Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
A Sequel
by
Joel
Seq 7:
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 Nathanial Tempest Adam's boyfriend: a church historian Raphael Pack An Aussie blond bombshell Chief Inspector Bradley Wolstenhome (Brad) A policeman with a taste for leather Inspector Dudley Woolpit (Dude) A policeman with the Met who likes leather Sergeant Carl Bachman (Carlo/Batman) A policeman who also likes leather Gwilym ap Rees First Year Organ Scholar Fiona McKenzie A Mathematical undergraduate with presence Dina Patel A second Mathematical undergraduate with prescience Jak Thomson A computer whizz Max Cartwright Another computer whizz and Jak's partner Dr Crispin Palfrey An erudite archaeologist Dr Jenny Masterton A second informed archaeologist Jonty, Danny, Terry, etc. Habitues of the Club
Lent Term 2004
Term was going on rapidly. I seemed to have little time to think, other than about mathematics. I still played the organ for my set services but Ben and Gwilym took over many of the chores in running the choir, with Gwilym giving a superb recital as part of his duty as the First Year organ scholar. Oliver triumphed in passing his LRAM and also having a short piece, Aubade, played by the University Orchestra. Very special for me, too, as I was allowed to play the little clarinet solo in it. As far as Maths was concerned Fiona and Dina spent a lot of their less than spare time with me as we valiantly went through past papers. I continued to jot thoughts down in my notebook and James took me along tortuous paths where I began to glimpse foundations and structures which gave me clues to where I could delve even further. Conversations I had with two of his PhD students convinced me that I should sign up for the Part III course, conditional on... Conditional on me doing well enough in the exams and finding enough money to survive. Luckily, when I enquired, my Local Authority had me down for a four-year course. Then, I think the visit to the Burns Night at Ulvescott was a turning point for me.
Before that the installation of the wiring for the computers began and Max and Jak were regular visitors to the College as they were supervising everything which was so up-to-date. The key words which constantly cropped up were 'fibre-optics', 'terabytes', 'parallel processing', with many others I had never heard of. It was interesting that I saw Logan and Anthony Duncan often in deep conversation with the pair. But then Jak said he and Max would drive me to Ulvescott on the Friday evening for the celebration on the Saturday and bring me back early enough on the Monday morning for the eight o'clock service.
That weekend was a revelation. The only missing member of our family was Ivo who sent his best wishes. All the males present for the dinner were kilted or in tartan trews, even the serving lads from the catering college. There were faces I knew and people I'd heard about but didn't realise were all part of the wider family. There was the ballet star, Nicholas Good. I gazed at his stately figure and that well-known face and heard of his acceptance within the family as the partner of the other famous dancer, Andrew Cameron-Thomson. Andrew's brother Peter was there as well with his heavily-pregnant wife, Laura, and there were other famous names too who led the dances later with such expertise. Before that we had the dinner. Cock-a- leekie soup; the haggis brought in, accompanied by a piper, with plenty of tatties and neeps, plus the essential gravy, a fine old malt whisky; and, finally, 'typsy laird' reeking of sherry. The Colonel had addressed the haggis to much laughter and raising of glasses. More toasts were drunk at the end and the forty or so merry revellers rested a while with coffee and lots of continuing chat. Saf's two small sons had been allowed to stay up and had sat either side of Frankie who kept them entertained with questions and quips and help from their Uncle Jak and a much amused Tris. Both the small lads had on miniature kilts and insisted they would join in the dances. Later, though, as coffee and post-prandial liqueurs were circulated, Mum nudged me and said "Over there". Over there were Frankie and Tris, sitting side by side, each with a sleeping, contented youngster on their lap. Both had contented looks on their faces as well. Frankie was smiling. His time would come, I thought.
While coffee was drunk Dad and the quartet of other players got ready and then the dancing began. I don't think I and the others could ever have laughed so much. OK, the drink had flowed freely, but seeing an eightsome reel danced by sixteen couples with Max and Safar shouting out the instructions was something unbelievable. Mum, Aunt Sophie and the other ladies were well away keeping their partners weaving in and out and by the time midnight came I think we were all exhausted. Tris, Frankie and I had been allocated Piers' room. Jak and Max were in the Horsebox so we shared the bathroom in between. It was slight chaos but we all got to bed in a happy state. Toad's last injunction was that as he was sleeping between Tris and me there would be no hanky-panky as he needed his beauty sleep. We both heartily agreed with that and Tris said he looked quite raddled and worn and it couldn't be through too much sexual intercourse, because he was deserted by Minky, but must be due to too much hands-on activity. With a signal from Tris we grabbed an arm each and lay on them while he whined and protested until we relented and he promised to behave.
I slept soundly but was well aware that we had company. Sometime during the night I had a most profound dream. I was promised all would be well. My future was assured once more, even when I might feel that things were awry. It was if I felt warm hands of blessing touching my brow. I knew all three of us were special in some way. With Jak, Saf, Max, Chrissie, the boys and all the wider family and treasured friends we were entwined in the weft and weave of some greater plan. I think I woke quite early and there seemed to be some sort of dim light suffusing the room. I looked at my sleeping companions; my hunky, most talented brother; my lusty, so-intelligent companion, Tris. The light wavered then became brighter and illuminated their sleeping faces. I closed my eyes, knowing. Knowing what? I opened them again. The light had faded and we were in darkness again. I slept with an unending kaleidoscope of images, past, present and future; I knew not, but I was secure. Then quiet sleep overtook me and I was wakened by the stealthy entry of both small boys.
"Where's Francis?" came the quiet demand. "We wanted to dance and Mummy said Francis and Uncle Tris put us to bed and we mustn't make a noise. When can we dance?"
Luckily Francis was awake, too. "We can dance today," he said, "Uncle Nicky..." meaning the ballet star, "...and Uncle Jody," ... Yes, Jody Foster another one, "...and Uncle Peter," ...there were two of them, "...and Mark'll play the piano and my Dad will play the violin and we can all dance."
The pair climbed onto the bed and slept again.
"I can't wait..." were Frankie's words, "...and I've been told as well." He dropped off.
It was Tris who finally woke and was chuckling at the laden bed. "I thought Frankie had pupped," he said as he poked me in the ribs having crawled out from his side. "Up, before they wake. And then you can make yourself decent." As the three of us had gone to bed naked this was a wise injunction. However, as we two went into the bathroom, still unclad, two other nude figures were already there, one just finishing in the shower cubicle, the other shaving. Wow, the Thomson side of the family was well-hung as well, as I could see, when Jak emerged through the steam in the shower.
He waved his hands at me. "Like Venus arising from the waves," he called out. He looked down and did a quick assessment of my attributes. "Bloody Hell! They don't come much bigger. Don't flourish that monster at Max or he'll leave me, pronto! Not saying he's a bloody size-queen but he's seen more than a few and he likes them big."
Tris, never backward in coming forward, was also sizing up, an appropriate term, the opposition. "Not too bad yourself," he said, "But nothing to match Obi Dankali in our old basketball team. Six foot eleven with dick to match. Still, estimating six foot three, you probably are in proportion. Does it still work at your age?"
"Fucking Hell," said the shaver, brandishing the razor, "Pity this isn't a cut-throat or we could have his balls on our mantelpiece. Young whippersnapper!" He turned and stared at Tris whose own lengthy dong was slightly plumped up. Max altered his expletives slightly. "Bugger me! I can soon forget that ravaged oldie over there, my bed's next door! I like them young and tender, though you look as if you've been through the mill a bit!"
"My mill," I said. "And he also grinds exceeding slow." My remembrance of the phrase from Mr Arnold's German class, 'Gottes muhlen mahlen langsam' and the quoted Herbert reference from a sermon last term, 'God's mill grinds slow, but sure' which I had sniggered at in the safety of the organ loft and wondered if it was true of Freddy Mills in the Cantori choir stall whose female squeeze was a prize alto eyeing him lovingly from the opposite Decani stall.
"Fucking poet," was the chuckled response of Jak, who playfully flicked his towel at my dick. "And, I can assure your most handsome companion it's all in good working order." He waggled his eyebrows. "We're fussy over who we share our confidences with, but there was a feeling in the night we might all be more than friends, or relations."
It was at that moment I realised that part of the melange of images was that of four friends, somewhere on holiday perhaps, sharing a great intimacy. Tris was the one to say something.
"Last night, I dreamt, we were..." he began.
"...You didn't dream," said Jak, "You were told." He looked at Max who was nodding. "Like us."
"It's this place," said Max, "First time I came here everything was sorted out." He looked at Jak. "I hoped it was him, and it was, I was told. I settled down. And look at me now." He grinned. "Happily married, in our sense of the term." He looked fondly at Jak. "I wouldn't, and I couldn't give the old bugger up for anything." He looked at us side by side now. "And it's the same for you two. I know. We were told last night, eh, Jak?"
Jak nodded and four big, healthy hunks put arms round in a huddle and stayed still while, I was sure, we all felt that blessing again. We separated. Jak pointed to the shower.
"You first," he said to me, "You just smell sweaty... But wait till you get home!"
The other two laughed and Max slapped Tris's bare bum. "Then it's your turn and make sure you get your proper share..."
Oh fuck! I thought. I would be lonesome tonight as Tris and the others would be leaving for London after lunch. Jak and Max were delivering me to Cambridge early next morning. No, I wouldn't be sharing with them tonight. If ever that was to be, then the four of us... They knew and I knew. But, I would relinquish Piers' bed to them for tonight.
Decently clad we woke the boys and their Uncle Francis. They scampered off to their parents' room before they were missed. Jeremy's parting words "We'll see the boy again soon..." I really thought Frankie was starry-eyed. He just seemed happy. Tris was ready before me and went off in search of breakfast.
Frankie stretched himself languorously as he got out of bed, not even with a semi hard- on. "Safar said last night you've beaten him. He said he's never dared take the Fellowship exam. From what I heard listening in, there's big moves going on in the College. Safar and Doctor Thomson were discussing what's likely to happen now the College has got more money. I heard Safar's brother say there's a scheme he'd involved in. He runs some finance company, doesn't he?"
Yes, I'd heard snippets of conversation. I realised Dad's position in the College was being funded by external means. I guessed through the Sheik's generosity, like the computer wiring. But, one would have to wait for official announcements. Interestingly enough, nothing had been said about the burnt notes and the Colonel's involvement. Perhaps after the others had gone. I knew that the memoirs had cropped up. The Colonel spent a lot of time chatting to Adam while Nate was whirling, kilt swinging, in yet another strathspey or spirited jig. I could see the close rapport that Adam had with the elderly man. I supposed he was so like the grandfather so cruelly taken from us by that errant Parisian taxi-driver and we had never known. Adam was another who was part of our grand tapestry. There was no doubt he had a future. And the absent Ivo. My adored cousins. I was getting very sentimental....
"...Are you switched off as usual," came the less than dulcet tones of little brother. "Tris says you live in your own world most of the time. I suppose it's only when he waves..."
I surfaced. "...No need to be coarse," I said, "You were very happy to share over Christmas." I laughed. "So much going on, as you say. I've got to think about my future. If possible, I'll stay on next year and take Part III."
Frankie looked a bit puzzled. "What's Part III?"
I explained as best I could that it was where I could specialise in particular aspects of Maths.
"Won't you know enough by the time you take your degree?"
I shrugged. "You can never know enough Maths. I want to explore things. Dr Tanner thinks I can."
"Anything useful?"
My, Toad was getting even more mercenary. "Only useful to those who can exercise their brains," I said smugly. I thought I would press it home. "I heard of a mathematician who was asked how many people in the world would read and understand his latest book and he said 'forty-five'. I'd like to be the forty-sixth." I thought that would flatten him.
"I expect you will be," he said, flattening me. "You'll do something fewer than that will understand. I know. Piers knows."
There was nothing else to say.
He went off to cleanse himself. I followed Tris downstairs remembering to do my flies up as I descended.
The morning went much too quickly. The two small boys appeared in their kilts. The dancers had been primed and were in theirs, too. Dad and I played some Scottish airs and dances from the books in the piano stool as the boys demanded Francis danced too. It was magic. I thought there might be one, if not two, new generation ballet dancers. But it was the gracefulness and sheer artistry of the grown-ups which was staggering. Just a bit of Sunday frivolity. No! It was a special occasion for the two youngsters to savour and enjoy and enjoyed also by all watching or taking part. When that ended Frankie and I were asked to play something on the organ. Frankie played two short pieces by Cesar Franck and, without thinking, I played Bach's Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring. There was something special about that piece I knew. When I finished there was a perfect silence. Then the older Doctor Thomson put his hand on my shoulder. There were tears on his cheeks. "You couldn't have known. That was Piers' favourite piece. I played it for his mother many times. Thank you." Yes, that other time for me. Those ending triplets and Tris's final G in perfect pitch. That presence. We all knew.
In fact the whole weekend went too quickly. On the way back to Cambridge I sat next to Jak who was driving. He said how happy he always was to be at Ulvescott and this particular weekend had been perfection. His grandfather, Doctor Thomson, had also said he couldn't imagine anything happier and had wondered what his mother, Ma, would have thought of her great-great-grandsons, the two small boys. He knew I had several of her books and I said I thought she was a great detective story writer. "You must meet the grandsons of her detective sometime," he said with a laugh. "Inspector Buck's alter ego was a policeman friend of the family and the Buchanan boys were at school with Granddad. You've read Uncle Tony's book. They're all in it." I nodded. A complex book but a really enthralling coming-of-age story. I would have to work out those characters, though. "It's all a bit complicated but Fergus Buchanan is one grandson and he's a Fellow at Downing. Radioastronomy. He spends his time exploring galaxies. We did some computing work for him. At least Max did the computing and I did the machine work."
The more I met people the more I realised the small world I lived in. Everyone seemed to know someone else. In fact, I knew Fergus. Vicariously, perhaps, but taking Max and Jak to the Club the next Friday, Fergus was one of the group of thirty-somethings who had their own quiet corner and watched, or 'leched' as a rude Tris said once, the younger set who tended to dance the night away. So, I then had an invite to visit the Mullard Radio Lab on the Barton Road when I had time. Talk of quasars, pulsars, supernovae and so on was quite new to me and I was twitted by one of the group, a physics teacher, because I hadn't taken the Maths courses in Cosmology and had only touched on Quantum Mechanics. But I could only say that some courses clashed and there was so much other stuff to do.
In College, time just rushed by. James Tanner had tugged out two more of my jottings. Between us we made sense of them and he sent them off. This time in joint names as I insisted I would never have got much further with getting them correctly set out and completed but didn't want to waste his time. "Not a waste of my time," he said, "My colleagues will think the old codger has woken up at long last." As I'd struggled to comprehend even the first of the three arguments in the paper he'd given me to read which he'd had published ten years previously on Lie Groups I mentally thought he deserved a bit of a sleep after that.
Anyway, Toad was busy, too. He made a lightning visit to College to sort out something with Gwilym over next year's Christmas concert. Bugger me! He hadn't even done his A levels and got the required results and here he was... Oh God! I knew he'd be OK. But, he was also concerned as he'd decided he was going to read French, like Grandad and Ivo had, and leave music as a hobby, so he took himself off to Lille and an intensive course in spoken French with Laurent and family at half-term. He also, unbeknown to me, arranged for Raphael to come and stay over Easter so Raph, Jack and Moggo could have intensive sessions together on the Economics syllabus. Moggo would get a double helping of Raph as both were doing History as well.
Raph had made some headway also. From first approaches it seemed that Hary was interested. Raph hadn't got much further than inviting the three for drinks. Denzil had declined. He had captured and captivated some piece of female flesh, as Raph put it. The small problem was Franz. Over a couple of pints of bitter Hary had confided he had to be with him almost constantly. But! Franz was going to the National Orthopaedic Hospital for corrective surgery on his spine over Easter and the specialists were hopeful. There was hope for Franz and for Raph as well. Both Oliver and I chatted to him and said he wasn't to raise his hopes too high, just be friendly and see if any hints might be dropped. For example, after the exams tell him about your job at the Club. He might suggest a visit - if not, you suggest a visit. "Bloody right on," was Raph's comment.
The first week of March I had a letter from Dr Masterton one of the archaeologists involved in the researches in the cellar. Another coincidence. They seemed to be piling up.
'Dear Mark,
Just to let you know we are progressing well with the
decipherment of all the documents found. As usual with any new
discovery time is taken up giving lectures on the findings. A couple of
weeks ago I had been asked by the Oxford Department of Archaeology
to talk on the Guthlac Psalter and the relic discovered in the cellar in
particular. In the audience was a young man who seemed quite
excited as I went into the known details of his life and work. After
the lecture he came up and I found out why he was so interested.
He goes by the name of Rudi Burlesdon - but you may recognise
him under his title - King Rudolf the Sixth of Rothenia!
Anyway, at present he is a student at the 'other place'
and as part of his initiation into the role he has taken up he is making
a special study of the history of the country. He was particularly
interested as there is a side chapel in the cathedral in Strelzen
dedicated to the Guthlakenstejne and no one seems to know its
history. From enquiries I have made it would appear that it translates
as 'Stone of St Guthlac'. Why? We do not know.
When I told him of your discovery he did come out
with a non-regal expletive and said he wanted to see both the relic
and the cellars. The relic is easy as it's on display in the Fitzwilliam.
I think you, or the College, will be getting a request! Please don't
blame me. I am but the messenger.
With all best wishes, and congrats on the Fellowship,
Jenny Masterton'
I showed the letter to Charles who said I wasn't to worry. I had charmed the Duke, what was a mere King. But then, two days later another letter arrived addressed to 'Mark Foster FRCO ARCM' from, I saw from the crest on the back, St John's Oxford. So news travels fast! But who knew me there? On opening it, all was revealed.
There was a crest at the top, not St John's but rather more ornate, with a lion rampant under an antique royal crown. The letter was handwritten in a strong, rather unruly hand and in biro! And it was straight to the point.
'My dear Mark Foster,
Dr Masterton gave us a most illuminating talk last week
and as she has most probably told you I had numerous questions to ask
her afterwards so I do not have to introduce myself further!
As I am so new at my job (grin), I am having to do a lot
of catching up. I have been fascinated by the history of my country and
His Eminence the Cardinal-Archbishop has given me a personal tour of
the cathedral in Strelzen.
There is a small side chapel which he venerates highly.
He is unsure why but says it has a special place in his devotions.
The chapel is dedicated to the Guthlakenstejne (I hope I have spelled
that correctly as although fluent I am still struggling with learning
to spell many of the words in the language). Anyway, Dr Masterton
says there is a relic in the Fitzwilliam discovered through your expertise
with codes.
She has made arrangements for me to inspect this
privately on Sunday March 14th. I wonder if it would be possible to see
the cellar where it was housed as well. She also said I would be amused
at what was found in another cellar. I have checked on that and would be
pleased to have a conducted tour, if you agree. Please do not let me
encroach on your time but I must make homage to the relic in any case.
With all best wishes
Rudi Burlesdon
P.S. Please write back to me as that! I am also told your cousin, Ivo Carr,
is at the British Legation - I haven't met him yet but I understand his wife
is giving English lessons to a couple of the children of staff in my entourage
in Strelzen.'
Charles had to be consulted again. A letter back from me invited Rudi to visit the cellars in the morning and then have lunch before proceeding to the Fitzwilliam in the afternoon. The Master said he didn't want to be involved. "A student is a student" was his cheerful riposte to my question when I took the letter to show him. Yes, I suppose so as Prince Charlie had been at Trinity with little fuss. But, our own dear Charles had a plan. A visit to the three cellars with me, Crispin Palfrey and Jenny Masterton as guides with Damien, Alistair and Nate as restorers and painters. Toad tried to insist he should be in the central cellar to give a signed postcard as the main portrayed participant. Charles would have none of this and, like Tris, was able to control my brother's exuberance with ease. He was mollified as the plan was that after the underground visit Rudi and entourage would come to my set where as many of the portrayed would be present in position as in the murals. "But not in a state of undress..." was Charles' admonition.
So the fateful day arrived. At eleven-thirty I was with Charles and a neatly attired Jason at the main gate. A nondescript car disgorged a tall, and frankly gorgeous, red-haired young man in general student gear of sweater, tee-shirt, dark chinos and trainers. Not to worry, I had on the same gear but it was Matteoli brand and not... I forbore to comment on the particular range on display! His companions were also dressed alike as typical students. One was a bit older and I saw him looking intently around and I was sure he had a bulge under the loose jacket he was wearing. Charles was, as usual, immaculate. A dark jacket today, but tailored to perfection, with tight black trousers and pointed black shoes of some mid-Eastern design. I stepped forward and introduced myself. All was if we all had known each other for ages. The other student with him was someone on his stair and the slightly older man was his bodyguard. Otherwise quite informal.
I led the way down the stairs and introduced the two archaeologists. Rudi kissed Jenny's hand and thanked her for arranging the visit. I melted into the background after showing the screen with the code and solution and Damien was introduced as the painter of the murals in this and the third cellar. The other student was a History buff and asked very pertinent questions and Rudi listened intently and looked specially at the depiction of St Guthlac on the wall. Then came the second cellar. I don't know how much priming he'd had on what to expect. Nate was on hand to explain about the originals and Charles said about the naughty lads. Alistair pointed out that the faces were of current students and others. Rudi nearly collapsed with laughter when I said that the seated figure had the combined features of my two cousins and one was Ivo Carr. He said he would make sure he met him as soon as possible. I then said the young lad was my brother. I'm certain the student king mouthed 'Well-hung!' to his companions.
I did say to the pistol-packing bodyguard that he would be meeting the satyrs later and he looked rather puzzled but we were being led into the smaller third cellar by Crispin Palfrey. Here was the replica of the hand of St Guthlac. Rudi crossed himself as he saw it. "It may be a replica," he said, "And I shall see the real thing later, but it is so holy to me. I felt very blessed when standing in that tiny side chapel with the Archbishop. There is a power there." Jenny then told him about St Guthlac's Psalter in the British Museum and he said he was going there very soon to see it.
As we filed back through he grinned again at the mural of my brother and the Twins. As we reached the main entrance I said I would be very honoured if he came to my set before lunch for a pre-prandial drink. He laughed and said he mustn't get p...., he changed that rapidly to 'drunk' and said 'Lead on'.
I suppose a King can be gobsmacked, flabbergasted, or whatever, but the look on his face as I led him through the doors of my set was a real picture. There arrayed in strict sequence of all depicted, in main pictures, friezes and that central tondo, from Messrs Boxx and Cox as end pieces with oar and ball, Charles hurriedly in place, Tris, Gabe, Josh, Oliver, the lads from the Club, Jonty, Danny, Raph and so on, with Frankie and Adam in the centre, finally flanked by the three uniformed satyrs, Chief Detective Inspector, Inspector and Sergeant! All with a glass filled with a sample of Mother's favourite nectar! Toad was not to be outdone. He was there and provided each of the three guests with a selection of postcards, Rudi's in a tasteful red binder bearing the St Mark's crest. Curt and Sean stepped out of the picture, as it were, and gave glasses of the bubbling nectar to Rudi, me and his companions and to the researchers and artists who followed us. Adam stepped forward. "A toast!"
It was a talk-fest after that. Everyone was chatting to everyone else. All the lads were introduced. Dude, of course, knew the bodyguard, so there was much merriment in that quarter. After a while, Charles clapped his hands. It had been arranged that I should ask Rudi to open the secret door. No, I did not say, 'Pull the knob'. I explained how Danny had given me a clue. Danny, beautifully arrayed in Matteoli gear and with no visible eye-liner, bowed and I said 'Pull the Gambe' as hands pointed to each of the stop-knobs in turn. They had been well-rehearsed.
Tris explained about the photo lab and the finding of the body and then reiterated about the solving of the code. Charles had the abbatial ring found in the other excavation. Rudi looked at it intently. "There is one exactly the same, I'm sure, in the cathedral treasury. Is there a photo of it? If there is I must send it to the Archbishop." There was. Extra postcards were on the piano and among them were two of the ring.
After that we all filed to the new dining-room where Cheffie excelled himself. Nothing too fancy, but the main course was carved from ribs of beef with all the veggies and perfect gravy. We all mentally smacked our lips as the final helpings of pud were finished. As we parted Rudi shook hands with everyone. He said he was getting used to it but usually the occasions were a bit more stuffy than today. He said we should try to visit Rothenia. I got a really hearty handshake and he looked at Frankie and winked. 'Well-hung!' I'll have to hold that comment in reserve.
Two letters followed in the next week or so. The first, one I would treasure, was from Rudi himself, thanking me for the visit and for discovering the relic. He said he was very moved when the hand was uncovered at the Fitzwilliam. I knew this as Jenny Masterton had come back later that afternoon to thank us and reported all were transfixed for some moments as the hand seemed to have an eerie glow which they had thought was because of the bright lights around the glass case. She wasn't so sure and she said the king had a look of rapture on his face. The second was from the Archbishop's secretary in Strelzen. This also thanked me for my discovery and also confirmed the two rings seemed to be identical. A comparison of the pair was likely to take place as permission was being sought to take Charles' find to Strelzen at some time.
Charles was almost floating on air as he had had the same letter, too. "My dears, a visit must be planned!" But I had other things to think of including the fact that the bodyguard had quietly told Brad that Mr X had been found floating in the Elbe two days previously.
After all that excitement end of term came and I returned home laden with books, folders, notes, and with Raph similarly laden. I was determined to work steadily and I had plenty to do. One excitement was that Dad would be making his debut as leader of the WBO. Performances of the St Matthew Passion were scheduled for Good Friday and Easter Saturday - in Manchester. No, he did not want either of his sons to witness his nervousness. Mum was going to metaphorically hold his hand and Uncle Nick and Auntie Dil would be there, too, to bolster his confidence. Dear Shelley was off with Camilla to take part in some gymkhana weekend and we four boys could get on with revision and eat whatever was in the freezers! How trusting parents can be!
We waved them off on Maundy Thursday morning as there were rehearsals in the afternoon and evening and quietly got on with our own concerns. As far as I knew, quite innocent and academic, as in my case! Then, on Good Friday afternoon there was a minor earthquake. Figuratively speaking, that is. I was in my bedroom looking at a question on the previous year's Analysis paper when Toad burst in unannounced.
"Pugsy's here," he more or less shouted, "His Dad's told him now he's eighteen he could do as he likes, he's not giving him anything else!"
"What?" I knew Pugsy and his father did not get on.
"We've got to do something or he can't go to Cambridge!"
"What?" I said again.
"Don't keep saying fucking 'What' come down and talk to him!"
To be continued: