigns and seven shillings under a brick behind her
stove but I saw it was loose."

     "Old widow Munns who helped Mrs Williams?" George asked quietly.

     "That her name?  Nothing else worth having and the hovel stank like a
pigsty."

     "Her young grandson's the only family she has and that house and that
money is rightly his," George said almost silently, "And he's away in the
Navy."

     "Don't be too sorry, he won't miss it and he can earn more baring his
arse for his Captain's horny tassel or selling his hole in the taverns in
Portsmouth, no doubt."

     "You stole that from her house?  When?"

     How George kept from shouting out I did not know.

     Jack snickered.  "Two nights after she'd died.  Lock was easy.  Plenty
of flimsy locks around the village here and in that flea-bitten town."

     "What do you mean?" asked George.

     "What do you think I mean?  There wasn't much else to do at that
thieves' academy I was sent to before here.  I made good pickings round
that town and it was only my misfortune I got sent here."

     "Your misfortune?"

     He sniggered.  "First I wheedled my way into my master's good books
with my industriousness in my studies, except these were mostly behind the
tavern with the local locksmith who had a taste for young seed and taught
me much in exchange for my early spurts.  I enjoyed that for some six
months but he tired of me and needed younger meat, but there were others in
the town who paid well to sup. There were more than enough so I found
several young ones from the school who needed money and they rewarded me
with a portion of their gifts quite willingly, or else!  My word, I lived
high on all that."

     I wondered if my concealment might be ended as he gripped the bed post
nearest him.  His voice rose and still had that mocking tone.

     "I don't boast but I was well-equipped by near sixteen so I had good
revenge when my master found I had a good crib for my Caesar and he'd given
me several welts daily for that and other things he wrongly accused me of."
He laughed again.  "So I plugged the cunny of his horse-faced daughter and
had his stupid son face down over the bed he wetted every night.  She
whinnied and he squealed and I do not know which I enjoyed more, her
looseness or his tightness.  Three times for him and twice for her and they
were begging for more but that was not to be.  I was caught wearing my
master's wife's best ring as I showed my room- mates how I had been
exploring young Henrietta's holy place with that same finger. This one,
George!"

     He must have demonstrated as I heard George hiss with displeasure.

     "And that was my misfortune," he continued, "Six more stripes across
my arse and packed off to this God-forsaken hole.  But I had learned well.
I had kept myself well- supplied with money and other things which that
jeweller exchanged for paltry sums with no questions asked.  And here, the
same. It astonishes me how many flimsy locks there are."

     Both George and I came to the same conclusion.  He asked the question.

     "That dark figure?  The ghost?  You?"

     He snickered.  "Too true!  Who else has frightened the shit out of
those poor fools than Black Jack himself.  One time I came across some oaf
with belly ache in Carstairs's outhouse so as I passed I waved my arms and
loosened his bowels all the more.  I had a good mind to say boo as well to
that silly goose.  It would have been good sport if he had fallen down the
hole!"

     "I heard there was a thief about when I was in Mrs Williams's shop
last year.  She had accused her son Shem of raiding her purse and he'd been
beaten when he said he hadn't," George said.

     "True, he hadn't.  He didn't even know where she hid the bag.  I've
had a shilling or two out of that many a time."  The snigger again.  "My
motto is a little at a time.  The vicar's wife has mislaid so many brooches
and thinks her silly daughters have worn them and lost them and that pair
of wizened old virgins in the Old Hall have had three maids dismissed as
their strong box keeps being opened.  But then that was not so much sport
as with the Rector of that other school's village.  I found he had a locked
cupboard in his study and a collection of small books relating the taking
of young girls' virginities and the beating of young boys for playing with
their cock-a-doodles.  The pictures excited those ruffians who were intent
on giving me more of the same I gave young Patrick!"

     He must have moved closer to George as his voice had fallen in
loudness with that recital.

     "I smell brandy on your breath, Jack.  Have you been drinking?"

     "Why not, it keeps my spirits up," He laughed again. 'Spirits in and
spirits up' I thought.  "I found a new bottle in Norris's cubby-hole last
night.  He was as drunk as a fiddler's bitch anyway so will not miss it.
And I'll cause him as much trouble as I have that bastard Pullen."

     "You threw the ball of horseshit?... ...and the bucket?" George asked
sounding quite astounded.

     "Who else?"  He snorted again.  "That gob full of shit was my revenge
for the many cuts I've had and I wish I'd brained the bastard fully. His
head must be made of teak the way it bounced off.  It made him swear though
and I warrant some of the Pups learned some new words."  There was that
terrible snicker again. "But you interrupt my tale, my dear cousin."  So
all this confession was fuelled by more than a few sips I would say.  "I
have not told you I was taken more roughly than you were when I had you
over that hay-bale in the barn."  I heard almost a sob from George and it
took all my will not to move.  "Two big oafs held me and stripped me in
front of my room-mates two nights after I was there.  They asked if I knew
how a sucking pig felt on the spit as it was turned in front of the fire.
'Pity no fire in here' one said 'but you will be our sucking-pig'.  I was.
I sucked one and the other had me from the rear.  The Rector's books saved
me from any more than three repeats of that.  I learned fast, but other
poor new fools didn't fare so well and kept those churls and their friends
well satisfied as they did their rounds each night."

     "Why are you telling me all this?" asked George and added even more
quietly, "It's enough to get you hanged."

     "Because His Blessed Reverence the Honourable George Lascelles would
never tell and blab about his cousin."  The sneer in the voice was so
evident.  "A hanging?"  He gave a snort.  "If I could trust that damned
horse I might try being Gentleman Jack.  There's rich pickings there.  Even
without that mangy creature I've had a couple of boxes off the back of a
stage when the driver's been dozing.  Jump on, cut a couple of cords, tip
the stuff out and snaffle a few treats and leave the rest to be discovered
the next day.  Anything missing then who is there to blame?  Not me!
Anyway, my birthday was last week and I had no present from you.  That half
sovereign will suffice."  The voice became even more sinister. "Stand and
deliver!" The cackle that followed was really evil.

     "I've had enough," George said, "Here it is.  Take it and go."

     "And don't come back, I suppose.  Anyway, you can always cadge a few
pennies off that bum-boy of yours. He's a healthy looking brute, with a
horse pizzle to match his father's trade, no doubt.  Perhaps I've got it
wrong and he slips a goodly length to you and that other ninny you have in
your bed."  A coin rattled on the desk.  "Bye bye, Georgie, sweet dreams
and thank'ee for my birthday present!...."

     There was the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps, another mocking
laugh and a slam of our door as George must have got up and kicked it shut.
Yes, we'd both heard enough to get Black Jack sentenced.  He was safe,
though, as who would believe two boys and their tales?  I felt he would
come to a violent end some day but now I had to comfort poor George.  He
was almost beyond comforting.  As I cautiously pulled aside the side
hanging I saw he was now sitting at the desk, sobbing openly with his head
on his arms.  I slid off the bed.  Could I give him a brotherly hug or
would that be the action of a bum-boy?  I took the plunge.  I knelt down
beside him and put my arms round his shoulders and held him tight.  He was
breathing in short gasps and mumbling under his breath.

     "What am I to do?  I cannot tell my Father or my brothers....  He and
his Father will ruin our family...."

     I hugged him as tightly as I dared and slowly the mumbling stopped.
He had been so far gone he only then realised I was there.

     "Oh, Tom," he sobbed, "If only I could have spared you that. What am I
to do?  I hate him from the very depths.  He ruined my young life and now
he's ruined others and threatens even more."

     "George," I whispered, "He's ruining his own life not yours any
longer.  He drinks and I wager he has other more dangerous things he
takes."  Lancelot had told me of patients who spent money on so-called
'tonics' but these were often laced with powerful ingredients and caused
them to see things or go into a stupor.  "We are friends, I hope, and we'll
survive the knowledge of his wickedness.  You are rid of him for a half
sovereign..."

     "...Until the next time.  He has money off me each term. He has
taunted me before but not so foully.  That's the first time he's said
anything about that other school.  I knew he'd done wicked things there to
get him expelled but all that master knows is the stealing."

     "But he also suffered as well," I said, "He was a..." I hesitated.
"...a stuffed pig."

     This made George cheer up a bit and I laughed inwardly at the imagery.
But George had also suffered at his hands, or his prick.  George relapsed
into melancholy and gave a despairing sigh.

     "I could not tell anyone, but that fiend said he would examine me
after I complained I had a splinter in my backside.  Next thing I knew was
what I thought was a probing finger, but no, he had his stiff little pizzle
at my hole.  He had moistened me and then thrust.  I couldn't scream as he
had a hand over my mouth.  I bit him which made him angry and I was fucked
hard and he tore me.  He swore if I told anyone he would geld me like the
young foals. I burnt my blood-stained underclothes and could not shit for
three days.  It was just before that poor young groom was made to suck him.
I had refused and he did not dare to try force on me again.  I was so glad
when he left and my heart sank when he came here.  Am I ever to be free of
him?"

     "He'll have to leave this school soon," I said, "He's in his last
year.  He's eighteen now."

     George nodded.  "We must just ignore him I suppose.  He'll no doubt
cause havoc wherever he goes.  At least I'm free of him in class."  He
sighed.  "I hope I can gain Mr Prior's confidence."

     I picked up the sheets of paper he'd been writing on - luckily not
tear-stained.  I looked at the book of exercises and saw he was doing well.
I could spot no errors in his calculations.

     "I have some lines to construe for tomorrow but they are not
difficult," I said.  I was in charge now.  "You light a fire and a good pot
of tea should make us more cheerful.  I'll run to Mr Williams and get some
of that good thick cake he makes.  Enough for Theo when he comes, too."  I
grabbed my jacket with my purse and scurried off.

     All was ready when I returned and two happier boys had a doorstep of
plum cake and a beaker of hot tea and had a laugh over my description of
the kidnaps in Scott's Guy Mannering which I had started to read two days
before.  I read out 'Gin by pailfuls, wine in rivers, Dash the window-glass
to shivers!  For three wild lads were we, brave boys, And three wild lads
were we...'.  I stopped there as my eye caught the last line.  'Thou on the
land, and I on the sand, And Jack on the gallows-tree!'.  I showed George
and he shook his head.

     "An omen?"

     But we had just about regained our usual good spirits when Theo
appeared.  He'd spent the time playing chess with Simpson and was moaning
as he had lost two games.  He cheered up, too, with plum cake and tea.
George then told him a bit about Jack's visit without too much detail,
though he did say about the confession of the two attacks on Pullen.  Theo
whistled at that.  I said he had come to cadge money and Theo said he
always did.  He asked George how much he had left.  George took out his
purse and emptied it.  It was true.  Five pennies.  That was all.

     "George," I said, "I have some hidden away.  Take it, please, as you
have nothing.  Rowley will be here with enough for the beds at the inns on
the way home."  I took out my purse and found the hidden pocket where I
kept a half-guinea Aunt Fanny Wright had given me last Christmas when she
became tearful as Nicholas, her son, was far away in New York.  "Please,
George, I want you to have it."

     George was sobbing again and Theo had to comfort him as much more of
the tale of his torment by Black Jack came flooding out.  Poor Theo was
almost weeping, too.  More tea was brewed and George's new 'foine pair a
bellas' were put to good use.  George refused to take the money and said he
would write an urgent note to his father which should reach him before the
coachman set out to fetch him home.  His excuse would be he had entertained
too lavishly which might be expected of a Lord's youngest and dearest son.
He scribbled a note then rushed out as he knew the North-bound stage would
be passing through at eight in the evening and the driver would be willing
to accept a letter to be passed on for sixpence if left with Mrs Williams.
The coach always stopped there to take on extra sustenance for the driver
and passengers. He did take the sixpence Theo offered him.

     George rushed off to make his delivery and Theo eyed me as soon as the
door was closed.  "And what else have you to tell me?" he asked, "I am sure
that was not all that was said."

     I was flummoxed.  Theo and George were such good friends but I could
not break the confidence that George had placed in me.  "Believe me, Theo,"
I said and shook my head, "I cannot say more.  But George in all good time
will tell you I am sure."

     He smiled.  "You are also a true friend.  I would not press you and I
know you have George's best interests at heart.  He would not accept your
money because he values you as a friend.  You, the riding and now Robin
have made him more cheerful this term than he could ever have been given
the ill fortune he had with that master last year and that dreadful Remove
he had to endure."

     George returned and was happier.  He said he'd heard there was to be a
great Sing- Song again in Big School on Saturday evening and I'd better
practice my flute as Gordon had volunteered to do a Scotch sword-dance and
would want some jaunty tunes.  "His father is Laird of Donkeybrae or some
such heathen name and has so much land it makes my Father's acres look like
a garden patch.  He has invited Maitland and me to go shooting deer but
it's a wild place to get to, but he said I wouldn't have to wear that
Scotch dress though his father does to keep the Highlanders happy."

     I said he should finish reading Rob Roy to get an idea of Scottish
ways and my brothers always said the Scotch soldiers were counted the most
fearsome against any enemy.

     The rest of the week went quietly enough.  George was commended by Mr
Prior in that he had done ten more calculations than set and had got all
correct.  The five of us had a ride out on Wednesday afternoon but poor
Newton was very tired when we returned and needed a draught of Mr Darlow's
best tonic.  I think there must have been a strong barley wine in it as
Newton was soon lying down in his stall with Timmy whispering in his ear.
Both Tarquin and Perseus had nuzzled the old horse when he had returned.
Mr Darlow shook his head but said nothing as we took leave of him.

     Mr Ridley's class on Friday made us all think.  He had asked us to
read copies of an unsigned pamphlet which told of the continued slavery in
America.  We had known of the slavery of ancient Rome and of Greece and
that vassals were really slaves to their masters in this country in the
past.  We knew about the slave-trade and that vast amounts of money had
been both by the export of slaves from Africa to the Americas and the
wealth of the plantations they worked on.  Even George had said his family
had had sugar plantations in Jamaica and, of course, young Timmy was a
descendant of a slave.  Winstanley pointed out that Britain had passed the
final Anti-Slavery Act only in 1838, just five years ago.  Preston asked if
slaves knew that they were in captivity as it were.  Winstanley got quite
heated and said he had read of the beatings and chaining of slaves in
America and Farquar said that had happened even nearer at home in the mines
in Scotland where boys were forced to work for up to seven years and if
they tried to escape were fitted with an iron collar.

     The question of the very poor in England came up as Dennison said that
with the bad harvests of two years ago the workhouse in his father's
village was overcrowded and it was costing the parish much to keep the
relief even at a minimum.  What I then discovered was that Dennison's
family owned the whole village and much of the surrounding countryside.
Even Squire Matthews wasn't as rich as that though he said he could hunt
three days a week in different directions without leaving his own land!
Baring said much of the problem was that people were leaving the villages
to move into towns where there were the new manufactories and so it was
generally the very poor who got left behind.  Mr Ridley said we should find
out more ourselves and also start to think of what the growth of the
railways might bring as well.  Would they take over from the canals and the
roads and would we all end up with a railway track up to our own town or
village?  I would have to ask Uncle Wright about that as I already knew he
had an interest in railway building.

     On Saturday there was to be a great football tournament between
Parker's and Carstairs's.  George was annoyed as he said Ridley's had been
cheated in the last match with Parker's as more players were let on when
anyone said they were tired or hurt.  I said he could borrow Silver again
for a ride and that shut him up.  Just Robin, me and him went riding
together although other lads had their horses out as well.  Newton wasn't
breathing very well so Timmy said he would stay and play cards with Shem
and two of the other grooms.  I gave him three pence because I knew the
other lads liked to make a wager and Shem would not allow cheating.

     It was quite chilly and the wind was blowy but we had a good race over
the big field and were quite red-faced and wind-swept when we returned.
Timmy was full of joy.  He had his three pence which he tried to give back
to me as well as two pence more.  I said he should go and spend some at Mrs
Trotter's sweet shop.  I thought of what we had heard yesterday with Mr
Ridley and wondered how someone as kind and gentle as Timmy could have
descended from a slave and what would have happened if that grandfather
hadn't been granted his freedom.

     As we neared Ridley's House we saw Theo talking with that fop Jopling.
I had avoided him since that meeting with him and Jack after Chapel.  It
wasn't hard as both he and Jack and others in Pratt's seemed to manage to
keep away from most daily services other than the really compulsory ones on
Sundays.

     "Have you seen Jack?" Theo asked as we got up to the pair.

     "He didn't come back to our room last night and he hasn't been for
luncheon today," Jopling added and looked quite worried.

     I didn't like to say he was probably out robbing old ladies or
frightening young lads in privies.  I remembered then he'd said he was
going to the Bell last night with his cards and dice but the look on
George's face stopped me blurting that out.

     "Why worry, Jopling?" George said, "A bad penny always turns up."

     He said no more and Jopling turned on his elegant heel and stalked
off.

     "Probably spending his ill-gotten gains on some whore in Mayfield,"
said George, "And I hope he catches the pox!"

     Theo was carrying a paper bag and had treated us to currant buns from
Mr Williams's bakery.  He said that Japhet would be bringing plenty of
sausages for tomorrow night's feast to celebrate the ending of term.  So
tea and buns warmed us up ready for the proper evening meal and then the
Sing-Song.

     I went along to see Gordon who said he would have to do his dance over
two long staves as no swords were available.  I said I'd seen a pair
crossed on a wall in Mr Dimbleby's parlour.  He was off and came back with
two officer's swords in scabbards which he said would be perfect.  I played
him a Scotch reel I had learned from Mr Venables.  He snapped his fingers
and showed me how I should get a good rhythm going. He said Jameson the
accordion player also knew the tune.  He whispered he would be in his
Highland dress as well.

     There was subdued excitement during the evening meal and Theo told
George he was to have only one beaker of small beer if he was going to open
the singing. There was plenty of sweet cordial and he made good with that
as I think the bellyache he had before was a lesson. However, we did toast
each other and our neighbours on our table.

     So to Big School which looked quite festive with plenty of candles and
a hot posset instead of the usual cold cordial and, as a special treat,
some of the older Whelps were there looking around quite transfixed.
Winstanley banged his tankard and said it had been a good term and we
should be proud to be at such a good school. This was the signal for George
who stood with Jameson beside him and opened the proceedings with 'Come all
ye jolly sailor boys' as he had done on the occasion of the first
Sing-Song.  It was non-stop after that and great fun especially when four
of the Whelps, whose voices were still clear and treble, sang and acted
'Sweet Polly Oliver' with one as Polly, another as the Sergeant, the third
as the Doctor and the fourth as the Captain who laid down across a table at
first and was brought back to life.

     Of course, the highlight of the evening occurred when Collett came in
carrying the two swords in their scabbards and ceremoniously unsheathed
them and laid them crosswise on the floor.  A great cheer went up when
Gordon then appeared swathed in a long black cloak with a Scotch bonnet on
his head surmounted by a long pheasant's feather.  With a flourish he cast
the cloak away and the cheer then was even greater as he stood arrayed in
kilt and doublet with a silver trimmed sporran.  I was ready with my flute
and Jameson played a chord, then we were off.  Gordon was a superb dancer
and his feet seemed to dart here and there never touching the crossed
swords but making patterns between them and over them.  There were hoots
and whistles as we finished that tune and to shouts of 'More!' we set off
with the second Scotch tune I knew.  All the school were clapping along as
we got near the end and the cheer was enough to raise the rafters as Gordon
bowed and we two were made to bow as well.  I got a cheer, too, when I
played the Hornpipe, again with all clapping along and then Gordon was
persuaded to do his first dance again.  I think the windows shook with the
mighty roar at the end.  We did have two quieter moments.  Simpson sang
more of Mr Purcell's, this time 'Fairest Isle' which was another of my
mother's favourites.  George made a great play of singing the shanty 'Tom
Bowling' and made everyone giggle with his pathos on verse ends such as
'And now he's gone aloft'.  He made our table giggle even more when he said
he thought of changing it to 'Tom Browning' but I certainly wasn't gone!

     A very happy crowd left Big School with 'Merry Christmas' on
everybody's lips as we dispersed to our separate Houses.  As we neared
Ridley's a strange procession came from the direction of the stables.
Shem, Jack the farrier's lad and two of the older grooms were being led by
Mr Darlow and Robin holding up lanterns as they carried something with a
bit of old sacking over its middle on a rough hurdle.  As they passed us I
could see it was a naked body.  Theo stepped forward for a closer look and
held his nose.  Just then something dropped onto the cobbles with a slight
'clink'.  As the procession went on in silence Theo kicked the object and
then bent down but didn't pick it up.

     "It looks like a die," he said and gripped his nose again, "But I'm
not picking it up.  It's got shit on it."

     George was a little braver.  He kicked it onto the grass verge and
rubbed the object in the grass with his foot.  I was carrying a bulls-eye
lantern as my task to see us home.  I held it down and George picked up a
shiny metal die.  "I wager it's one of Jack's six," he whispered.  Others
crowded around to see but George said it was nothing important.  Just then
a tall figure came rushing along the same path and diverted attention.  It
was Dr Robert Dimbleby also carrying a lantern and with two bags awkwardly
held by their handles in the other hand.  He must have spied me as I had
lifted up my lamp when I heard his rapid footsteps.

     "Ah, Tom Browning, come with me, please, I may need your help," he
said, "Please take one of my bags."  I was whisked away having only time to
hand my flute case to a bemused Theo.

     I was more than curious.  "Is it someone dead?" I asked rather
querulously as I scurried along by his side.

     "I hope not, but he was lucky," was the only reply.

     The procession made its way towards Pratt's but followed a side path
as they got near which led to a small barn at the back.  I knew then that
the recumbent figure must be Black Jack.  But what had happened to him?
The rising smell was indescribable.  It was the smell of an overripe midden
as my Father was wont to say.  A midden topped up with more and more straw
and horseshit and buckets of horse piss and left to rot to make a good
mixture for spreading on the fields.  I thought the only worse smell was
the slurry in pits from the cows on Biddles' farm in the next village to
ours.

     I held my lamp up as Dr Dimbleby was directing the lads to put the
hurdle down carefully and to make a platform with some of the straw bales.
I don't know how they went near but they must have been used to the stink
of the stables on a hot day but this was winter!  The low platform was
ready and the hurdle was placed on it.  Jack had not stirred.

     Dr Dimbleby beckoned Mr Darlow.  "I think you ought to go and get Mr
Pratt and see if there is any warm water.  Not hot, not cold, just warm."

     Even he stood back and just looked.  "Young Tom," he said at last, "I
think you will be useful just to hold any instruments I may need.  I can't
tell what they've done to him until he's been cleaned but I did note he's
been tied up in a rather delicate place.  The lads told me when they found
him he was almost sinking in the old midden they haven't used for a couple
of months.  They heard moans and then he fainted.  That midden was the
saving of him.  Know why?"

     If he'd been there last night and all day I could guess.  It had been
very cold last night.  There was frost on the ground this morning and the
football game would have been called off if the frost hadn't gone.  The day
had been bright but quite cold.  I knew this from my wind- burnt cheeks and
I had worn a thick wool shirt as well as my linen one under my leather
jerkin for the ride.

     "Middens, when they are left to rot, ferment and get hot, Sir," I
said, "If he had been naked in a field he would have frozen last night."

     "Good," he said.  "And what do you make of him having what looked like
a pack of cards torn up and scattered over him?"

     I heard Shem and the farrier's lad snigger.  Robin stepped forward
holding up two fragments of card luckily not stained.

     "Sir," he said, "These are marked cards.  See, the back of this one
has the line there not quite the same as the one on the other piece."

     "Ah, Robin, it is you.  I thought it was," Dr Dimbleby said as he took
the pieces and looked at them closely under the light of Robin's lantern.
"You must have very sharp eyes to spot that."

     "I guessed they were marked.  My father showed me cards like this he'd
taken from a sharper in an inn where he'd been working.  He said the
sharper needed a surgeon's help after the inn-keeper's sons had dealt with
him.  And that story taught me not to play at cards in taverns."

     Dr Dimbleby smiled and the other lads laughed.

     "I hope they hurry up as I need to know if this dear soul needs my
surgical skill."

     With that there were hurrying footsteps and muttering as a very
elegant gentleman rushed into the barn.  This must be Mr Pratt, dressed for
dinner, white tie, tail coat, black silk knee britches and white stockings.
I had not seen him before and I wondered what he would make of the scene.

     "What is all this!" he started then stood back and also held his nose.
"You're Dimbleby's son, aren't you?"

      Dr Dimbleby gave a little bow. "That is correct, Sir, I am Dr
Dimbleby but more importantly...," Here he pointed at the supine body on
the hurdle. "...I think this is one of your pupils, most probably Master
Jack Lascelles and most probably under the influence of strong spirits, ale
and a dose or two of laudanum or worse.  I need to have him cleaned so I
can examine him further.  I need warm water, washcloths, towels and about
four willing helpers from amongst your staff."

     Mr Pratt, I must say, was quite superb.  He sent Shem to get his
butler to organise four of the footmen and scullions.  The footmen were
told to change from their livery and to bring all the items needed.

     Before turning on his heel he said quite clearly, "This is the last of
that young man's escapades.  He was expelled before, he's expelled again!"

     As he marched out even Black Jack had a reply to that.  He groaned and
let free a great fart and there was another 'clink' from the ground beneath
the hurdle. I think we all laughed.

     Dr Dimbleby took my lamp and bent down and with a twig lying on the
ground dragged out another shit-encrusted object.  He used the twig to
brush it.  "Ah-ha," he said, "Very interesting."  I had overcome the
feeling I had about the stench and had bent down to look.  It was a second
die.

     "We found another like that when he was carried past us out there," I
said, "His cousin George has it."

     Dr Dimbleby laughed quietly.  "You know where it's been?"

     I guessed!  "I think there may be more," I said.  Oh dear!  Perhaps I
was letting too much knowledge out.

     "Don't worry," Dr Dimbleby said, "I've seen it all before!"

     Oh!  I couldn't speculate more as the footmen and scullions returned
with buckets and cloths.

     "I'll arrange that you'll be well rewarded for cleaning him.  Plenty
of water first and then wipe.  But if Master Browning and I are to deal
with him closer we need these."  He opened one of the bags he had brought
with him and took out two cotton smocks.  "Here, my lad, we don't want our
good clothes dirtied."

     Mine was a bit large and loose but if I had to help close up it would
be best.  I then held up my lamp again.  Black Jack was lying on his side
so with a heave Jack the farrier and Shem turned him on his front and took
away the sacking which had covered him.  As the water cascaded over his
back we could see he'd been well-beaten on his back and buttocks.  The skin
was not broken but over a dozen red weals laced down him.  "We'll deal with
those later," the Doctor said.  "His legs and arms next.  I need to see if
anything is broken."  The fingers on both hands were very bruised.  "He's
been stamped on I would say," he said, "Show the lamp here, please, young
Tom."

     On one of the fingers was a strange ring.  It was a coarse metal and
had an engraved death's head on it.  The farrier's lad gasped.  "He'll be
dead if he meets those fellows again.  My father told me he was on a jury
once for some stranger who was found dead in a ditch wearing one of those.
He'd been cheating and they were told it was a sign."  Even that strapping
young man stepped back and shook his head.  "He's marked," he said.

     He had to come back though once Black Jack was cleaner on his back.
The pair turned him over and he began to groan and as he was placed on his
back there was another fart and two more clinks.  We all knew where the
dice had been.  More water was sloshed over him but his face was cleaned
more gently even though his hair was quite matted with straw and shit and
needed several bowlfuls to shift it.

     "What's this?" Dr Dimbleby said as the cleaning got down below his
belly. "I thought he'd been tied up as well."  He did a strange thing.  He
tapped Black Jack's belly and I saw it was quite distended.  "My G_d!" he
swore, "We had better be quick if I think that's what they've done."

     He reached into the other bag and took out a box. He handed it to
Robin to hold as he opened it.  There were a number of rather gruesome
looking surgical instruments like the ones Cousin Lancelot had shown me.
He selected a very sharp looking knife and as I shone the light down he
lifted Black Jack's cock.  But it wasn't just his cock.  It was encased in
what must be Black Jack's long purse and the leather laces at the top were
tied very tightly round the root of his prick.

     Dr Dimbleby gave a snort.  "Our nasty friends must be good scholars as
they have copied a punishment meted out to Roman soldiers found drunk on
duty."  He tapped Black Jack's belly again, this time with the handle of
the knife which Lancelot had told me was called a scalpel.  I heard the
four of Mr Pratt's servants shuffle forward to look and Mr Darlow and our
group did the same.  Dr Dimbleby tapped again.  "You see, the punishment
was more of the same.  The soldier was drunk so he was stripped and made to
stand with his hands tied and held up by a rope flung over a branch as it
was needed to be done in the open air as you will witness."  He tapped
again.  "Then one of his bootlaces would be looped and slipped over
you-know-what to the base and drawn tight."  I heard one of the scullions
give a little gasp.  "He would then have wineskin after wineskin of the
most rotten wine poured down his throat until his belly could hold no more.
Think what happens after a few hours when more would be poured down.  He
would be drunk, his bladder full to bursting and unable to piss." He waved
the scalpel from side to side and it glinted in the lamp light. "If he had
offended before, then a quick slash with a dagger up his belly would
suffice."

     We all gasped then as Dr Dimbleby drew the scalpel up Black Jack's
belly as he spoke.  Mercifully just with the handle.  One of the scullions
cried out and slumped and was caught by his fellows.

     "Sorry, my dear fellow, I must not get carried away."  He laughed.
"But if it was his first time then the dagger would be used to cut the
knot."  He lifted the purse and it's contents. "I would stand well back as
I think we may see a fountain," he said as he carefully sliced through the
leather thong and quickly pulled the purse away.  He was right.  Black Jack
groaned and his stubby prick lengthened slightly and stood proud and a
stream of piss fountained up and fell back over him and the hurdle.  More
evil smell.  All the lads burst out laughing as the display continued and I
was reminded of what Uncle Dodd had said about the dangers of baptising
unclothed boy babies.  He said that after the first had let fly he asked
for them at least to be covered down there.  Uncle Dodd was good for all
sorts of stories he said we should not tell we had heard.  But Robin was
more than ready.

     "'And from the chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, as if this
earth in thick fast pants were breathing, a mighty fountain was momently
forced!" he recited to more guffaws.

     "More water," instructed Dr Dimbleby after his own laughter had
subsided, "That was quite an exhibition was it not?"

     He then decided he would examine Black Jack further in the morning as
he was beginning to groan and he said he would probably revive by then.  It
was then Mr Pratt returned with a colourful dressing-gown covering his suit
and a red velvet turban on his head.  He handed out coins to all and I was
rewarded with a whole crown.  He and Dr Dimbleby had a quiet discussion and
Black Jack was carried off to some scullery where he would be bedded for
the night.

     Mr Darlow and the lads went off jingling their coins, saying they
would certainly not be visiting the Bell in future, and I walked with Dr
Dimbleby back to Ridley's House.  He congratulated me on my stoicism and
said Robin had impressed him, too. He took up his bags and borrowed my
lantern as his candle had burned out and marched off whistling.  Of course,
George and Theo were waiting impatiently with about six others for news.
We heard the midnight chimes before we fell into our beds quite exhausted.
Even George was too tired for his nightly exercise.  "I am free of that
unholy wretch at last!" were his last words I heard before I fell asleep.
I just wondered if we all were?

     There were whispers and rumours as we had breakfast and there were
more questioning looks from all sides as I took my place in Chapel.  As I
came out Jopling and his friend were waiting.  He looked quite concerned.
"Is Jack alive?" was his startling question, "We have not been told
anything."

     I said he was alive when I had last seen him and Dr Dimbleby would be
examining him this morning.  He looked quite relieved but then he turned to
his friend.  "I will have that twenty-five pounds off him then whatever his
excuse this time.  His father will have to pay, my father will make sure of
that."

     He didn't acknowledge I was still standing at the bottom of the Chapel
steps but turned and walked off.  "He's just as much a villain as Jack is,"
said Theo at my elbow.

     George was much happier now with that burden lifted but what pleased
him and us even more was a note delivered by Ham when we returned from
lunch.  It was from Mrs Ridley. 'Tea at four' was all it said above her
very neat signature.  We spent the afternoon packing our chests ready for
them to be taken down, for the carrier in my case, or to be loaded onto
George's father's coach and onto Theo's father's chaise, if it arrived!

     The parrot was ready for us as we were shown into Mrs Ridley's
parlour.  'Three cheers!  Bare their arses!' was it's greeting.  Mrs Ridley
ignored it and said 'Sit down, boys, Mr Pitt seems to have learned a new
phrase or two and I'm not sure who is teaching him."  The slight smirk on
Barney's face as he handed round plates gave some indication of a possible
tutor.

     I thought Mrs Ridley would want details of yesterday's happenings but
she had letters for each of us to take home to our mothers.  "I must
correspond more with your Mother," she said as she handed me a bulky
package.  "I have looked at our pedigree and I see we have a common
Crossley ancestor.  He was a gentleman farmer but it his sister who is in
George's family."  She handed George a packet and looked from him to me.
"I must say, though, you do not look alike, not like that sweet boy who
will be with us next term." She pointed to the packet I was holding. "There
is a note in yours for his mother as well."  She turned to Theo and held up
another letter. "Your Mother is instructed to keep the Bishop on the right
path.  I do not want him to waver over the Scholarship.  I hear other
Governors are in agreement with me..."  She stopped.  "...I mean with Mr
Ridley."  Uncle Dodd was fond of saying about certain wives in the County
that they were the 'Power behind the Throne' and here it was being
demonstrated.  He would be amused.

     We tucked our missives away and smiled at each other as we ate
steadily through the 'Cook's specials'.  There was chat then and Mrs Ridley
played on her new forte-piano while George sang 'Under the Greenwood Tree'
and 'Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes' and finished with 'Tom Bowling'
except this time he did sing 'Tom Browning' and changed the words so I
wasn't dead in the end!  We clapped and Theo said George would be in the
Opera House some day.

     That evening we had a good feast of hot sausages, slices of ham, with
bread and a pickle George had wheedled from Mrs Partridge our doughty cook.
By the end there were at least ten of us spread around our small room and
the noise got even more when Gordon opened a flask of good Scotch whisky
which he had been hoarding.  I had two sips and my throat was on fire until
Theo added some clear water to my beaker. We toasted the School, the Queen,
our families and all of us.  School would finish for the holidays tomorrow
and we would be off home on Tuesday.  "That is," said Theo once again, "If
my father remembers to send the chaise!"  I was glad that Black Jack wasn't
even mentioned.

     Next morning after the usual break Mr Martin was telling us what he
expected us to read during our holiday when Mr Ridley rapped on the door
and came in.  We all stood as he entered and he waved us to sit down.  He
said he'd come to congratulate us all on the progress we'd made and gave
each of us a packet to give our parents with a report of our endeavours in
it.  He then said we could be dismissed for the rest of the day but not to
be idle!

     I needed to go to the stables to check that Blaze was ready for the
morning and that Robin had packed his saddle-bags and that Mr Darlow had
the bills for care of our mounts ready to take home.  I knew they were
ready as Robin had been quite industrious and had prepared them all ready
for Mr Darlow's signature.  Robin was standing by Newton and stroking the
poor old horse's muzzle as young Timmy stood by him with tears streaming
down his cheeks.

     "Mr Darlow does not think Newton will last much longer and Timmy is
sad I am going away as well."  He bent down to the lad's height.  "I'll be
back, I promise, be brave."  He stroked his head and the young lad did
smile then.

     It was then that things began to happen.  A closed black carriage was
driven into the stable yard by someone in a black greatcoat and tricorn hat
with a black cockade.  Two large men leapt off the back and stood by the
closed door and we crowded nearer the stable door as a sad procession came
into the yard.  Two of Mr Pratt's footmen, in plain suits, held a
struggling, swearing Black Jack who seemed still to be more than a little
drunk.  No longer was he Black Jack as he was dressed in a plain brown
fustian suit.  It was certainly not made for him as it was at least two
sizes too large.  His hands were bandaged and one foot dragged as he
walked.  Jack the farrier's lad followed shouldering Jack's chest and two
more footmen were carrying smaller cases.  These were all tied on the back
of the carriage while Jack was held tightly.  As he was man-handled towards
the coach he saw us looking.  He spat, then let loose a stream of oaths and
told us exactly what he thought of the school and all in it.  He must have
spotted me.  The shouts increased.

     "Where's my fucking cousin, you miserable cunt?  I'll have his fucking
guts one day!  He must have fucking peached on me!  He'll be shitting out
of his bloody ears when I get him!"  There was a loud neighing from the
stable.  Tarquin had heard the hateful voice and was pawing at the ground
and giving vent to his feelings.  "That damned horse can go to the
knacker's yard for all I care.  I have no more use for it.  Let me go and
I'll slit it's bloody throat!  I still have it's mark on my arse!"  By this
time young Timmy had his arms round Robin and Robin was holding the boy to
him. "And as for that damned black runt he can go to the Devil tied to that
horse and good riddance!"  That was quite the wrong thing to say.  Jack the
farrier's lad stepped up behind him and must have delivered a straight blow
to his evil name-sake's kidneys.  Jack vomited, splashing the ground and
then farted.  He was bundled into the carriage by the two men and I saw the
inside was plain leather and full of sacking.  Jack's own guts were on fire
but at least he wouldn't be shitting out of his ears.

     The door was slammed shut and locked.  A thought struck me.  The last
time I'd seen a carriage like that it had come through the village and I
was told it was being driven to the madhouse. The two large men climbed on
the back, the driver cracked his whip, the two horses took the strain and
Jack was gone.

     Another group entered the stable yard.  It was Mr Pratt with both Mr
Dimbleby and Dr Dimbleby.  Mr Pratt was now arrayed in day clothes and was
wearing a shiny top hat with a long black cloak over his shoulders. They
stood and surveyed our group.  Mr Pratt spoke first.

     "I think we may say the School has seen the last of that scoundrel.  I
apologise for the language and the sentiments expressed.  My House has had
the displeasure of his company for far too long and it has been only his
father's earnest entreaties which have kept him here.  We return him in
that deranged state you have unfortunately witnessed to the tender care of
his family in London.  He may quieten down somewhat after four days or so
in that confined space.  For the present Mr Dimbleby has plans and I bid
you good-day."  He touched his hat and turned on his heel.  Mr Dimbleby
looked at his son and the look told all.  Father's 'earnest entreaties'
equals 'father's money'!

     "Let us go inside out of the chill," Mr Dimbleby said as Mr Pratt
disappeared, "We must discuss several things."  We were quite subdued as we
filed back into the stable.  What was interesting was that Timmy let go of
Robin and went straight to Tarquin's stall where the horse was still
restless.  As Mr Dimbleby began to speak again I realised that Tarquin had
quietened down and was neighing very quietly with Timmy beside him.

     "I think several of you were involved in those happenings last night.
They must be forgotten, but, to stem any rumours, Jack Lascelles was caught
cheating both at cards and dice and was dealt with by persons unknown.  Mr
Figgis has been warned that the magistrates will be informed of illegal
gaming and any further trouble will have consequences."  He surveyed us and
there were nods from the stable lads.  They had been warned, too.  "My son
wishes to compliment you all on the work you did last night and I know you
have received some recompense which should make amends for the unwarranted
duties you had to perform and should help you forget such things."  More
nods.  The coins would keep mouths closed.  "Now, we all heard his final
words."  He walked over to Tarquin's stall.  "My boy, that horse will be
yours.  I will arrange for it's upkeep but you can claim ownership. There
will be no knacker's yard.  I will write a letter which you must keep
safe."  Timmy looked open- mouthed at Mr Dimbleby then reached up and flung
his arms round Tarquin's neck.  The horse immediately knelt and neighed and
rubbed his head against Timmy.  "I think we know true ownership," Mr
Dimbleby said quietly.

     He walked over to his son.  "But we must help the boy as well."

     Jack the farrier's lad stepped forward.  "Sir, he can come with me to
my mother's.  He will be cared for faithfully."

     That seemed to be the end but I thought I might have a quiet word with
Mr Dimbleby.  I followed the pair as they left the stable giving Robin a
signal I would talk to him later.

     "Sir," I said as I caught up with them, "May I suggest something
else."

     Mr Dimbleby smiled.  "Young Tom, I would listen to you any time.
Robert tells me you were a great assistant last night.  I hope you slept
well after the excitement."

     His son gave a laugh and put his hand in his pocket.  "I think you and
that wretch's cousin should have these.  I found the rest this morning."
He winked.  "I must not say where they were but they were not placed there
for his comfort and they have been cleaned."  Four dice were placed in my
cupped hands.  "I have kept one for my cabinet of curiosities."

     We all chuckled and I placed the relics of that night in my jacket
pocket.

     "What is your plan?" Mr Dimbleby asked.

     "Sir, I don't think young Timmy is really a stable-lad.  He was a
gardener's boy before he came here.  I know my Father needs more help, that
is, my Mother has plans for her walled garden and the glasshouses and Mr
Bottom our head gardener is always pressed for good help. If Timmy comes
home with us tomorrow we can see if he is suited.  He does have a mount now
and my Father will see the horse is well-maintained.  I'll ask George
Lascelles his opinion as the lad was there before."  I knew George would
agree with me in case Timmy was wheedled away again.

     "You have a good head and heart," Mr Dimbleby said, "Please discuss it
with George Lascelles as I seem to have oversight over the boy and the
horse at the moment!"  He laughed.  "A good solution and one I can agree
with, too."

     He shook hands with me as did his son who said he would see me, no
doubt, in the future.

     George was annoyed he hadn't seen his cousin being despatched so
decisively.  "Serve the evil bastard right," he said, "I hope his guts are
on fire, too."

     I then produced the four dice.  "These were kept in a safe place until
your cousin could hold onto them no more.  Dr Dimbleby has one and I would
like to keep one, too."

     He contemplated the three in his hand and then took up the fourth from
the desk.  "Rammed up his arse were they?  If I'd had a hand in that they
would have been pushed in deep with the help of the thickest shovel handle
I could find!"

     "They probably were," I said, "Shem said there was a shovel lying
across his chest when they found him."

     George agreed with my scheme wholeheartedly and said he would get his
Father to provide some upkeep, or, at least his Mother would arrange it.  I
took him to the stables to see if Timmy was also happy with coming home
with me.  Robin said he was sure Mr and Mrs Bottom would take him in.  With
Jabez in London and their elder son Caleb in Torquil's troop the house was
empty and Robin was certain Mrs Bottom would take the gentle lad to her
heart.  I think what helped was that Timmy would be riding his own horse
all that way.  Jack the farrier's lad said the lad would always be welcome
if he did come back.  Robin said he was sure his young brothers would make
friends with Timmy so all was arranged.

     On Tuesday we waited impatiently after breakfast as carriages arrived
to take sons home to parents.  Other lads went to the village to await the
various stage coaches while some were excited that part of their later
journey would be by railway.  George was relieved when his father's
second-best coach arrived, even more so when the coachman handed him a
purse.  Theo said he'd gone up one notch in coaches but it had to be a
bigger coach as he had promised to take Gordon and Farquar the two Scotch
lads to Westmoreland with him, plus a couple of the Whelps to Lancaster,
with all their assorted baggage.  The Scotch pair would then try for stages
to the wind-swept and snowy wilderness known as Scotland as George had said
before being wrestled to the floor of our room and given a good Scotch
tickling.

     Rowley appeared just as the School clock struck eleven.  We plied him
with bread, cheese and a flask of good ale and explained about Timmy.  "You
won't do better, lad," was his verdict and Timmy smiled shyly at him.  We
set off before noon just as a chaise appeared and Theo gave us a happy
wave.  We rode steadily taking turns asking questions to find out what had
happened in our absence.  The news about Robin had been received and there
had been general rejoicing according to Rowley.  "I'll have to bow and
scrape to you now, no doubt," he said and as we dismounted at the first
night's inn he gave Robin a big hug and then a good swipe to his backside.
"More of both where they came from," he said as Robin hugged him in return.
There was plenty of other gossip as Mrs Rogers was 'fat as a sow ready to
farrow' and Bessie Phillips would be soon according to Rowley.  Rowley said
Rogers was certain he'd managed to climb on top but the general opinion was
it was the work of a certain visitor who had been seen skulking around
their backyard.  Robin couldn't contain himself.  He just said 'Lemuel' and
Rowley wanted to know how he knew.  Our story came out and Rowley said we'd
better watch our tongues because Rogers could be violent.

     Poor Bessie was saying she didn't know what had happened but a Devil
had appeared to her in the barn and told her he had a magic pitchfork which
would help her turn the straw as he stood behind her.  She was found
headfirst in the straw with her skirts over her head and the pitchfork
handle up her 'thing' babbling that the Devil had deceived her as he had
pushed her over and had acted the dog on her and the straw wasn't turned.
Of course, we accused Rowley of being the Devil but he said he wasn't even
in the village when it happened as he was escorting us ruffians to that
school but her father had a list of possible culprits and was waiting to
see who the child resembled, shotgun in hand!

     Rowley and Timmy shared a bed that night and Timmy was no longer shy
when they rode side by side next day and chatted.  Rowley was grinning
broadly when we stopped to have a mid-morning piss and a bite to eat.
"Never seen a black pizzle before," he commented with a wink, "And Jabez'll
be jealous I guarantee when that lad's older!"


To be continued: