Tom Brownings Schooldays

Tom Browning's Schooldays

By

Joel

Chapter FortySeven

Japhet saw the need for more help and as I bravely extracted Master Radcliffe's quite lengthy pizzle from the folds of his underclout so he took hold of it and deftly withdrew his skin and directed the sudden outflow into the pot. It was a strong stream and the already contained liquid swirled around as Radcliffe moaned with relief. The boy was well-taken with drink and as he finished he slumped against me and Robin had to hold him tightly or he would have fallen flat.

Japhet was shaking his head. "He's a young'un to be so fuddled. I've had to find many a spout for young gentlemen 'specially with those older ones in Mr Pratt's. Most 'o them would-a wet themselves proper with no help." He pushed the pot back into the row of others, most now well-filled. I was grinning inwardly thinking that was perhaps just another task for servants!

"What's going on here?" a voice demanded. It was George who was surprisingly not befuddled himself.

"Your friend Master Radcliffe is not himself at the moment," I said. "We have had to assist him in a personal task..."

"...Or the little bugger would have pissed himself? Eh?" He reached down and shook the lad by his shoulder. Radcliffe just slumped further. "He needs his arse reddened for this. It is not the first time. I should have known when I saw him with that tankard." He shook the lad again but there was no response other than a moan.

Was it my fault? I had invited him to be with us at the Sing-Song and he had followed us when we returned. Had he been invited to the celebration? I had assumed as he was related to George he would be entitled to attend. Although many of the older members of the House had crowded our rooms on the top floor I had noted only the fags directly involved were in attendance. I had better confess my error to George.

Before I could do so Theo came along and quickly realised what had happened and took charge of the situation. "Farquar and Preston won't want him mewling and puking in their abode. He'll have to be bedded in our room." This was directed at me.

Where was he to go? My truckle bed I supposed with a handy chamber pot in case he was sick. George was nodding. "Japhet, my lad, draw out Master Browning's bed," he ordered. That was soon done. "Get the wretch in and make sure there is a pot by him." Robin very sensibly made his unsteady way back to his room while Japhet and I lifted Radcliffe clumsily and managed to get him onto my low bed. "Strip him down to his undervest and get everything else off him save his stockings," was the next order.

Radcliffe was like a rag doll as we took off his jacket then his cravat and shirt. Theo tugged down his britches and underdrawers. He carefully folded all the clothes and placed them on the desk. "There's room enough for both of you on that bed," said George. "You will have to be in charge of him as I saw he was with you." George had seen my error and I was being chastised, rightly, for it. I would apologise as soon as possible.

"Japhet, there will something for you and your brother in the morning. Make sure none of those pots will be stepped in. You could empty that one on your way down." George pointed to a half-filled one which was just outside our room.

As Japhet left to collect his brother Theo went out and nipped out the flames of the two candles on the window sill with his dampened fingers. As he returned and shut our door George once again congratulated me on our performance. I was rather ashamed having allowed Radcliffe to be a burden to us. George must have noted my less-than-happy face.

"Do not look so woebegone," he said, "That boy has disgraced himself at other times more than once. You were right to invite him but I should have been more attentive. Now, let us get some rest after such a good evening."

As we undressed and donned our nightgowns Theo was full of praise for George and his singing. "You have a fine voice and a good memory for the words. We must find more of those good country songs with stirring tunes for you."

George gave a short laugh. "Not those with wenches and their antics, eh?"

Theo laughed, too. "For the privacy of our own gatherings, perhaps." He came over to my bed and looked down at Radcliffe who was under my coverlet and quite deeply asleep. "I warrant he will have a sore head in the morning." He patted me on the back. "Look after him, please."

Our candles were extinguished and the usual prayer was said. I was tired and had taken more than my usual share of good strong drink and hoped I would not have to rise in the night. I had made sure I had knelt by a pot and discharged as much water as I could. I was ready for sleep but I snuggled up against the almost naked boy and put a protective arm over his shoulder. He murmured something and pressed back against me. I put my other arm around his chest and felt the warmth of his body through his undervest. Radcliffe murmured again but my eyes were heavy and I slept.

I must have slept very soundly as when I woke quite early in the morning Radcliffe had turned and was now holding me tightly against himself with his head on my shoulder. He was still asleep but I was quite aware that there was a substantial hardness pressing against me. Likewise within the confines of my night gown I was matching him. I lay still and dozed fitfully each time waking aware of our continued arousal. At last I slept quite deeply again until awakened by a single tap on my shoulder. It was George.

"It is near seven I would judge so it is time to rise and make our visit," he said softly. It was not like the usual rough awakening. Indeed he lifted the coverlet away from the pair of us quite gently. It was then he sniggered. "I see the boy has risen already," he said as he moved Radcliffe's arm from around my shoulder. "Slide out and let him be. He will be feeling my leather slipper on his arse later."

I did not dare remonstrate. I had more than enjoyed being held so tightly and having him share my bed. Even in the short time I had known him I had grown fond of the lad. I knew I loved my Robin but here was another who I could be a good friend to. As I shed my nightgown I was even more aware of my hardness than usual. I felt that urge to share my arousal with young Radcliffe so powerfully I had to shake my head to rid me of those thoughts. I quickly put on britches and shirt and thrust my feet into my new slippers and was first out of the room. In my thoughts I had been betraying my own dear Robin. I was in turmoil as I hurried down the stairs past a sleeping Pullen and had the door open before George joined me. As we hurried to the privy I congratulated him on his birthday. He ruffled my hair and laughed.

"Take care where you sit today," he warned me, "After such an evening there will be shit everywhere!"

Even in the gloom I was aware of two of the stalls having soft turds deposited by those not quick enough to lower britches or trousers and sit properly. George and I took two stalls furthest away and they were clean. Both of us had much to deposit ourselves and with the liquor as well my outpouring was soft and plenty. I had not been remiss and had remembered to grab my soft paper on leaving our room so was able to clean myself quite well but desired the hot water in the washroom to finish the task. The two of us were ready to make that short journey when Fraser arrived with Theo in tow. Fraser was full of congratulations also.

George was attentive after thanking him. "Come down here," he called, "At least these are not soiled."

Theo was sniffing as he joined us. "There is an evil smell along there. Strong drink and good food make for a stench."

"That is so," affirmed George, "I have noted that many a time both for myself and young cubs who stuff and quaff down one hole without a thought to what appears at another hole. Is that not so?" This last was directed at me together with a cuff to my head which I avoided by a quick movement. "This one's learning fast," he said, but I was not quick enough this time as his other hand delivered the light blow.

George and I walked back in silence to the washroom where young Potts was his usual attentive self. I felt quite clean after my soap and hot water had done its duty. As we left the washroom George caught hold of my sleeve and we stood still. In the gloom I could see George was hesitant.

"Take care," he said quietly at last, "That boy wishes for a friend and must not come between you and..." He stopped as two others hurried past us to the privy. Dear George had hit my dilemma straightforwardly. He waited a moment. "I had thought on times he visited Garthorpe and I to his place we might have been just friends but he wanted more. He is a good lad but I could not..." He stopped again.

"...Thank you." I whispered immediately, "I could have been tempted." I knew a friendship with Henry Radcliffe would be more than the boyish associations I had, say, with Jabez or Benjy. He would come between me and my Robin as George had so rightly judged. Perhaps we could be friends, but no more. I would discuss this with Robin as soon as possible. I would abide by any decision he might make but I would not want to hurt Radcliffe's feelings. Perchance the three of us could be friends? I would have to wait and see.

George patted me on the back. "I could have been tempted, too," he replied quietly. He took my arm. "I think the boy needs to be chastised for taking too much strong liquor. A good few mighty thwacks on that white arse of his will remind him."

"Please, George, do not hurt him. I invited him so it was my error. It was my fault he took the drink." I sniffed. I knew I loved the boy. I had to stop these thoughts. My love was for my Robin. I was perplexed.

George smiled at me. "I will respect your wishes but he must learn a lesson. Perhaps his head will hurt as much as a reddened arse and that will be punishment enough."

We saw another with a sore head. Pullen had a half-empty bottle of rum and a glass with more than a tot in it on the table next to his chair. He was dozing and half-snoring and did not notice us as we passed.

George shook his head as we went up the stair. "I do not think that sot can last much longer here. Things could be worse, though. If he goes there would be plenty ready to take his place."

I did not question that but followed as George opened our door silently and beckoned me to look. Radcliffe was stirring. He was sitting up with the coverlet all awry. He was shaking his head slowly and looked most doleful.

"So you are awake, Henry, my boy. I hope you have not pissed the bed or you will be tossed down the stairs." George went over to him and put his hands under the lad's arms and lifted him straight up. There was no hardness now. His more than boyish length was hanging limp.

"Oh, George," he almost wailed, "I have a pounding in my head and my belly aches. Please, I need the privy."

George picked him up bodily and carried him from the room. I thought for a moment he was going to take him downstairs. "A clean pot!" This was an order for me. While we had been away the row of pots had been taken and emptied . I picked the biggest and carried it to the top of the stairs. George brought Radcliffe along and settled him on the pot. It was none too soon. There was a mighty fart and whatever was in Radcliffe was expelled in a trice. He groaned and George had to support him or he would have toppled over. There was a second fart and the stench was appalling.

"He must go to the washroom," George said through gritted teeth. "There is an old towel on my shelf in the closet. We'll wrap it round him and get him downstairs. Give him some paper first, though."

I found the towel and brought a little of my paper. I held onto Radcliffe as George lifted him and did not wipe him but forced the paper between his arsecheeks then swathed him in the towel. "Take his legs and mind you do not trip and fall." Between us we got him down two flights of stairs and to the washroom. There we were greeted with cheers and jeers by a good number who were cleaning themselves. Young Potts quickly ladled hot water into a hip-bath and as George took off Radcliffe's undervest I removed his stockings so he was ready to be lowered into the cleansing liquid. Before this George removed the shit- stained paper and put it into the fire under the copper full of heated water, The immersion did revive Radcliffe somewhat and his eyes opened wide as a number of the others took the ladle and sloshed hot water over him.

"He's not the only one," called out one of the older ones. "Pritchard's still senseless in his bed. I saw him as I passed the room."

"He's senseless out of bed," another shouted, "His brains are in his ballocks!"

There was a silence. Then laughter from two or three and others joined in. Fullbright, Pritchard's roommate, stalked up to where some of the loudest comments came. It was dark so I could not see who had called out. "And do you not have a fine pair you swing for everyone's admiration when you take a bath? With a little less wit you would be a fine adornment to Bartleby's Remove and could play the ape there most perfectly. Pritchard may not be a scholar but I warrant he could outrun and outride you, my friend."

Another laugh and someone else called out. "From his boasts he would ride any maiden and anything else on two legs!"

That did produce a great guffawing from most of the older ones in the room. George tugged at my arm. I could see he was upset. A reminder of the assault he had suffered from Black Jack I was sure.

"Take no notice," he said quietly to me, "Those fellows think of nothing more and 'tis all boast. About maidens I mean." He stopped, probably realising he had left out those other creatures on two legs. He let out a breath. "Let us get this scoundrel out of his bath."

While this interchange between Fullbright and the others had been in progress Radcliffe had stirred himself sufficiently to wash himself. George held the slightly soiled towel out for him as he stepped quite gracefully from the bath. Why did I think 'gracefully'? Attention was then drawn to him as in drying his head and shoulders first he was fully on display to the onlookers.

"You had better wrap him up well, Lascelles, or he might take Pritchard's fancy!" This was called out by one of those who had started the badinage.

A furious Fullbright strode up to the corner where the voice had come from. There was little light in the room and there was silence again and a few sniggers. He must not have identified the caller as he came into the centre again looking furious.

"Is that pretty young Twitchett tending to him?" The same voice called but from another place. A good play on 'Mountfitchett' I thought and even George gave a laugh.

"Twitching all over, I wager," called out the second voice. The general guffaw was too much for Fullbright who gathered up his towel and washcloth and stalked out.

I knew from what Benjy had told me that boys could and did do things like 'playing the mare'. Robin and I had found other pleasures, too, but I assumed the reference had been made to playing the 'beast with two backs' as Mr Shakespeare called it. I looked at Radcliffe who was now standing with his back to me as he dried his front and then bent to cope with his wet legs. His rear was before my eyes and it looked most neat and shapely and had crevices which were now free of any mud or shit. I fretted in case he should be punished and wished to caress him and comfort him if that occurred. My thoughts were getting the better of me again.

Radcliffe was finished now so George made him wrap the towel about himself again. At that moment Preston came striding in. "Davis told me the wretch was here," he said and grabbed at the boy. "You promised not to get fuddled again and I hear you spent the night in another's bed because you were too gone in drink." I thought Radcliffe was about to sob. "Come with me and you will learn to repent with both a sore head and a sore arse no doubt!"

George held up a finger. "My friend," he said quietly to Preston, "The lad has suffered enough already and will repent without being beaten I am sure. He would be better served to be required to do more than the usual menial tasks." Radcliffe stood with head bowed as George smiled at Preston and winked.

"Your kindness in keeping him safely means we are indebted to you," said Preston also with a smile. "I am only angered as the scurvy knave deprived me of more of that fine cordial on offer through his over-indulgence." He took hold of the lad's other arm. "Where are your clothes?"

"We have them in our room," I said, speaking up though as a fag I was being somewhat forward with one who was at least two years older than I. "I will take him up and see him properly dressed."

Preston responded with a toss of his head. "I would not myself be so kind. Six cuts with my silver-topped malacca first would be my prescription." He smiled again then. "But Dr Browning I would not lose your goodwill as I might have need of one of your prescriptions at some time. Farquar tells me you cured Fraser's ankle and Maitland was praising your treatment of his sore tooth."

I smiled back. "I only did what I have been taught. I trust that you will not need my services or those of a properly qualified physician for many a long year."

He shook his head. "My family has had its share of quacks and charlatans. Two of my aunts have paid small fortunes on imaginary illnesses. My mother cannot convince her sisters they have nothing amiss but they fear that unless they swallow pills and potions they will succumb to some dread malady which only the so-called Dr Whiteheart knows the cure."

My cousin had told me many times that too many people were misled by universal panaceas which were peddled not only at fairs and in the markets but were advertised in quite reputable news sheets. He warned me not to be taken by the claims but, once again, to watch and note what was efficacious in particular cases.

"My cousin has told me of many like cases and that doctors should take great care of what and how they treat. He says that money is often made by persuading people that they are sick when they are not."

Preston laughed. "That is so true of my aunts. Here, take this creature and get him respectable."

Radcliffe gave me a wry smile and George pointed to the door. "There is an old pair of boots here. He can wear them to take the path outside," he said and waved his hand as if to shoo us out. With the ends of the towel flapping we made our way through the chilliness of the morning to the House. Pullen was not there but the usual fetid aroma of unwashed body and cheap spirits was evident as we passed the open door of his lair.

Theo was dressed and writing a letter by the light of a single candle. He stared as the towel was removed and Radcliffe stood quite naked. I could see his body was well-made. He was a little taller than me and his dark bush was quite abundant above that hanging treasure. He was not discomfited by being naked in our presence and smiled as Theo passed him his stockings. He spent time pulling them on and took his undervest next so still displayed himself fully before stepping into his underclout. This he pulled up tightly before tying a bow in the thin cord around his midriff. "I must change this shirt for a clean one as soon as I get downstairs," he said as he displayed a still-damp wine stain on the front of a fine cambric shirt which he had donned. "Just my jacket and shoes, now." These were quickly put on and he stood up straight wriggling his shoulders to set his coat. "I will thank you and bid you farewell," he said with a most enchanting smile. I followed him to the door where he turned and took my hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for being so kind. My head is improving so I must have breakfast," he said, "May I call you Tom, my friend?"

I merely nodded and shut the door behind him. Theo was shaking his head. "I would take care, Tom." He said no more but I knew a careful judgement had been made. I sighed. "Have you written home yet?" he asked. "I thought I would spend these few minutes which will be quieter than sitting all together in the dining hall after luncheon."

I had several letters to write and in my head made a list. Of course to my mother and father, then to Lancelot and a short note to Natty's mother. Uncle Dodd and Aunt Matty were next and I could add a sentence to whatever Robin would write to his mother and father. I still thought of Steven Goodhew as his father. Two good fathers! And a good uncle! I must not forget Aunt Fanny and Uncle Digby and I wondered if Torquil and Geoffrey Lascelles had reached London safely.

My thoughts then returned to contemplation of Henry Radcliffe. I felt the way he had dressed slowly and in that order of clothing was a deliberate act of temptation on his part. What did he want? What did I want? I needed my Robin. All this was in my head as I took off those clothes I had worn for the visit to the privy and dressed in my Sunday best ready for breakfast and Chapel.

To quell unwanted thoughts I found some paper and a pen and wrote to Lancelot first. I could tell him of the immediate use of some of his remedies though the image of soothing Henry's most-sore legs and buttocks with liniment kept intruding on my concentration. There, I thought of him as Henry! He wanted to call me Tom. I was getting quite confused and had to think hard to spell 'arnica' correctly. That letter done it was easier to concentrate on the lines to Mrs Dyer. I said I was sure Natty was well-settled and was taking great care of our mounts. I would get Robin to add something to the letter as that would reduce the expense of the postage if he were to write his own letter as well! He could buy Natty something from Mrs Williams' shop with the penny or so saved!

I had just finished my part of that letter when George came into the room. He was laughing. "Preston is still ranting about that young wretch. He needs to be watched." He looked at me. "Watched carefully!" I was fully aware of the intended message. He turned to Theo. "You were not there when Dullbright was bested," he said with a guffaw. It was interesting how he had altered the name. Theo shook his head. "You heard it all?" George asked me. I nodded. George then repeated the badinage which caused Theo to look at me with pursed lips. "Fullbright was most incensed but was unable to find the culprits in the gloom. After he left in high dudgeon all was revealed. They were two fellows from Carstairs' House and had used our hot water as there was none in their washroom. They are friends of Preston as they have practised archery together at the butts behind Big School and he had told them we always had good hot water." He turned to me. "You have not remarked that Preston is in our House now. That fellow Hayden has decided his playing of cricket would be more appreciated in Carstairs's House so Mr Ridley has given his permission for them to change over." I had quite forgotten that Preston was a somewhat silent but attentive member of Mr Ridley's classes.

"It would seem Farquar is well-pleased to have a scholar with him now but it would be best not to advertise our good fortune in the matter of washhouse," Theo said, "Our hot water is most welcome especially on these cold days." Theo held up the page he was writing on. "You must not be tardy with your letters, George, your father must be told how fine Barbary is."

"I will be diligent," George said nodding his head. "I must also write to that fellow who sold him the old nag..."

"...And I will write to that fellow and say how you ride so badly you should have a hobby horse with jingling bells instead to run up and down with in the stable yard!" I riposted. "I shall also inform him..."

I got no further as George had me on my back over their bed and I was held and tickled and could do nothing but squirm and laugh.

"What will you inform him?" he demanded. "Tell me or you will be shaken until your little balls will jingle..."

"...George!" said Theo tartly, "It is the Sabbath and we have heard enough ribaldry already this morning." He stood up and held George's sleeve. "George, I did not mean to be so censorious but some of our fellows are very immodest in their speech. I know most are idle boasts or jests but I have to take care nothing could return to my father's ears if any such things were directed at me."

George let me be and turned to Theo. "My dear friend, there is no underlying evil in anything they say. Trust me, I have said enough myself and I have been maligned in turn but you would not place any credence on any of that I'm sure. Let them have their jests and rudenesses, it is just that a single thought runs riot in the heads of all us boys as we grow."

Theo was nodding. "That is true. It is something I have contemplated many times." He looked over at me still supine on the bed. "You will find certain thoughts will intrude upon even your most innocent musings unless your attention is diverted to more worthy notions."

I knew exactly what he was referring to. My thoughts were often directed to those strange feelings I had first experienced some two years or so previously and most certainly whenever I was in the company of my dearest friend. Now, today I had felt drawn in that way to another. I had to move from the bed as those thoughts were now making their effect known. I tried to think of something worthy but I was in a turmoil. George's hands on me had been arousing and now the images of both my own Robin and Henry Radcliffe were vying for attention. I slid down so my feet reached the floor. My predicament had been noted by both as my britches were bulging.

I had to be bold. "I am growing, too. I cannot contain my urges or my feelings without great effort." I looked from one to the other. "We have that necessary release each night and I have been so relieved there is an openness between us about it."

George was grinning. "There is no need for worthy thoughts at that time. I do not betray any confidences but both Theo and I were a mite concerned that our unknown fag might be the offspring of some Puritan divine whose carnal thoughts had been beaten out of him."

Theo laughed. "There was a certain apprehension that first night but George took the bull by the horns..."

We all laughed at that and George put an arm around my shoulder and hugged me. "You, my boy, have exceeded all our expectations and I can vouch for the evidence that you are growing!"

I had time then to sign and fold the letter to Mrs Dyer which I would give to Robin for his additions to it. I set up a second sheet and began the salutation to my dear mother and father and then sat and thought of what I might write. I would have to tell of the good journey and say that young Freddy Neville was happily ensconced as I was sure Colonel Neville would still be at Careby Hall. Of course, I would have to say that George was more than pleased with his mount and would describe his naming which would amuse my father. There had to be a description of the Sing-Song without reference to the befuddled and then aroused Henry Radcliffe. An image of that hard prick pressed against me caused my thoughts to wander and I wanted to grip that weapon of his... ...I had to clench my fists to divert those musings but they were gaining the upper hand. A hand, a grip, my own peg straining in my britches. I had had no release the night before and my need was great. I knew as soon as I saw my Robin my desire would be even greater. I had concern that I might spurt without touching as I had done two or three times in the night when somewhat younger when I was not taking daily pleasure with my hand. With effort my thoughts returned to the task in hand. 'Task in hand'! I needed to write a letter!

My reverie was broken as George was ready dressed as well and said we should get to the dining hall for breakfast as his belly was empty and needed filling so he could sleep soundly during the sermon. It was the first time I saw Theo cuff George who just laughed and said he was sure Theo had slept through his own father's sermons and surely that was what sermons were for. "A good rest on the Sabbath for all those who toil in the week," was his comment.

"My father spends a deal of time on writing his sermons and does that on each Thursday so we always have cold cuts for luncheon which do not disturb his concentration," said Theo. "He is not always good-tempered on Thursdays."

"Then he should go back over all those he has prepared before and make use of them again. There would be few who could remember his words from five or ten years back I wager."

Theo grinned. "My mother has said the same but father is too meticulous and says there are always new messages to impart."

"My cousin's messages are always too dreary and I have drowsed through many of his sermons," I said. "They are most erudite as he quotes in Latin or Greek but his parishioners have no knowledge of such languages for all that and must dutifully attend. He is a kind man, though," I added.

"It would be kind for many parsons to not speak for too long," George said, "My grandfather had a clock placed on the gallery to remind the rector that he always had luncheon at one o'clock promptly and my father sees it is wound each week. At least Mr Ridley does not maunder on."

"So there is no need for you to sleep then, George," Theo said, "But we tarry here when your belly should be leading us to the trough!"

I carefully locked the door behind us as we processed along the passageway. There were noises from inside most of the rooms so others were readying themselves. We met Lawson on the stairway and he said he was famished. Having seen him devour three good- sized sausages and two of the tartlets last night even after his evening meal he was another of George's ilk. But then, I was also ready for my food. That was something to ask about. I had seen drawings in Lancelot's books on anatomy of our 'internal organs' and had witnessed more than one pig or sheep being sliced open behind Mr Wheaton's butcher's shop. There seemed to be many feet of coiled and slippery entrails in each of those slaughtered animals. The etchings in the books showed we possessed much the same. I knew we had a stomach and I knew food passed down to it and somehow changed because what we discharged was rank and vile. How did all that happen?

These thoughts occupied me until we were seated in the dining hall. There were few already seated though the Pups and Whelps were already in their places. I saw young Freddy Neville look at me and I smiled at him. He dropped his gaze bashfully and I had to straighten my face as I had broken a small commandment. I would have to make amends and ask Mr Pretyman if he might ride with us again to exercise his Prince.

Breakfast was most welcome. As well as a bowl of steaming porridge there was also a spoon or two of eggs scrambled and laid on a cut slice of warm bread. I saw George smiling at this.

"This is a favourite of mine at home," he said, "It is rare to have such good fare here but I heard Cook say she had a surfeit of preserved eggs."

Lawson, who was sitting next to him, nudged him. "Oh, George Lascelles, you have been wheedling extra rations from the kitchen again no doubt. I must learn your ways as I have great need of feeding after a good game of football."

George grinned at him. "There is no secret. I merely went to ask if two of the serving boys could assist with last night's extra repast. Mrs Partridge was most amenable and if I had a slice of fruit tart while there it was a gesture of goodwill on her part. The boys did not complain either as there was a thruppence each for them for their services."

"No wonder you have had three large spoons of that fine egg this morning," Lawson said and poked his own spoon into the heap still on George's slice of bread.

"There, my friend, have a little as I am not greedy like some I could mention," George said with a nod of his head to where Collett was now sitting along from me on the other side of the table..

"That you are not," Lawson said taking only a small dab of the yellow mess. "And I must congratulate you on the grand evening we had last night. My birthday is but three weeks away so we must celebrate that." He laughed. "I will be feeling old and time goes so fast."

I was having many thoughts this morning. I wanted to find out what happened to food after we had eaten it and now Lawson had mentioned time. I had watched the second hand on our old grandfather clock steadily tick around its dial and then each minute passing until the hour struck. Did time go slow or fast wherever you were? I was aware that while in London things seemed to happen so much faster and while I was busy then the hours passed more quickly. Days came and days went. George's seventeenth birthday was today and my fifteenth would be soon. Where had I been in those two years between us? I shook my head. Time had passed and I was not here. Mr Martin had read of 1665 and it was now 1844. Where had all that time gone? Perhaps I should ask that question in Mr Ridley's class or was I being silly or ignorant? I would ask Robin or Theo first.

I continued eating but my head was abuzz with thoughts because there were things I did not want to ponder. I looked up as more latecomers entered. Two came in slowly and were rubbing their temples and saying something to each other. Robin and Radcliffe! I looked at them as they passed our fully occupied table. Both smiled though Robin grimaced as well. My attention was diverted to them and I heard no more of the chat between the fellows around me. I saw the pair sit together and they were soon deep in conversation as they were served and began their breakfast. Why was my Robin now so friendly with Radcliffe? Of course, we had shared a table at the Sing-Song and we had eaten and drunk together afterwards. Radcliffe was more than forward in his attention to me. I remembered that hardness pressed into me and I had to squirm a little as I felt my own response to the thought. Oh, to be with Robin even for just a few minutes! And with Radcliffe! I tried to dismiss that thought but there was an attraction to him which I had not felt before except to my Robin.

I made a good effort and set to to finish the good egg on its bread. The tastiness diverted my thoughts and I listened now as Lawson was saying to George how he had a fine voice. George saw me looking at him and he smiled. "Helped by all the squeaks and scrapes you heard as well!" I did not dare sneer though my lip curled a mite. "They did make a fine tune, though," he added and the smile changed to a sneer then a smile again as he nodded at me across the table. "Where is that other one? I must congratulate him again on his able playing."

"I would say his head aches a little and he is sitting along there with Master Radcliffe who suffers the same," I said rather coolly.

George must have caught my tone as he nodded at me. "I have no doubt that is so as the pair were busy with their beakers last night." He did not add that Radcliffe was busy with the chamber pot this morning. He looked along the row stretching his head forward. As he sat back he looked at me steadily and pursed his lips. His smile was there again. "So, my dear Lawson, you had a merry evening. I saw you with a tankard to your lips on more than one occasion. I swear you must have downed a good gallon!"

Lawson laughed. "George Lascelles that is a mite exaggerated. Farquar added a dram or two of that whisky of his to my pint pot. I was circumspect, though, as I suffered at home on the New Year. Our factor had delivery of a cask of rather sour wine and although sugar was added to sweeten it my father had to apologise to several guests whose trousers and drawers were round their ankles most of the next morning." He sniggered. "I must admit the commode in my room was well-used and that young brother of mine would have needed your attention, Master Browning, with that same potion you dosed us with last term."

I had forgotten that Lawson must have been one of the sufferers then. As far as I knew there had been only one who had over-indulged greatly the night before and as I clenched the handle of my fork tightly I thought of that other hardness I had wanted to grip this morning.

I finished the rest of my breakfast quickly and excused myself and hurried off back to our room. I needed urgent release and after removing the guard in front of the fire I knelt and quickly had my stiff pizzle in my hand and made the coals sizzle as I released those pent- up juices. My thoughts were on my dear Robin and these were jostled for attention by the sight of that other boy's own hardness and my great desire... With that release I felt so sad. It should have been shared with my own true friend, nay, my love!

I had to make myself decent again but first noticed I had spilled two or three drops in the grate. My handkerchief was used to mop these and it was blackened and the tiles there looked too clean. I used the poker and spread a little ash to cover my efforts. I had barely time to button myself and put two more coals on the fire before I heard approaching footsteps. The guard was back and I was sitting with a copy of Mr Stanley's 'Ten Organ Voluntaries' in front of me when the door opened. Theo came in first quite unconcernedly but George followed and looked around and pretended to sniff. He had my measure. As I looked up at him one eye slowly and deliberately closed and opened again.

"My, my," he said, "The ever-industrious young pupil, eh? Ever-industrious!"

That emphasis signalled to me he was quite aware why I had made that early exit. Oh, George! What am I to do?

George came over and peered at the music on the open pages. "What is this? More screechings?"

Theo stood by him. "Ah, you will be ready to play for Mr Skrimshire after Chapel." He turned to George who had not heard the instruction from the master last night. "He and young Goodhew are to show their further prowess after Chapel this morning. Mr Skrimshire is to hear them play the organ."

George slapped me on the back. "Organ? What is that? Not another one, eh?"

I knew what George was referring to. That unruly instrument each of us possessed and on whose pipe we played our favourite tune each night. Theo also knew. He held up an admonitory finger.

"Let us not reduce ourselves to the sensibilities of the rabble. If young Tom and Robin Goodhew are to be tried and tested it would not harm you to stay and support them as I am sure Branscombe, Maitland and I will certainly do."

George slapped me again. "I am commanded, so do not put a finger wrong or I will be blamed for intimidating you." He shook his head. "You and the other boy show skills far beyond yokels like me. I heard you last night and marvelled at what you lads can do. I sing a song or two but you surpass me with your talent."

I had to reply. "George, we enjoy what we do. We have played together for some years and we are in our village band. I may be the son of the gentry but I am no different from my fellows as we play. We are equal there."

I knew I was almost preaching a revolutionary tract. Uncle Dodd had explained to us the causes and the happenings of the French Revolution and also the actions leading to the downfall of the British in the American colonies. They may still have slaves there as we had in our own colonies until the Act of Parliament we had discussed but I felt most assuredly that many of our own people were still enslaved in the menial tasks and the treatment they received at the hands of their masters.

George looked at me keenly. "Do you not believe we are set in our stations in life?"

I was being bold but I remembered what Uncle Dodd had said. "George, you are the son of a lord of the realm. You were born to that position which you must hold and revere and use it to serve your country and your fellow man. I may be only a boy but I have learned much from being allowed to run wild, as my father says, with the highest and the lowliest boys in our village and I have learned they are no different as friends or even foes. I have said this before and it is what I believe."

There was a silence. "My boy, in those words you have given me much to think of. Take care, though, there are those here who would take those words as being for revolution and against government."

Theo was nodding. "My father has espoused several similar thoughts. He wonders if there are fixed stations in life. He has had experience of several young fellows in the course of his ministry who though of the lowest orders have risen with help to positions of considerable importance. In history think of Cardinal Wolsey who was but a butcher's son. We have discussed such things with Mr Ridley and I concur there are those here who see such thoughts as dangerous."

I thought then of my Robin. He could be considered as lowly but I held him in the highest esteem. He would succeed in life I was sure and whatever help I could muster would be his.

George was grinning. "Let us just consider ourselves for the moment. I promise I will be there and you must make it tuneful as nothing is worse than a poor sermon followed by a dirge."

"I am sure Mr Ridley and Mr Skrimshire might take you to task over that comment," said Theo poking George in the arm. "Mr Ridley has always some quite profound message to impart and Mr Skrimshire is most adept and I am always ready to hear him play."

I said I must speak to Robin and decide on what pieces we might play. I asked their permission to leave and picked up the book and, without more ado, took up my cap and cloak ready to go to Chapel after consulting with Robin and left the room.

I tapped on the end door and Maitland called out 'Who's there? Friend or foe?"

What could I answer? 'Beelzebub himself come to claim your soul!' sprang to my mind but I forbore and just said 'Master Browning!' He called out 'Come in!' And I found the three of them busy in making themselves tidy and presentable for Chapel. Branscombe was combing his hair and Robin was doing his duty as fag by brushing down Maitland's fine tailcoat which he was proudly wearing.

"D'you like my new coat?" he asked and set his shoulders straight. "Pater said I needed to look more like a gentleman than the usual hobble-de-hoy."

He did look very smart. He also had a proper top hat, not the boyish cap with a tassel I and Robin would still be wearing.

Branscombe was not to be outdone. He had a new waisted jacket with short tails and fine silver buttons. His top hat was not so high as Maitland's but as he was taller the pair made such a fine match.

Robin looked at me and winked. He was also well-dressed. I had not realised but Aunt Matty must have commanded Mr Corsham to produce the best tailoring he could. I thought my London clothes were of the highest quality but dear Robin matched me. He shook his head. I could see he was beginning to realise his new station in life. In my eyes he outshone even our other two proud peacocks in the room.

I replied that I thought the whole trio did themselves and the House great honour by their most gracious appearance. Maitland laughed and said as soon his trousers were too tight he would pass them on to me for that most felicitous compliment. As he stood his trousers could have done with a little more generosity in their tailoring so I thanked him as it would not be long before he needed to ask for a larger size! I was polite and asked if his tooth was still hurting. He nodded. "It ached somewhat this morning when I woke. I will take your advice and have it removed." He grimaced.

I then asked if I might spend a few moments with Robin to choose what we might play for Mr Scrimshire's judgement. They wanted to know more and were even more intrigued when the pair found that both Robin and I could also play the organ.

Branscombe was shaking his head. "We have but two fiddles and a bum bass in our church to set the tune. Our rector says he will not have a box of whistles to squeak and squeal though I warrant there is not a finer sound in the cathedral at Canterbury when we attend there. Mr Skrimshire here plays good tunes and I like to feel that rumble when we all sing the hymns."

Maitland was looking in a glass and pulling at his cravat. "We have some organ with a barrel which turns and plays the tunes. My father says the churl who turns the handle should have his arse kicked when it goes too slow to sing but the thing is so ancient and is lacking wind as well. I think my Uncle Jacob is minded to buy an instrument in memory of my Aunt Frances who died two years ago but we have no one who has skill for the keys." He looked at Robin. "If it is the truth you are proficient I might inform my Uncle and chain you like those monkeys I have read about."

"What is that?" asked Branscombe buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket to see which way he preferred. "What monkeys?"

I knew what he meant. Even on one of the cold days while in London I had seen a scrawny monkey on a lead with a cup in its paw while its owner played a hurdy-gurdy balanced on a stick as he walked along the pavement. I said what I had seen and Maitland said that he had seen an illustration in a book of stories when he was younger and it was how I had described.

I held up my book of music and was able then to discuss with Robin what we might play. He said he would like to present Voluntary number Eight as the opening Largo was marked Full Organ and the Vivace would allow him to show off both manuals with the quiet passages followed by the louder.

I said I would try Voluntary Seven where both sections would allow me to contrast the Full Organ with quieter stops for the Echo passages in the same way.

I think both Maitland and Branscombe were bemused by our discussion and were staring over our shoulders as we turned the pages. When we had finished Branscombe slapped me on the back. "If you do as well as you did at that At Home I would listen to you all day."

Maitland laughed. "Branscombe, my friend, I think we should chain the pair and we would make our fortunes if we could but find a couple of those hurdy-gurdies."

I said I thought he had not understood as it was the owner who had to turn the handle and all the monkey did was collect the money. I got another slap. "You think you should be the one who turns and I or Branscombe should hold the cup?"

"And be as naked as the monkey," I said and got a slap with a guffaw from both. I did not say perhaps the lead should be affixed to the ring on Branscombe's cods and that would surely draw the crowds and their money. That would be for Robin later!

It was nearing time to leave for Chapel so I left and found George and Theo also most smartly dressed and ready to depart. As we walked to Chapel so Theo questioned me about our plans for the demonstration of our skill. I explained we had chosen two different pieces both by Mr Stanley who had been organist at the Temple Church in London and was famed for his expertise. Theo said he hoped we had not chosen pieces which were too difficult for us.

The service seemed very long this morning though Mr Ridley's sermon could not have been more than fifteen minutes or so. He spoke of the New Year and how Spring would soon be awakening nature around us and that we should praise our Creator for that great blessing of the continuing seasons. He said that we were ourselves at the beginning of our years and would pass through our own seasons as we traversed the years before us. He commended that as we took Communion we should think of our futures and that we should strive to always do right. We certainly enjoyed singing 'Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee' as the final hymn before Mr Skrimshire played on as all filed out. That is, there were six of us left who made our way towards the organ at the side of the chancel. Robin and I with our attentive fag masters.

We stood and waited until with a flourish and three last loud chords Mr Skrimshire finished playing. He looked towards the brawny young man who had been pumping the air into the bellows. "Thank you, Herbert, you kept me well-filled with air." The lad bowed his head and smiled. Mr Skrimshire held up a finger, "I need your services for a while longer, there is more work for you to do." He turned to where the six of us were standing.

"Davis, bring the two up here," he commanded. We three went to the console and Mr Skrimshire slid from the bench. He looked at Robin and me. "Which one is which?"

Theo took the lead. "This is Master Thomas Browning and here is Master Robin Goodhew."

Mr Skrimshire smiled. "I have heard much of both of you and was most delighted with your playing last night. Now it is to be the organ." He saw the volume I was carrying. "So it is to be Mr Stanley, eh? Who is to be the first?"

I felt Robin's hand on my elbow. I suppose as eldest by a day and also his uncle he had decided I should be the first to be cast into the fiery furnace! I stepped forward.

To be continued:

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