Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
A Sequel
by
Joel
Seq 19:
Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mark Henry Foster The story-teller: Newly graduated. Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend. Francis Michael Foster Alias Toad/Gobbo Mark's younger brother Shelley Price-Williams Tris's sister Adam Benjamin Carr Mark's cousin: newly appointed History Fellow Ivo Richie Carr Ditto, as his twin, safely married diplomat Sophia Carr Their mother in Dorset George Carr Their father: A farmer Victoria ['Tory] Carr Ivo's wife and heavily pregnant Sir Henry Machin 'Tory's father, something in the City Lady Mary Machin 'Tory's mother Ignasz Zendener The hotel manager in Strelzen Tomas, Igor, Frantischek; Receptionists and students Aloys zum Adamszberh Rector of the Rodolfer University Jerzy zum Adamszberh His son, studying at Cambridge Tadeuz Galenosz A botanist, also at Cambridge Herr Diesselhorst A shifty Minister of the Interior Father Artur [Dr Wendel] The Cardinal's secretary Dr Claude Valentin Organist of the Cathedral of St Vitali Andrei zu Glottenberh Rothenian Army Officer [Special Services] Lucasz Voynovich Rothenian Army Officer [Signals Division] David Vinodosj Taxi driver: Probably secret police
Monday afternoon and later:
The Spa wasn't so crowded as it had been on Saturday but there was quite a bustle of activity in the pool as a gaggle of lads, probably the late teens from the Gymno, were racing up and down the lanes. We, very demurely, flopped about in the shallow end; flopped being the operative word as the freedom of no swimsuit gave one a complete sense of liberation I'd never experienced before in a pool. Even at Unc's, although we sunbathed nude on the upper terrace, there was the rule of 'trunks on' when swimming.
We were leaning against the end wall quietly discussing what we'd heard from Ivo. Tris was quite adamant. "We mustn't take anyone or anything here for granted. The bugger with a hole in his foot and your pencil case up his arse is only a pawn on one strand. The errant copper looks like another branch and even Ivo is wary of Andrei and his pal. Do we trust them or the Adjutant and David? Or all four? And one person I definitely do not trust is sleazeball himself, that Minister for the Interior. The only interior he's interested in is probably the inside of his wallet."
I nodded. "Who else have we met? I don't think the academics or musicians are on the make. Father Artur seems to know more than he lets on. He must get lots of information as the Cardinal's secretary and there's always the secrets of the confessional."
"I think I would trust him," said Tris, "And I would go for the Adjutant and David as well. David seemed genuinely shocked when he saw that photo of the bent copper and Ivo's had a lot of dealings with the Adjutant and I would guess he's been vetted. But, even Ivo has a slight doubt about the aristocratic bunch."
"We're seeing Jerzy and Tad tomorrow," I said, "There's no harm in innocently asking about recent history. Jerzy seems a very open sort and he would, no doubt, have heard anything detrimental to the present monarchy. Tad would be the same, I'm sure. They'll have seen the photos in the papers I expect so we can ask them about your favourite smarmy dumpling!" The Minister's paunch had been tightly held in as he'd smiled unctuously at the camera.
"So we must just wonder who's listening in to Fraser and Brett sticking it to each other and to Igor!" he said and waved. He'd spotted young Yniold who was looking most bright and cheerful.
He slipped into the pool beside Tris. "May I join you?" Ever the polite young man. "Have you swimm... No,..." He raised a finger. "... it is unregelmassig!.. ...Have you swum?" We shook our heads and I pointed to the churning figures in five of the lanes. "Yes, students from the Gymno. But first, you are very famous. My father showed me the newspapers this morning and you were at that exhibition and then at the opera with the Minister. I saw I was there as well." We were nodding. "You have seen the pictures? Good! This morning I saw there is a boy taking, I think you say, posters, to the notice boards. I saw one and it says you are with Anton Watzel at the organ of St Vitali. Wednesday at seven." He held up a hand. "We will all be there, Mutti, Papa, Isolde, Ingo her boyfriend and me."
"So there will be at least six there as Tris says he will go as well," I said, "And I still have to practice."
I hoped a little English irony wouldn't be lost on him.
"No," he said, "We will sit not together so you think there is more! Good, Huh!"
Tris did something I'd wanted to do. He hugged the lovely nude boy to his own naked side. "Clever lad! I'll sit behind you and make sure you don't go to sleep." The nude lad did not attempt to wriggle away but Tris let him go.
Yniold turned to him. "I tell you that rude boy he was at church yesterday and apologised to me but he is not here today. He works."
Before I could say he'd been working up to a climax with Tris stroking him as well, there was a commotion at the deep end of the pool. We got out to have a look but Tris said it was just some kids larking about. He guided me to the attendant looking after our 'handbag' and towels rather quickly and Yniold had to hurry to keep up with us.
"We'll have coffee at the kiosk near the trees," Tris said, "There's plenty of open space just beyond there to stretch out."
I realised the hurry as I glanced back as we left the pool building. The lads had been dunking the 'hairy man' and he was shouting at them and waving his arms about. I just saw the final act as one of the boys barged into the backs of his knees and there was another loud splash and a screech. I guessed he'd received a blow to the balls as well as the torrent of Rothenian sounded anything but polite and there was laughter from the lads.
Yniold must have been aware that someone was being dealt with unceremoniously but was unconcerned.
"I think that was a stupid man who asked a boy for something. My friends say they punish them always." He made a fist upwards movement.
Well, that would keep him from following us for a while, but we hadn't spotted him on our way up to the Spa. Unless he was lying in wait.
Anyway, we ignored the possibility that he would still be snooping around us and had a very pleasant afternoon. There was little chat. Yniold was just as happy as us in consolidating his tan. We did have a fruit juice and laughed as we each had to go for a pee in the open ironwork urinal. While I was there three lads had a 'how high' contest and one managed to splash the others and raced off with the other two chasing him. He was caught by two others of the group and held down and tickled by all four, screeching at the same time, until an official - naked save for an armband - waved a finger at them. All rather entertaining and not what one would have seen on Brighton beach at home! Especially the five hardons as the lads stood and were reprimanded - for being noisy, according to Yniold's translation. Yes, Rothenian lads were hunky and well-hung!
All too soon it was four o'clock and time to go back to the hotel to get ready for the practice session. Frantishek was just finishing a long day's stint and leaving as we got to the front door. He greeted us like old friends - well with a shy smile and then a grin as Tris smiled at him. He also greeted Yniold warmly and, speaking in English, said he'd heard from a friend on the basketball team that Pyotor had scored more points than anybody else.
"I will walk with you home, Franzi," said Yniold, "I will just say good afternoon to Mark and Tristan." He turned to us. "Thank you for your company, I have enjoyed being with you. I hope I have not been a nuisance."
We shook hands very correctly, then I stuck a paw out to 'Franzi' whose smile was radiant. Tris grabbed his hand next and gave him a real bone-crusher. Tris then naughtily screwed up his eyes, pursed his lips and just about blew him a kiss, luckily so Yniold didn't see. I guessed a boy that night would relive such a moment with some very powerful results. "I will be here in the morning," he just managed to say.
'With big black rings under your eyes, darling,' I thought, 'and a palsied right arm if I'm not much mistaken!'
Concentrating on that little drama I was missing what Yniold was saying. I turned to him and caught up with "...I must talk to Pyotor on his handy this evening to congratulate him. He is such a good player."
Tris had finished with Franzi who turned his gaze on me. "Thank you," he said and bedroom eyes weren't in it. 'Fuck me rigid' was the look. Keep off, Tris, I thought. It's a good job we're on the second floor or that boy would be clambering though a window. He was one sexually charged little bundle and he was walking home with Yniold. Watch it, Pyotor, you might be having sloppy seconds!!
No, it was OK. Yniold was in charge. "Let us go and you can tell me about the basketball." Off they went, not quite hand in hand but chattering in Rothenian, with much gesticulation on the part of Frantishek who was reliving the description of the game he had heard about.
There were two more new guests in the lobby. Obviously French and quite elderly. Tomas was hovering, ready to take their bags upstairs. I hoped his 'shits' were better. My French was fairly rudimentary but they were repeatedly asking whether the room had 'deux lits', 'en-suite' et 'un fauteuil pour madame' and Ignasz was patience itself, 'oui, monsieur', 'oui, madame'.
"How do you do it, Tris?" I said when we got to our room and flopped onto our beds, "That boy's masturbatory fantasies this evening will be centred on you and if Yniold gets raped in a dark alley on the way home it'll be you to blame!"
Tris laughed. "I don't think Yniold is in danger. If anything, I think Franzi might be a more than willing partner in any little escapade. Franzi's got the hots for Yniold. You didn't see me nod my head towards Yniold while I was holding his warm little hand and that smile was the response to that."
"All I saw was you blowing kisses. He just about shot a load for at least the third time in your presence."
"I will admit I noticed a pubic movement at the time." He reached out and tapped my arm. "I was just checking that I could still cause erections in more than one desirable male."
"Pah," I said, "And what gives you that idea even with me. I might be having images of Pugsy, or Oliver, or Logan..."
I got no further. He rolled over the small gap between the beds and proved his thesis. Twelve minutes later two completely stripped off lads tried unsuccessfully to share the shower cubicle to remove the dampness and debris of a quick 'Herrengasse'.
I was almost dressed when my mobile chirruped. A text message from Ivo. 'Two mums arrived. Six tomorrow food here'. I texted back 'Ta will starve until then'. This slight extra interruption meant two lads had to hurry to finish dressing ready to catch a tram up towards the Cathedral square.
Dr Valentin was sitting just inside the side porch. His wrist was bandaged and he was flexing his fingers while talking to Anton who was standing looking out. Anton seemed relieved when he saw us. "Good evening, gentlemen," said Dr Valentin as we hove into view, "Anton and I have been discussing the order of the recital. Perhaps you would start with the Voluntary. It is not known here and I think it will tempt everyone. Anton can then play two pieces, one by a friend who has just finished in the composition class here." He smiled up at me. "I have not asked but would you play the Alain next for us. I studied with his sister for a while." Wow! Perhaps he could tell me how to play it better. "Anton wants to play some Buxtehude we have been studying, a Canzona and then a Prelude and Fugue. The Wesley, again unknown here although I am fond of it. Anton thinks the Mozart Fantasy in f minor would be good after that and you will finish with the Rheinberger. It should be just over the hour we have been given."
As he finished speaking so a few people filed out of the interior. He acknowledged most with the usual bow of the head.
"Good, evening prayers have finished, we can go in."
Anton led the way and we followed into the dark interior out of the sun. There seemed to be a great feeling of serenity as we filed along to the doorway leading up to the organ loft. Anton flipped a switch and a brighter light illuminated the worn stairway.
"Father Franz-Josep insisted," said Anton pointing to a bulb.
"Only because I might have broken my neck," said Dr Valentin good-humouredly. "The Father keeps a hand on the money but as I am cheaper because of the Rodolfer post I hold he pays two euros for new bulbs. I tell you, Anton, watch your step!"
Once in the loft I asked if I might look through my pieces while Anton played. I knew the Greene off by heart and really didn't need to worry about the Alain or the Wesley as both would be under my fingers. I needed to be confident about the pedal board and that's what I needed practice on.
Tris watched for a while as Dr Valentin registered for Anton and actually pulled two of the stops needed for the new piece. That was quite a tour de force. Very modern, very spiky, with cross rhythms and chromatic runs and chords. Anton was a very deft performer. I envied his finger work in some of the very black passages in that particular piece. I heard Dr Valentin giving him encouragement. Then came the Buxtehude. Quite different. Again, a most competent performance with the organ sounding just right for that baroque piece. When he finished Dr Valentin pointed out two passages to be thought about. He turned to me.
"Mark, the rest of this evening is for you."
Anton smiled. "I will be here at six in the morning to practise."
I did my very best to play as well as Anton. It was amazing. The organ seemed to respond to all I wanted. Dr Valentin and Anton registered and I had only to think about playing. I played the Greene Voluntary first. Then repeated it as Dr Valentin wanted to hear a different registration. He was nodding as I finished. "Like that!" he said. "Please, the Alain."
My almost favourite piece sounded so different. My fingers and feet played the notes but the organ expanded all my thoughts and feelings. Those little melodies, the curlicues and the haunting passages were magnified as it were into something so glorious that when I reached that so quiet ending on a single stop on the Echo the shimmering luminance of it was almost too much to let go. I sat transfixed. Let me play it like that on Wednesday, I thought. I turned to look at the three silent figures who were now behind me. Dr Valentin was standing with his fingers interlocked and pressed against his lips. He reminded me of James Tanner. He unlocked his fingers and looked over my shoulder at the music on the desk. Anton leaned towards me and held my right arm.
"That was so good," he whispered.
"There is little for me to say," said Dr Valentin very quietly. "Just phrasing. Let us leave it. Perhaps tomorrow."
That piece gave me such confidence that when I came to the opening of the Rheinberger I was ready. Dr Valentin gave me a running commentary lesson and my eyes were opened to new ways of thinking about a piece of romantic genre music. Even my feet obeyed all my commands even though I had to make certain I felt for the correct pedal many times.
Seven o'clock came all too soon, but we still had to eat. Tris had disappeared. When the three of us went down the now well-lighted stairs he was at the bottom smiling broadly in the company of Father Artur. .
"The sound down here is glorious," he said, "You've had quite an audience already and I think they'll all be coming on Wednesday."
"That is true," said Father Artur, "Even old Gregor Moskovski our Sacristan was singing in that piece I have not heard before." He hummed the opening of the fugal part of the Greene Voluntary.
"Artur," said Dr Valentin, "I do not know why you became a priest when you have such a fine voice." He turned to us. "You should hear him when we have a college feast and the wine is plentiful!"
Father Artur snorted. "Claude! Stop it. Just because we Rothenians know how to enjoy ourselves! If there is a sin of pride I am proud of being chosen to be a priest! Anyway, take the boys as Marie-Josette will be waiting to give them a real French treat." He said something in Rothenian to Dr Valentin who nodded and smiled. He turned to me, "There is an hour tomorrow from four o'clock if you like. Claude will be here as there is a Chapter meeting at two." He turned to him. "And don't forget or Franz-Josep will switch off your blower." The usual shaking of hands took place. "I will see you tomorrow at ten," he said and strode off his cassock swirling around him.
We followed Dr Valentin out into the sunlight again. It was still hot but he led us along a side path shaded by pollarded trees. I walked by his side while Tris and Anton walked behind.
"I have a house by the Cathedral," he said, "It was a house for a canon many years ago but it has been made comfortable. Why a canon needed three bedrooms I do not know, but you can guess! I think he had aunts!"
We stopped at a door at the front of a substantial-looking stone building. Dr Valentin waved his hand at the structure.
"Not all mine," he explained, laughing, "The accountant, the choirmaster, the head verger, we all have part." He winked at us. "No priests around here." He turned and pointed at the next building. "We call their house the Hilton! Five star and two Michelin stars for the cooking!"
Without him realising the front door behind him had been opened and Madame Valentin was standing there.
"And how many stars here?" she asked
He was unfazed. "My dear, you have met all the boys before and they are starving and ready for your four Michelin star menu..."
She beckoned us in and each of us got a Gallic triple kiss. "Take no notice of him," she said, "And how was it?" She asked me.
I said it was perfect and I hoped I could do even better on Wednesday.
She nodded. "Claude says if the organ likes you it sounds quite different. What do you say, Anton?"
Anton had been remarkably silent most of the time. He seemed a little overawed by everything. He was an excellent player but otherwise seemed rather withdrawn. However, it was clear he was well-liked by Madame Valentin and he thawed as the evening progressed. And what a meal! At least six courses served with style and great expertise by none other than the waitress from the little restaurant. It turned out Madame was teaching her the fine art of French cooking as she wanted to open her own restaurant and needed to be able to deal with temperamental chefs as Dr Valentin said, with the usual twinkle. It turned out that both their sons, in their twenties, worked as trainee chefs in Paris and would like to join in Jelka's enterprise once it was planned and ready.
I felt very well fed, but not bloated, when the meal was over and a superb brandy was produced. "This is local," explained Dr Valentin, "A small distillery set up when the Communists went. This is from their second year so it is now quite mature."
I said one of the things we had to do while here was to source herbs and plants for the College liqueur. I explained about Jerzy and Tad and he nodded.
"The Botanic Garden here is very famous. There is a fine statue of King Heinrich in the front so you will know where to go. He founded it sometime around 1820, I think. I visit often. My father was a wine grower and my brother still has the vineyard. In Burgundy. Good claret! The wine we had this evening. I must not boast, but that was my brother's. I am sure they will help you with any enquiries you make."
It certainly was good even with my limited knowledge. And I had another thought. Where did the brandy for the liqueur usually come from? I would have to phone James Tanner and ask.
It was nearly eleven when I looked at my watch. I wondered what time the trams stopped running? No problem. We were still chatting with Anton, now quite relaxed, telling us about his Easter tour of organs in South Germany when the doorbell rang.
"When you are ready, your taxi is here," Dr Valentin said with his usual grin.
Of course, who should come in then, but David. "I was just going off duty," he said, "Hi Anton, I have brother Philip riding shotgun tonight, just taking him home! Thought you might like a lift."
It turned out Anton's brother was an IT specialist with the whatever section of police David, the Adjutant and his sidekick were in. A final flurry of Gallic kisses and much thanks from us drew the evening to a close. Philip was a larger and older version of Anton and the way David called him 'my favourite nerd' we wondered if this was another partnership. We dropped the pair in a leafy avenue off Domstrasse and said we would see Anton next day in the afternoon.
At the hotel we sat in the car while David said to always phone the Adjutant if anything worried us and he thought 'our friend' would be giving the Spa a wide berth as he had bruises from the encounter with the lads and they had threatened him with more if he accosted them again. "He's not like that," said David with a grin, "It's just he's not very intelligent and is so used to acting under orders he hasn't realised that talking to naked boys might give them the wrong idea."
"Do you go to the Spa?" Tris asked as if butter wouldn't melt...
"I only talk to big boys there. Got to have something worth talking about! I hear some of the English..." He laughed and held thumb and first finger about two inches apart and, as Tris moved towards him from the back seat, rapidly changed and held his two forefingers at least seven inches apart.
"Good," said Tris, "I might talk to you sometime as long as you have plenty to talk about."
David laughed. "That is good. I must tell Philip."
Oh, cats out of bags?
I decided there and then to say about Andrei and his friend. I really had the feeling they were honest and true even though we'd had our doubts. I felt in my pocket and held the keys as I said about Andrei and that his friend Lucasz Voynovich was an Army Officer in the Signals Division. Any qualms vanished. David smiled.
"I can tell you. We have already asked him to help. The Adjutant and his Commanding Officer were at Training School together so all is OK." He nodded. "You had fears, eh?" Both Tris and I nodded. "I know them well. Andrei and I were at school together. We were friends." The ways he emphasized 'friends' meant a lot. "Also, his grandmother and my grandmother are related. Do not worry."
"You knew we were apprehensive?" I asked and let the keys slip from my fingers.
"I think you would have said earlier about Lucasz. You are very careful." He laughed. "You are like your cousin. He has not been here long but he is trusted and, as you say, there are no flies on him! You would be good Rothenians." He pointed at Tris. "And him!"
He was still laughing as we said goodnight and he drove off. I looked at Tris. We smiled. We were both relieved.
In the lobby Tomas was pacing up and down and rearranging brochures. He was not pleased.
"Igor is not here." He looked at his watch. "He is with those English. At that club! They will be ill." He pointed at his crotch. "There is much ill there. Dirty men. They get naughty and get ill." He mimed giving an injection. "Some boys at Gymno have shots. Sell their..." He pointed at a calendar hanging beside the reception desk where be-jeaned buttocks of several grinning lads were advertising some latest local fashion for trendy teens. Not quite Matteoli, though! "Plenty boy there..." He made jabbing movements with his outstretched forefinger. "Then doctor. I know. Three boys in Technik class with me, I know. Money, yes," he shook his head, "Not good. Need clean boy, then yes! Not dirty man!"
Ho! So Tomas was agreeable that clean boys could do the dirty but he was really worried about Igor and whether he would be leading Brett and Fraser into temptation.
"I don't think the two English boys will do anything. They are sensible," I said, "They will make sure nothing happens to Igor, either."
"I hope," said Tomas, "But I must wait until they arrive."
Tris also said he was not to worry and was he better? He did stop pacing.
"Thank you, I am well now. Not do run in and out all time. Good pills. My mother glad as well. She thinks her medicine was good." He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I think she has wrong herb. Make go not stop!"
Not wanting to hear more about his bowels we said a quick goodnight and scooted up the stairs.
Tris joined me on my bed and we had our usual review of the day. First we just agreed that we should have no misgivings about the two groups we had met, the military and the 'secret service'. I held out the key-ring. "These were the key!" I said and dodged the fist which he aimed at my upper arm.
"I guessed you had a good reason to urge you to say what you did," he said and the fist changed to a hand and his arm snaked round my shoulders and drew me towards him. "I think we have all the goodies on our side whatever happens."
He held me close and said again how well the organ sounded in the Cathedral. But there was more.
"I had a wander around and I think I found the St Guthlac's Chapel. There are a number of side chapels and nearly all were open fronted but there was one with a locked door and I think that is the one. There was no one about to ask and I couldn't see any leaflets. I think they had all been cleared up for the night. We'll ask Father Artur tomorrow but it's funny he hasn't offered to show us the chapel so far."
"Perhaps he doesn't have a key, but Ivo said he and 'Tory had been in it so perhaps it's only open at certain times," I said, "The whole business seems all so strange. We'll just have to wait."
The waiting time was reduced considerably as the pair of us were then lost in a quiet quest for ultimate satisfaction. "I hope Franzi's self-administered actions tonight will have been as pleasurable as all this," I whispered in Tris's ear as we nuzzled each other while getting our breath back.
"His pleasure could never equate with ours," Tris said quietly and firmly and we fell asleep entwined on my single bed.
Tuesday
Sometime in the night he must have roused himself because when I woke in the morning I was alone. I got up and showered and shaved and Tris was still sleeping in his own bed.
"Up! Up!" I said and poked him in the back.
"Already awake," he said as he rolled over.
"Trust me to get up first and let you have a lie-in," I said giving him a quick morning kiss. "Why creep out in the middle of the night?"
He laughed. "You fell asleep straight away and I didn't want to sleep on the wet patch!"
Cheek! There was no wet patch. All had been mopped. I just ignored it! I will repay saith the Lord! Just at that moment my mobile gave the text message sound. A message from Yniold? I called it up. 'Ambulance just gone'. Wow! We assumed 'Tory was on her way to the hospital. No use phoning as we guessed Ivo and the Mums would be in tow. Sit back and wait! Breakfast called, in case we had to starve!
We were just about to tackle the hot croissants at breakfast in the caf‚, having been greeted with a really warm smile by the waitress, when Fraser and Brett came bowling in also with big smiles. They ordered a full cooked breakfast at five euros each.
As they settled back to wait Brett must have seen us looking a bit puzzled. A full cooked breakfast was not consistent with drawing in one's horns.
He looked around as if to see if there were others near enough to listen in. Satisfied there weren't he leaned over towards us. "Gotta tell you this. We're hiring a car so we can go up to this place tomorrow about the bloody gingkos."
"Thought you were almost broke," said Tris.
Brett looked at Fraser who was also bursting to tell something and nodded at him. "If we tell you it's between us, eh?" said Fraser.
We both nodded in unison. What the hell. Tomas had said they were going to the gay club with Igor. Had they danced naked on the bar and had five euro notes tucked in their foreskins in payment for their performance?
Brett was the one with the greater itch to tell us. "You know we were going to the Botanic Garden?" Again a nod in unison. "They told us where to go for the plants and that it would take ages by bus. We told you we were going to take Igor for lunch?" More nods. "Well we told him about going and not having enough money to hire a car and he said we could earn it."
Two pairs of eyes almost popped out of heads as two listeners cycled through various scenarios for two hunky lads 'earning money'. Pole-dancing? Giving head to the pianist? Musical mast...
"...I'll tell the rest," said Fraser, interrupting my silent imagery. "It's OK, it was all legal. He took us to a studio and they photographed us..." He faltered. His courage left him.
"Oh, come on, Fido, I'll tell them," said Brett. "Igor said they paid well for photos where boys undress. He said with three of us it would be more. So, what the hell, we'd been to the Spa and we're not exactly lacking." True, it had been noted that 'Yoggers Stags' were a good advert for hunky British lads in all departments and well up to Rothenian standards. There were more nods of agreement and encouragement from us. "Anyway, they got us to sign some sort of contract and we were told as soon as we went through into the photographic studio we should start to undress...."
Fraser's slight timidity had gone. "...They said it would be better if we helped each other," he continued and laughed. "We both helped Igor and we had him almost stripped when he was told to get our kit off."
It was a duologue as Brett took over for the next installment. "There were three guys with cameras taking the photos and it was funny, we never gave it a thought. Never been undressed by anyone before..."
"...Except your Mum," said Fraser and Brett raised two fingers.
We then had to wait while their plates piled with ham, eggs, sausages, hash browns, mushrooms and tomatoes were placed in front of them. In between mouthfuls the rest of the tale unfolded.
Fraser was first. "It was a bit arousing. It fact, very arousing and the camera blokes were doing all sorts of shots and we got a bit carried away."
"A bit carried away! You should have seen him," said Brett waving his fork at Fraser.
"Go on, it was so artificial we just didn't care," said Fraser. He lowered his voice. "That bloody Igor caught hold of me first and before I knew it I'd shot a load all over that bugger there and, before we could say anything, Igor was jacking him off. Not that it bothered him, he and that Jimmy Durrant had been whacking each other off since their hairs sprouted...."
"...Shh," said Brett, "And what about you and Micky Goodwin. Had rulers marked off as well and going neck and neck until he moved and you had to use your own right hand and worried if your dick was smaller that Whopper O'Ryan's."
"And was it?" asked Tris, interrupting the flow. Bastard!
"'Cause it was!" said Brett, "Not called Whopper for nowt."
"And what happened next?" I asked, almost plaintively, hoping to get the story going again.
Fraser rolled his eyes heavenwards ignoring the sizeist jibe. "I got the full force and the blokes were up close and I had to twist and turn to show off what he'd done while they went click, click, click! Bloody fantastic!"
"His efforts or theirs?" Tris was at it again.
"Both," said Brett quite proudly, "Don't mind saying, but I do fire a good amount."
"Stop boasting, cretin!" said Fraser laughing.
"Must be all that protein," said Tris pointing to the rapidly disappearing mound of food.
He was ignored other than a wrinkling of Fraser's nose. "What happened next was quite spontaneous. I never thought about it and I don't think he did either, but we both went for Igor's cock and the sods went mad." His shoulders heaved and Brett also burst out laughing which drew the attention of several others in the caf‚ who I hope were far enough away not to hear why there was so much hilarity.
"Bloody click, click, click, and getting right up close....." Brett had to stop as tears were running down his cheeks.
Fraser was giggling almost uncontrollably, too, but managed to continue. "...Fucking Igor only sprayed all over the lenses of two of the cameras," he whispered across the table, "They were effing and blinding, I suppose in their language, and were trying to clean the lenses but the third bloke was laughing 'cause he'd got the lot."
"Yeah," said Brett who had calmed down, "We hadn't realised but his was a cine camera and he played the last five minutes back to us on his lap top after. Said the bit where he'd got him spunking all over the lenses would be worth a mint."
"And the car?" Tris asked, cleverly not asking how much they were paid. It brought the desired information.
"Car's OK," said Brett, "Five hundred euros each in our hands and if we go in before we fly off there might be more."
"Bloody hell!" said Fraser forking up a huge slice of ham, "Who'da thought you could get paid so much for something you usually do yourself for free!"
Interesting. We'd heard Igor always seemed to have money. Was he a 'wank for cash' model? Or, did he get paid for 'enticing' others to wank sessions? And the two lads were quite blase about the whole incident. Still, five hundred euros for blowing a load and the undressing beforehand sounded easy money. But....
"Did they say where the photos would be published?" I asked.
Brett looked at Fraser. "Never asked," Fraser said, "There were plenty of just head and shoulders on display in the office."
"Not worried if they appear on the Net?" Tris asked.
"Hadn't thought about that," said Brett. He paused, then shook his head. "I'm not particularly worried. What about you, Fido?"
"I don't know. It all happened rather quick. Especially the last bit. Never gave it a thought." He shrugged his shoulders. "Someone would have to know us well to spot who we were. Bugger it! Five hundred euros is five hundred euros and I don't think my Granny is likely to see me firing my wad!"
Minds boggled!
They wanted to know why we were so smartly dressed. We told them we were visiting the Palace Archive to see if we could locate where a friend's family came from and we thought we had better be presentable. We said nothing about our proposed trip to the Botanic Garden. They said they would be booking the car this morning and then have a drive and a snoop around the local area and spend the afternoon at the Spa sunning themselves. "Might see Igor there," said Brett with a wink as we got up to leave, "He's taking us out for dinner this evening! Plenty cash!" He made the general Continental thumb and two fingers gesture of 'money'. I should think so! Five hundred euros!
We strolled in a very leisurely fashion weaving in and out of the various roads and passageways up towards the Palace. I knew Tris was keeping an eye out for any followers. At one point I did note a couple of workmen who seemed to have nothing to do except stand and chat and look up and down the main road next to the Rodolferplaz. It was just on five to ten when we reached the large wooden door with 'Tabularium' carved in the stonework above it. We pulled the handle on a rod which had in Rothenian, German and English 'Pull'. A young man opened the door. We did the head bow and, silently, he led us in through a passage into a large, book-lined office. Father Artur was already there with a middle-aged very academic looking man.
He introduced us to Herr Professor Doctor Sandor Sinkiewicz the Palace Archivist and the younger man, Doctor Paul Mossman, on loan from Harvard, who, up to that moment, did not know we were two English lads. Conversation up to then, it transpired had been in German for his benefit as he was fluent in that language and he hadn't realised that 'die jugendlichen', 'the young men', referred to us. After that conversation flowed. He was looking at the history of the country in the 1870s in relation to the rise of Germany and the effect on neighbouring states such as Rothenia. The big problem was the loss of records during the interwar First Republic, the Nazi era and then the Communists. Something seemed familiar but whatever it was eluded me for the moment. Anyway the Professor took over. He spoke good English but with quite a heavy Slavic accent. He also explained that much of the major holdings of the various libraries and archives had been looted or destroyed. The Palace Archive had been luckier than some because one of his predecessors had rallied some of the soldiers who were left guarding the Palace in 1939 and they had walled up a whole section of the underground book stacks.
Of course, that reminded me of the elusive thought but I didn't butt in. He said that one section saved were some of the manuscripts and records about the orders of chivalry. I took out the photograph of the Baron and he recognised the badge immediately as that of the Order of Henry the Lion First Class. Paul Mossman's ears pricked up when I went through the family tree of the recent Wildenstejn family including Julius, Curt's grandfather.
"He wrote a book," he said, "It is mentioned but I have never been able to locate a copy. I know he sketched in things I'm interested in but it was mainly about later happenings in the country."
"There is a copy," I said, "Curt's father has it. Apparently all the rest were burnt."
He looked overjoyed. "Please let me have his address I must visit him," he said.
"There's more," I said, really enjoying myself and I could see Father Artur was eyeing me and grinning. "There is a strange college in Cambridge called Michaelhouse and in the stacks is all the work done by a don called Herridge who must have been in Rothenia in the early 1900's. Boxes of it!"
I think Dr Mossman nearly keeled over with excitement. "Herridge! A very elusive man. He wrote two articles on Bismarck and I have never been able to follow them up."
The Professor held up a finger. "All that is for later. Dr Wendel says you have more photographs." Oh, of course, Father Artur must also be an academic doctor as a historian. I fished out the other photos and laid them on the desk.
"This must be the Baron and his wife and the house," I said.
The Professor picked up a powerful magnifying glass and went over the photograph very carefully nodding all the time but said nothing.
"Apparently," I went on, "There is a mausoleum or something on the left hand side of the house with an inscription." I pointed to the last photo. "I'm not sure how to pronounce it. It's 'Veschuttzegen' and Dr Stein suggests it is like the German word for 'guardian'."
The Professor was not a demonstrative man but I could sense he was getting excited but still remained silent.
I pulled out the keys. He did a double take. "That key," he pointed to the silver one with the eagle feathers above the ring, "I have seen a drawing of that. It is in a manuscript here but there is nothing other than the drawing. But wait. Let me tell you what I have deduced from the photographs." He stroked his rather luxuriant moustache. "First, I will tell you I have made many journeys around this country but there are still places I do not know. But, it is clear that this photograph...," He pointed at the one showing the house with the couple in front of it. "...was taken, I would say in 1925 or so and the house shape is typical of what is left of the bourgeois architecture of the Tirolen region. It is less decorated, though." He walked over to a large map of the country displayed on the wall. "Here it is." He pointed to the lower right hand side of the map. "It is a mountainous region in part with many valleys with streams that run into the two rivers. Here the Starel, which you see in Strelzen, and over the other side is the Ebrendt which forms part of the border of our country."
"Are there photographs or maps of that region here?" Tris asked picking up the magnifying glass and looking at the house picture.
The Professor shook his head. "The Nazis took all those records and commandeered all big houses which might be near the border. Many were destroyed and you can still see piles of rubble when you go along some of the roads. Some houses survived and in the Communist era were used as schools, hospitals or barracks. Families were displaced and many who could afford it fled before 1940 or in 1948. My own family went into what is now the Czech Republic and my Grandfather, although a highly trained engineer, worked as a farmhand. People went where they could disappear. I was able to study at the University in Prague but only under my Grandmother's name. I came back to Rothenia as soon as the Communists left. We have not been able to claim anything we lost as deeds and other documents have all disappeared. The government has said that whatever is ours will be returned if things are found." He turned to Father Artur. "The Rector has been fortunate because there were documents hidden at the farmhouse, is that not so?"
"Yes, but documents are turning up all the time," Father Artur said, "Recently, in the basement of the Rathaus in Luchau two chests of deeds were found and are being studied now in our Law Faculty."
"What about the house?" asked Tris, "I can see that some of the windows have carvings above them. Looks like bunches of leaves."
The Professor nodded. "They are acanthus leaves, I think. In our folklore it is a protective plant because it has prickly leaves."
"Don't they have acanthus leaves on Greek architecture? Round columns?" Tris was pointing to the two columns which framed the front entrance of the house. "Is that significant?"
"It may be," said the Professor taking the magnifier from Tris and peering again. "If we can identify the exact architecture we may be able to get somewhere." He shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately our Architecture Faculty was a casualty of the recent troubles." He did smile slightly. "But I am certain it is in that region. I have seen something else. Behind the house it is not in focus but there is a hilltop with perhaps some ruins. My guess is that the house is built...."
"....in a fertile valley, with a stream close by," I said.
The Professor stood up straight and looked at me. "Exactly. Those were the words I would have used."
I nodded. "Something I think Dr Stein said and I heard it clearly again just then." I didn't say anything else but I realised I had been gripping the silver key so hard the eagle feather top had left an imprint in my fingers. There was a distinct stillness in the room. "That word keeps going round in my head, too. The word on the small building. 'Guardian' Dr Stein said."
"Yes, let's think about that." He looked at the photo of the word. "I am sure it's an old word, perhaps even in dialect."
"It is," said Father Artur, "I have come across it in medieval manuscripts with various spellings. It certainly means 'guardian'. But we are not sure what is guarded."
Not sure? Father Artur, you are being a little economical with the truth, I thought. I know it is the box. But, true, we are not sure what is in the box. And we need your knowledge of medieval history of the country to help pinpoint when the rings were made and when the St Guthlac 'stone' chapel was founded, and why. No one spoke
"Let us look at what records we have for the Order of Henry the Lion," the Professor said, breaking the silence abruptly as he went over to a large cabinet in the corner of the room.
This was made up of wide, not very deep drawers, like a map cabinet. He pulled open the third drawer down.
"These are some of the copies of the Royal Warrants proclaimed when the order was conferred. Again, not many remain, but I found this one dated 1766 which seems to be relevant."
First he put on a pair of cotton gloves then drew out a scroll of parchment or vellum from the drawer. He unrolled it carefully weighting down the corners with brass weights.
"Perhaps Dr Wendel will help me. It is in old Rothenian and is, I think you say, flowery. I'll translate a little. 'To my most trusty and most faithful servant Leopoldus Gustavus chatelain..." I gave a little gasp. Not noted by the others intent on what the Professor was saying. The burnt documents had a possible 'Leopold'. Was it this one? I stood motionless as the Professor continued. "...and governor of the castle - the word used doesn't mean a fortress but somewhere lived in - of Wildewalmars - at least that is what it looks like..."
Father Artur picked up the magnifying glass and studied the document closely. "I would agree. There is a mark on the surface which hides part of those letters." He scanned forwards a bit but the Professor wanted to go on and didn't seem too pleased that Father Artur had looked further on
"Yes, I could see that. Now, 'of Wildewalmars and the most honoured - and here is an extended form of that word. It is very long and is not clearly written. 'Vesaufbechuttahren'" he said it slowly and very distinctly. "In my opinion it combines two ideas. Perhaps both 'keeper' and 'guardian'."
Father Artur bent over the manuscript again. He shook his head. "I have never seen that word before. It does have elements of 'aufbewahren' which means 'keeper' as well as some of the other one. I think I would agree." He looked at the Professor who was stroking his moustache again and looking rather smug.
The Professor pointed at the next part of the text. "'keeper of' and here it is not clear again, the word could be either 'schloss' or 'schluss'. The second is very near the German word 'schlussel' which means key. So 'castle' or 'key'? We have a choice."
"Why not both?" asked the ever pragmatic Tris.
The so far silent Dr Mossman looked over Father Artur's shoulder at the document. "I agree. It could be both. The house and the key." He pointed at the photo of the house. "My father is an architect and I spent many hours as a boy going through all his books of architectural styles. I think that house dates from about 1750. It may be in Rothenia but it's a fair copy of English Palladian style and there are examples in Bath in England where I think it originated. I visited there on my tour of England before I came on to Germany and then here. Dad was so keen I should see that city and the architecture. I bet someone from here had a contact, a visiting architect, or even went to the Spa in Bath for the cure."
"There's a Spa here. Do you think there might be a connection?" said Tris, "The front entrance is quite impressive. I don't know anything about architecture but it does have pillars just like this."
"I have not seen the Spa here, yet," said Dr Mossman. He shook his head. "I have been so busy putting together my notes. I must go and look."
Father Artur was smiling. "The Spa here goes back many years. The healing waters are mentioned for skin diseases from the times the Romans and the Germanic tribes overran this area. Though our main Spa buildings date from the mid nineteenth century, one or two pavilions survive from around 1760 or so. There was a great building program then including the Opera House and I expect country houses as well. The date would fit. But 'castle' and 'key'? Is it this key?" He pointed to the silver key where I had laid the pair on the desk.
"I have the feeling it is both," I said. "All things point to a guardianship." I nearly said 'of a certain box' but I saw Father Artur's penetrating gaze which halted me. Yes, the fewer people who knew about it the better! "And Leopoldus was one of the guardians." I hoped my emphasis on 'Leopoldus' had been caught by Tris. Yes. He smiled and nodded but said nothing.
The Professor was more intent on continuing his translation and I got the feeling we were straying from the straight and narrow in his opinion. He more or less jabbed his finger at the next part of the text. "It continues 'and to him I give the title Baron Zu Wilde... The rest of that name is quite unreadable but it goes on '...from my City of Rechtenberg whose Count...', but this next part which is also the beginning of the award of the other Order is not clear..." He pointed at a very dark stain across what must be several letters. He continued, "'...of Henry the Lion' and then the Royal Assent at the end. That starts with the usual 'by the Grace of God and by the Ordinance entrusted in me through...' but then the mark is over the next words. The signature is Rodolphus III. Or, at least the scribe has written the name like that. As I said, this is only a copy."
Father Artur was looking with the glass again. "Umh. 'Rechtenberg' is very clear. That is a large town in the Tirolen region. There is an important military garrison there which is near the Austrian border. I have not heard that title 'Count of Rechtenberg' It is interesting because the Rector's family comes from that region, too. I will consult him. He may know."
I walked over to the map which was covered with a network of tiny roads and what could only be tracks joining countless small communities. I noted the date on the map was 1910. I traced round the area which the Professor had pointed out was the Tirolen region.
"It's here," I said, "'Rechtenberg'. It's printed across other names, most ending in 'berg'. That means mountain, doesn't it?"
Father Artur nodded. "Often a village or town at the foot of a mountain can have that ending."
The others came over to the map. I was pointing at 'Rechtenberg'. Tris put his finger on Strelzen.
"How far from here to there?" he asked.
"I would guess two hundred and fifty kilometres," said Father Artur.
I did a quick calculation. "About a hundred and fifty miles."
Tris had been writing down what the Professor had said. "At least we have a general idea where the place might be. But it's a long way to go if we wanted to visit."
The Professor pointed at the map. "This is old. The main roads today are very good. It does not show the main railway which runs from here in Strelzen to the junction at Luchau and then South through valleys and tunnels to Austria and the capital Vienna. We now have good communication since the Communists went as before we were very cut off from Western Europe although our railway system and border connections were well in place by the 1870's." He went back to the document. "I am sorry but this is the only one I could find."
"We have clues," said Tris, "And we can tell Dr Stein a little more."
The Professor held up a finger. "I will ask permission to copy this for him. The King's Secretary will have to give permission as it is a Royal document. I think he will be very interested."
We thanked the Professor profusely for his time and expertise. He said he had found it very interesting as so few people visited the Archives though he'd had to deny two recent rather insistent enquirers who had refused to go through the proper channels. We thanked Father Dr Artur Wendel for making the arrangements and he just smiled enigmatically and said he would see the Chapter meeting finished by four so Dr Valentin would be ready for me to practise. Dr Mossman asked if he could buy us lunch so we could fill him in on Michaelhouse and Dr Stein, which we graciously accepted.
I remembered to pick up the keys and followed Tris and Dr Mossman out leaving Father Artur talking to the Professor. Just as the heavy door shut behind us my mobile trilled.. A text:
'George Henry Carr born ten thirty
Eight pounds two ounces Three
Mums OK Viewing at six at clinic
Ivo the Relieved Father'
To be Continued: