Aladdin's Awakening by Joel

On the journey down to Dover from London we were pretty quiet. This gave me the chance to review some of the things Tony had told me about his stay so far at Garthorpe Hall. Luckily he didn't tell everyone about the ten books I'd discovered and now had secreted, so far unread and still in the two cardboard boxes, in my bedroom wardrobe at Kerslake. But, he did announce a couple of other findings while having after-dinner drinks in the garden on Saturday evening after Francis and James had reluctantly gone off to bed.

Tony laughed again. “Sorry, but the arrangement is quite clear. I work in the library in the mornings and do my own thing in the afternoons. I've been getting into the library at six a.m. just as his Lordship goes off riding. So he knows and I've managed to get quite a bit done and....” He waved his hand dramatically. “....I have made two discoveries which should be great value to the house of Harford....” He looked round and saw we were all looking at him. “Heard of Audubon?” he asked.

Tony nodded. He turned to me. “Remember that box of documents you pulled out first?” I nodded, the one with accounts and railway documents and God knows what else. “You didn't notice what it was resting on?” I shook my head. “Well, you missed a great prize. A genuine first edition of Birds of North America. Eighteen twenty seven. Pristine condition. Don't think it's been opened since it was put there. In fact, I don't think many of the books have ever been off the shelves. Did find a copy of Winnie the Pooh and one of Wind in the Willows which Charley said were his. That was until Gussie claimed them. I didn't let him claim the other find, tho' I had to ask him what it was. He'd done Greek at school and what I'd found was a copy of Ovid's Metamorphoses published in fourteen ninety-eight.”

Daniel and Johann were together that night so Tony was in with me. I said he'd sparked off quite a discussion about books. I said I didn't think his parents realised that there were some very valuable old books. He laughed. “And not all old books are valuable,” he said, “I guess ninety per cent of the stuff on the shelves is old tat, beautifully bound.” He nudged me as we lay facing each other, “And what about your valuable little hoard. Bet you and those boys have been wanking nineteen to the dozen over the illustrations, eh? Where are they? They're not out and around?”

I laughed and said I hadn't even unpacked them except for Therese, but the boys had enjoyed my translation of the 'secret' book. He wanted to read the complete manuscript so I said he could. I had put both my typed-up copy of the French and the English translation I'd made in a parcel with a letter to Dr Blake. I asked him to post the parcel to Dr Blake as soon as he had finished reading it. Also, if he thought any of my translation read clunkily, would he make a note and include the notes with the letter. I then showed him how Robin had pleasured young James the wood-boy as it was said in the manuscript that Robin had the 'longest and most powerful broadsword of them all' while James boasted 'he was the champion of those who could endure and enjoy and give most pleasure to such as Robin famed,' ...pour sa vigueur et sa puissance..., 'for his potency and power'. Why he called me a boastful toad I don't know!

Pa had come up trumps again. Somehow he'd got us a wodge of Belgian francs as well as German marks so we were able to get a reasonable meal on Brussels station before getting on the train to Cologne. Customs and passport checkers didn't bother with four lads, poor students, three different types of passports, so at six in the morning we caught our next train which trundled up the Rhine valley toward Bingen. Wow, when we arrived who should be there to greet us but Hans and a smaller version of himself, his brother Friedrich. What an emotional meeting. Hans was home and I was to visit. My German flooded back as I introduced the boys - Daniel had a little German but Friedrich spoke reasonable French - so after that it was all chat. Tony stood and grinned. Hans wanted to know about Ulvescott. He was sad that Bran had died. I knew Bran liked Hans because he often went to the barn to sit with Hans while he worked at his wood sawing and chopping. He asked about my friends and especially Flea. I heard Daniel saying that Friedrich and his younger brother must come to Paris and Friedrich said they also had been invited to Switzerland by Johann's mother. I just wondered. All these different nationalities, all friends immediately. Why did we have such things as wars?

Hans had his father's car and we managed to fit in, clutching such belongings which wouldn't fit in the boot. The welcome at Hans' and Friedrich's home, a large farm-house, was stupendous. Frau Zimmerman was large and blonde, just like the two brothers. We were enveloped in huge hugs. Hans' father and their younger brother appeared soon after as they had been delivering some animals to the market. His sisters were no longer at home, they had married and lived in Frankfurt and Karlsruhe.

We were tired but the excitement kept us going. We had a real German farmhouse lunch and were then taken by Hans on a tour of the district. More food in the evening and a stein of beer and I was ready for bed. I had a room to myself and for once I was glad. I slept like a log, or even two logs, I was so tired.

Frau Zimmerman said she couldn't repay the wonderful English people and those in Switzerland who had cared so much for her sons. Johann, Tony and I said we didn't need repaying. When people needed friends we were sure they could be found. Friedrich still had a bad leg though it was now well-healed and he walked with hardly a limp. He had been shot through the calf of his left leg and part of the muscle had been destroyed and had been badly infected. Nevertheless, he had walked the best part of five hundred miles to get home. Hans was very protective of him and both were studying Engineering. We met Hans' fiancee who was also large and jolly. The younger brother was a quiet lad. He wanted to work on the farm and take over the running from his father.

What we did enjoy very much was the German beer! After a litre and a half of that, young Daniel was giggling so much we thought he would pee himself. Actually, walking back from the bierhaus he excused himself and we heard him noisily pissing in the bushes. “Little boys with little bladders!” was the taunt. It rebounded on Johann and me as both of us had to get up in the night. We bumped into each other on the way to the lav from our separate rooms. Both of us were still slightly drunk and stood side by side, arms round each other's shoulders carefully aiming - my order “Foreskins withdraw!” set us off giggling, too. No, we didn't miss!

We spent an extra day roaming around. Because we had the Student Tickets we were able to travel anywhere by train. Hans and Friedrich took us to Frankfurt and we met their eldest sister. She had two young boys now and Uncle Hans was most popular. What got to us was the devastation caused by the War. But, there seemed to be a great determination to rebuild..

We left for Strasbourg on the next Tuesday. We managed to find a small Pension just by the Cathedral. We had a large room with a double bed and two singles. Our first visit was to find the church where my and Johann's Grandfather had preached. The old custodian remembered Le Professeur and we sat and contemplated the ornate rood screen in the austere interior of the large building. It seemed strange that only a few years previously my own Grandfather had stood in that pulpit and my mother and her sisters had sat and listened to him.

We set off the next day for the visit to Barr and again had such a marvellous welcome. Both the sisters were there, now both widows and I think we four lads were looked on as honorary sons. Ma had given me letters for them both and pieces of Wedgwood china as well. Luckily the pieces were intact! One of the sisters gave me a French Bible that had belonged to my Grandfather. I said I would give it to my mother as she had very little to remind her of her early years. They did let slip that both had had scary times during the War and Daniel nodded sagely. We found that the Cathedral in Strasbourg had been closed all through the War by the Nazis, adorned with a swastika, and had only recently been reopened properly as it had been damaged by Allied bombs towards the end of the War. A great attraction was the astronomical clock. Also, we had noticed that streets had both German and French names still.

The next day we explored La Petite France, the medieval part of Strasbourg. I found a second church, St Thomas, and Ma had said her father sometimes took services there. A strange place, with a huge carving to Marshal de Saxe. There was so much to see and I was glad that the others seemed enthusiastic as well. They were very enthusiastic when we had Strasbourg goose for our evening meal on Friday. They were especially enthusiastic, too, after three bottles of wine between us, to thank their poor old cousin and friend, whose feet must ache so much after all that walking - and whose cock was pleasantly aching after everyone had had a final nightcap! I had the pleasure of three nightcaps!

So, on to Neuchatel. Aunt Lilian was there waiting with the car at the station. She stared when she saw her son Johann. Now kitted out like a young Englishman on holiday, sandals (no socks!), smart khaki shorts, tanned legs and a green shirt - and, she averred, at least an inch taller. I couldn't tell her his cock was now a full six and three-quarter inches which was at least an inch longer than when I had first met him. She welcomed Daniel who she said reminded her so much of her father in the early photographs. I, as the patriarch, stood back. Tony smirked at my serious countenance. Then she hugged me and cried a bit. She still remembered Kats, as I did every day, who had made such an impression when staying on our honeymoon. I had to tell her that Francis and James were well and, yes, at some time I would bring them with me. She welcomed Tony once more and reminded him she wanted to hear him sing. She also had news. Ma had telephoned to say that Penelope Louise Cameron Thomson, daughter of Lachs and Audrey was born earlier in the week on the eighteenth. I found a suitable card and sent it to Audrey's parents' address somewhere in Surrey. Gosh, a baby and she was going off to America to make the film in November! I wondered what Lachs would do?

Daniel, Tony and I had just under a week with the family. A week crowded with boat-trips, cable-car trips, train-trips! We had a meal at the hotel where Pascal was now working full-time during the University holiday. He was studying Economics and wanted to take over the hotel with his elder brother at some time. Young Walter, now sixteen and a bit, was a beautiful boy. Not quite so shy as before and on the Wednesday he came with us for a boat-trip on the lake. Daniel and Johann teased him unmercifully, but having two older brothers he knew to take it all in his stride. We heard that both Heinrich and Hubert were in the police force. We could almost hear the clicking of heels! Achtung!!

We actually visited Johann's grandfather twice. I remembered that elegant chalet he now lived in, so different from that other monstrosity. He was mellower and was intrigued about Daniel's place in my family and how I had discovered it. I didn't actually say I discovered it after we'd had a very intense sex session in bed, in fact, Daniel explained it by saying he had just told me of the way his parent's names fitted. Perhaps my playing of Brahms, Beethoven and Faure helped him to mellow even more! Actually, the old boy must have been getting very generous in his old age as he gave Daniel an identical bank pass book to the ones he'd given Johann and me and said we would all find there was something extra for us. When Daniel showed us the entry in his I did a quick calculation of what ten thousand Swiss francs was worth in English money.

That night, after Daniel had peered for the thirty-thousandth time at his pass-book, shaking his head in disbelief at his good fortune, that young Fontane and this slightly older Fontane showed the third Fontane how a combined 'jeux des semences' cemented family ties. Tony smiled and gave us his blessings as well.

Poor Johann. When we first arrived his father handed him a missive calling him up into the Swiss Army for his two year stint. Luckily, as he was at the University he would be allowed to train at weekends but there were other parades during the week. I volunteered to break one of his legs and Daniel said we wouldn't need to do that because his eyesight must surely be too bad to see to fire a rifle because of.... Johann was a strong boy and both Daniel and I were quickly flat on our backs on the bed, clutching each other and laughing so much. Johann had an easy task in dealing with us. We then jointly worsened his eyesight and when we three said goodbye to him, for the present, on Neuchatel Station on Saturday the twenty-ninth he whispered he thought he could still read small print.

Sunday the thirtieth of September I celebrated my twenty-second birthday. Monsieur and Madame took Daniel and me out to a very posh restaurant in the centre of Paris for dinner to celebrate that and other things. Monsieur was very pleased, not only to have his son back home, but he had been awarded a very high officership of the Legion d'Honneur.

What a year! But what efforts I must put into achieving things during this next one. This started straight away. I had to write up as much of my thesis as possible by Easter. I still had a mountain of books to read and most of them were as dry as dust and more than repetitious. I actually got the Librarian I usually dealt with faintly interested in the findings I had made concerning Garthorpe. He let me have a look at the catalogue for 'L'enfer', the naughty books catalogue, and there were my ten! I didn't tell him I had each of them beautifully bound. I checked the manuscript and my transcript of it. Yes, I had made a few errors because of the haste I had been in.

News from home included that of the General Election where the Tories under Mr Churchill as Prime Minister were now in charge. Uncle Edward must be popular, he had an increased majority. Mr Parker was also re-elected but had his majority reduced. There was still rationing of many things and a lot of unrest. Some people were saying they did better when the War was on. The French weren't much better either, from the grumbles that Monsieur brought home from the office. It was most enlightening hearing how things were coped with at a high level especially with the rumours of a change of government.

Actually the twelve weeks went quickly. Daniel and I talked together most evenings. I checked his English and he read my essays I wrote for my L es L. We did not indulge at all until the week before I was due to return to England for Christmas. Again, we spent a long weekend at the flat. It seemed odd but Monsieur practically asked us to use it. He said if no one stayed then it would go to rack and ruin. Madame enlightened us. That weekend there were to be special meetings for the ratification of the Schuman Plan dealing with French and German industries and they were having to accommodate several important people who did not want to stay in Paris. Would I mind my room being used?

On that visit to the flat Daniel initiated everything. I let him as he was so passionate. The first night, Thursday, we fucked each other three times and hardly slept all night as we took everything very, very slowly. Neither of us went to the University or the Library on Friday, we just lay savouring each other's company and bodies until hunger drove us out in the evening for a tremendous meal. I lost count of the number of times we raised each other to just before a climax until neither of us could contain ourselves any longer. I think I came three times more, each time so much more intense than before. After supper we returned, replete and slept spooned together until next morning when, between seven o'clock and noon, we fucked each other three times again. Daniel just couldn't get enough. He was moaning and writhing and urging me on all the time. Luckily the flat below was empty as any neighbours would have thought there were at least half a dozen ardent lovers above. We went for a trip on the Seine that afternoon and ate that evening at a small restaurant where Daniel said the truffles grated over would give us plenty of energy again. We just caressed each other in bed that night until, head to groin we took each other's fountains of seed and shared them and slept. Truffles or not, the feelings for both of us were so immense.

We didn't know what Madame la Tricoteuse made of us. Our comings and goings were erratic over that weekend, not like our other comings and goings which were many and never erratic. We did go to our respective duties on Monday, after making sure neither of us had any spunk left in our well-drained glands before our other breakfast, and when we met at five to pack up and go back to Ivry, Madame smiled as I handed her a good-sized note. The old bat thanked me and said that Monsieur Julien and his friend, obviously male, had been there the weekend before but I was so generous!

This set Daniel off on the train as he never knew that Julien had used the flat. He was rather concerned in case Julien had walked in on us while we were 'a quatre pattes', on all-fours, which was his own euphemism for 'you know what'. I just said I expect Julien would have liked to have joined in and if his friend was half as good looking as Daniel I wouldn't have minded giving him a good English 'dix-huit centimetres'. Daniel looked rather shocked, then hurt. “We were there, for us!” he said emphatically, in English! He obviously liked my English seven inches. I just opened my mouth and waggled my tongue tip between my lips. He squirmed on his seat. My tongue tip on the rim of his cock caused the hardest and strongest of erections. Just the sight was doing the same. One of my psychological pals at Clare had told me about Pavlov and his dogs! I winked at Dodo and mouthed, 'Later!'.

That night I broke my resolve not to have sex with Daniel under his parents' roof. We did. He received my seven inches as he liked it, slowly and deeply within him. I received him as I liked him, slowly and fully in my mouth. We slept holding each other until we woke early and I quietly left his bed and made my way to my room.

I stayed the night on my return the next day at the flat with Ma and Pa.. She was celebrating the publication of her fifth book and the announcement that the first was being filmed in February and Antony Milverton was playing the role of the assistant to Inspector Buck, Sergeant Prentice. Pa said I was to watch the New Year's Honours List as Uncle Dick was rumoured to be in it. Ma wanted a first-hand account of the late summer trip. She had had such heart-felt letters from Hans' mother, from her two cousins and from her sister Lilian. I said the whole trip was such an eye-opener and she had better prepare herself for plenty of visitors. I said I imagined her in that church on a Sunday in Strasbourg and that the verger had remembered Grandfather and that I felt very moved. More tears were shed when I gave her the Bible. She said it was a pity I didn't know my Grandfather as he would have been very proud of me as well as his other grandsons.

The Marchams were going to have a house-full of visitors as well for Christmas as Pa and Ma were coming to Kerslake to join us. Pa said he heard good reports of the way Tony was working up at Garthorpe Hall. Lord Harford was full of praise for him and also the way he kept Charley from straying off to the race-tracks. He had also learned to ride! I knew he liked a bit of strong flesh between his legs and now he was copying the young fillies he was always laughing about. ' 'Orgasms With and Without Insertion!', a Practical Handbook, by Antony Marcham BA (Cantab).' I would have to suggest it to him!

I went straight up to Cambridge for a couple of days. Willy was unctuousness itself now. Mr Mason was finally retiring, 'worn out by over-work' was the accepted reason but 'lifting the elbow' was more correct. Willy was under consideration for the Head Porter's job. The youngest in history. I knew he had the Dean's support and the Chaplain's blessing and now Mr Phelips had gone he had a good chance. The story was that Willy had rather overdone the Jeyes' Fluid and Mr Phelips had complained that the combination of the uriniferous and the phenolic odours gave him a headache and Willy had been overheard saying he could clean the next load of piss off his own doorstep himself, which didn't endear him to Mr Phelips' flinty heart. Then, with Jem being demobbed by Easter the lad might come in for promotion to Assistant Porter. Keep it in the family!

Dr Blake was very sad. Poor old Peter, the farting canary was no more. Two of the dons had found him one morning stretched out as if asleep by his favourite spot in the Fellows' Garden. Two of the students had later left a cage with a real canary outside his door. With a note, 'RIP Peter'. He knew there were two as he'd seen them from his window. Two of the boaties. He had recognised them and had sent a note of thanks. Even the boaties appreciated a bit of donnish eccentricity and Dr Blake and the canary-like dog were a legend. The canary was by his desk. I wondered if some applicant might get his place by some apposite remark when the bird sang.

Anyway, he had news for me. His friend, one of the classics dons at Pembroke, had had a competition to see who could identify my Latin quotes and tags. Dr Blake said it had been entered into with enthusiasm and I would have to reward that don in particular in some way. He thought he had a full list. He handed me several sheets of paper. There were about twenty quotations, some lengthy like Allan's pipe, some a mere phrase as short as Castor and Pollux's young brother's tool. Luckily translations were also included.

The chapter title later, 'Corruptor iuventutis', three of them identified as Cicero also, in Catilinam, two were adamant it meant 'corrupter of innocence', the third had pencilled in 'bugger' but rubbed it out and written 'boy-fancier' instead. All three thought that the other heading, 'Ardens in cupiditatibus' came from Sallust, the Bellum Catilinae, and averaged out as 'passionate in his lust'. That source was also quoted for 'psallare et saltare elegantius' which my author had shortened, but in toto (my Latin improving?), they all said meant 'plucking the lyre and dancing with taste'. 'Wanking with feeling' was more to my taste and fitted the context better! Oh! When Milord stroked Allan's hair and smiled fondly at him the quote 'maxima debetur puero reverentia' was given as 'the greatest reverence is the prerogative of a boy'. After extolling Allan's beauty and his attributes, plus the other boys as well, I could see the import of that quote. All said it was from Juvenal.

The epithets hurled at each other by Mars and James in their spat over archery scores were most interesting, the least nasty seemed to be 'Saeve puer' 'cruel boy', or more simply 'brute!' and was from Ovid, Amores I. 'Stulte', or 'thickhead', came from Ovid again but in Amores II. 'Vervex' was 'mutton-head' from Petronius' Satyricon most probably. 'Hircus', was 'he-goat'. I laughed as 'ram' or 'stinker' also seemed to sum that up nicely. The attributions were several. 'Quid nunc stupes tanquam hircus' from Petronius' Satyricon again, meaning 'Why are you staring at me like a randy goat' to the one I thought best, 'fu, oboluisti alium, germana inluvies, hircus, hara suis!' from Plautus, Miles Gloriosus, which I thought I could apply to a few obnoxious individuals I knew, 'Phew, garlic stinker, dung-heap, goat stench, pig sty!'

'Pathice' caused slight difficulty I saw, one don had scribbled 'kept boy' another 'catamite', both had Catullus Poem 16. There was a long gloss on 'cinaede' because the first don had said it was from the same poem and originally meant 'dancer', but had a rather coarse meaning as well, the second had simply written 'little sod'. The 'pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo' was identified as being from the same poem. There was a bit of reluctance over that one, I took the meanings of 'both top and bottom' and 'I'll have you both up and down' as being slightly euphemistic for 'You'll get it both ends, suck and fuck!'.

'Demisisti gladius in jugulum' was generally given as a variation on 'Your sword is buried in my throat' and was identified as Plautus, from Mercator. Not one of them put anything about sucking dick, which the librarian at the Bib Nat had hinted at immediately. I liked the phrase from Horace Episode, 12, 'Inachiam ter nocte potes, mihi semper ad unum mollis opus' 'You can have Inachia three times a night, but with me not even once can you act...' as that had never been a problem with me.

My guess about 'patente porta' as being 'backside' was correct but the source was most interesting. One don wrote almost a little essay explaining that adulterers, if caught, were punished by having a rather nasty suppository inserted, concocted from a bony fish like a mullet, 'mugil', and hot radishes. He also explained that trainers of horses used a 'feague', a plug of ginger, in the same way to make their horses run faster. He quoted from Captain Francis Groses's Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1796) which stated that as well as ginger, 'formerly, it is said, a live eel, to make him lively and carry his tail well'. My opinion of some dons rose - a good sense of humour. All four who had taken part identified it as a quote from Catullus again, Poem 15, 'Attractis pedibus, patente porta, percurrent raphanique mugilesque!' 'Feet tied and backside ready open, a quick-acting suppository will be shoved in!' Catullus seemed to be the favourite of my plagiarist. Quotes about nasty suppositories must stick in the mind, too, as well as the arse! And a live eel? Ugh! 'Pene languido senis', 'an old man's organ', as one rather carefully put it, came from his Poem 25. 'Limp dick' was what I thought of. I wondered why my author hadn't taken the first bit of the quote as well, 'mollior cuniculi capillo', 'softer than rabbit's fur' when dealing with Allan's silky-skinned shaft?

The final Latin quote was the last straw. Right at the end of the manuscript as the two lads left and the two new ones entered there was the longest quote: 'Adde quod ingenues didicisse fideliter artes emollit mores nec sinit esse feros'. All four had identified it as Ovid, from Epistulae Ex Ponto. I gave a wry smile as I got the general consensus of the meaning: 'Add that to have studied the liberal arts with diligence perfects one's manners without allowing them to be unseemly'. Unseemly, vulgar, coarse? Someone had their tongue in their cheek! At least the lads in the story had been liberal with their arts!

He looked very serious then. “That's the next thing,” he said, quietly. “The college is expanding because we are over-loaded with applicants and we're also losing people to the new universities. The Master and Council are setting up several new Fellowships. There's at least one in Modern Languages. You have been recommended already.” He shook his head. “Not by me, wouldn't be politic. You've been noticed by others.” He smiled. “You write your research up both for the Fellowship and for the doctorate.”

“Try it and see. Now let's have a look at that effort of yours. Your friend from King's delivered it personally. We had quite a chat. He's an interesting young man as well. Bobby Lascelles has taken to him and thinks he's got a lot of potential. Takes the initiative and that counts a lot for Bobby,” he smiled again, “I've told him to aim for the doctorate too.”

'My effort' was then pulled to pieces. If I was going to use the eighteenth century idiom in English I had to get it right. This page? This paragraph? What about this sentence here? And that one? Mr Marcham would prove useful, he had made a few very cogent suggestions, perhaps we should get together over the Christmas period and iron out the infelicities, he has quite a flair for the niceties of phrasing, much more than that old bore Leavis who wouldn't know a pikestaff from a pickerel. As Leavis had been both an idol and a person of awe to Tony I wondered what had irked Dr Blake about him? I would have to find out what a pickerel was, too!

As usual at noon the inevitable tap on the door, the covered tray and the same red-haired youth, who announced that chef had included some smoked salmon from Mr MacLeish who had been so pleased his son had passed his degree. Hector MacLeish had crossed my path. An affable young man on the next stair. If rugger and whisky were subjects for a degree course, plus a knowledge of every dirty rugger song, then 'Tosser' would have been awarded the highest honours rather than the scraped Third he managed in History. He was also reputed to wear two jockstraps padded with handkerchiefs to give the opposing forwards something to feast their eyes on when preparing for a scrum-down. The real reason, so one of his buddies confided, was that his dick was red raw from the attentions he paid it, so it needed protection. He'd acquired the nickname early at Public School whose inhabitants had marvelled at the seemingly unceasing bouts of self-abuse by the gap-toothed newcomer of thirteen and a half years - so the habit had started young! Still he was a good guy and I'd heard he'd taken a commission in the Army.

Ouch! If I thought Dr Blake was rough on me, the first student, doing a BPhil like Tony, got a real roasting. I knew several of the sources he was citing so when Dr Blake had finished with him he turned to me and asked if I had anything to add - add, I noticed - I asked about one article the lad had quoted from and we had quite a nice, quiet conversation about it. I knew the author had made one particular assumption which he hadn't backed up and I said so. The lad's eyes lit up as he said he had noted the same and had found some evidence. His jaw dropped a bit when I said what the evidence was and cited a second article as well. I grinned and said he could have it for free, it wasn't my period.

The second one was too way out for me. He was not only translating a set of early medieval love poems sung by troubadours but was also doing a very detailed analysis of metre and rhythm in the original and matching all this with a manuscript of very early music. He was much older, in his thirties and from his looks I would have said he was Jewish. I said little but asked in the end where the poems and the music manuscripts were found. He smiled and said he had found them when in a monastery in Provence. I must have looked puzzled. Dr Blake smiled.

The story was fascinating. Harvey had taken his degree in French before the War, was called up and had been in the RAF but was shot down in 1942 over France. He'd parachuted into the grounds of a monastery in Provence and had spent the rest of the War being sheltered by the monks as a pseudo-lay brother wearing the regulation brown habit, cataloguing their extensive library. He had come across the manuscripts and the friars had allowed him to copy them.

There was a note in my pigeon-hole in the Porter's Lodge when I had finished being grilled a bit more by Dr Blake. I would have to mention 'pots de chambre' or 'vases de nuit' sometime! The note was from the first lad inviting me for a drink in his rooms. I found Davy, who took my note inviting him in turn for a meal at the Blue Boar - I thought my validation from Lord Harford would still be extant. It was. Old Bert didn't even pick it up but just glanced at it.

The lad was curious but never asked. We had a long chat and he said he was teaching part-time at a new school in Cambridge but was applying for jobs in various universities. He said it was rumoured I was in for one of the Fellowships. I said I hadn't even known until today that new Fellowships were being created. He said the Cambridge grape-vine was a-buzz and he'd heard the tale from a friend who'd been at Emmanuel. I smiled ruefully and said I had a long way to go before contemplating anything. He then dropped another bombshell. What had I found because another pal had been back to Pembroke and there were Classics dons arguing and he'd heard my name mentioned? I said it was just a manuscript I'd come across with Latin tags and quotes and as my Latin was rudimentary, help was needed. Oh, blast! Say no more! He eyed me suspiciously but said nothing more himself. That was, until we were walking back to college, replete, with two gins and a half bottle of wine each helping our dinners digest.

“My pal heard them laughing and saying Catullus was a dirty old man. I know because we had both done Latin at Higher Schools and our beak at school use to say there was more hidden under the carpet than appeared in the school books. He gave us a few passages to translate and Geordie got a right wigging for saying 'Every time he fucks her..' for ' 'nam quotiens futuit..' Actually, its good and old Packer had to admit it in the end. So what did you find?”

As soon as I got home in Kerslake the next afternoon Francis demanded where had I been as he needed a wee-wee! Gone for three and a bit months and all my son wants me for is as a guide to the lav. He said he was in charge with Milly as Maggy had taken James to the clinic for a check-up. Milly turned out to be the teenage daughter of new neighbours, baby-sitting for the afternoon. A good example of a horsey female as she was engrossed in the latest copy of Horse and Hound as 'Daddy has promised me a new pony for Christmas'. From the size of her I surmised she had probably eaten the previous one, with double helpings of chips and mashed potatoes as well. Still she was a jolly soul and listened patiently to all Francis's demands except he wasn't allowing any strange female to take him to the lav.

“Where's Johann?” came next. I explained he was in Switzerland. “Is he going to the island?” I had to think that one out. Switzerland and the Swiss Family Robinson. Johann had listened while Francis had read it to him several times. I said one was a story but Johann actually lived in Switzerland. “Uncle Tony's coming home tomorrow. I like Uncle Tony best of all.”

Tony was full of news when he arrived back. He was almost half way through the cataloguing, helped with the typing of lists by a retired school-mistress who cycled in from the village three mornings a week. He'd found a little cache of late nineteenth century porn which Lord Harford had openly said was a general thing in a gentleman's cabinet of curiosities at the time. His grandfather had kept a couple of mistresses and fathered at least three bastards, so he assumed the books were his. Again, beautifully bound and from the look of them, well-read. Tony said Charley was miffed as he had never found them. His only excursions into the library were when he was sent there to keep him quiet as a small boy before he was shipped off to boarding school hence Winnie the Pooh and Wind in the Willows. His other bit of news was that he had recognised Gussie, the next brother. He'd been a guest at two of Perce's cousin's parties. He knew it was him as he had no top joint on the little finger of his left hand. So Gussie....? I raised my eyebrows at Tony. He smiled, “Captain in the Blues and Royals. Quite unobservant, hasn't a clue I know him! Charley's a bit scared of him.”

No wonder. From Jem's revelations Charley had lost his virginity to Gussie and was still being pursued. I would wait for more revelations. I asked Tony about his work and he said he had decided to go on with his research, in fact, Garthorpe Hall had quite a few obscure novels on the shelves. Remaindered stock he thought but useful as extra padding! He said he didn't realise how many novels of the time featured clergy and cathedral closes. He had come to the conclusion that most of the daughters of deans had spent their time concocting these awful sagas. He said he had been concocting a tale as well. He'd completed about half but was going to write as much more as possible over Christmas as my mother had said she'd show it to Mr Blane. How did Ma know. Simple. She and Pa had been to Garthorpe Hall so Pa could talk to Lord Harford in private. Also, I had better watch it. Charley had spilled the beans about the manuscript!

As Gussie was there as well, Charley had imbibed a little too much to calm his nerves and had asked Ma if she'd helped me translate the manuscript before he had the sense to realise I would hardly ask my mother for help with 'ils les foutent comme deux lapereaux'. Oh God! I was in for a grilling from Ma!

There was another week before Christmas so, with the two boys being entertained by Maggy and Milly, Tony and I were able to get on with our work. I had two essays to hand in for the Sorbonne course and had to read Pride and Prejudice again, with notes from Tony, for my English group I was tutoring there. I tidied up two more chapters of my thesis and was on the final stages of putting my three authors in the context of their lives just before and after the Revolution. Tony was very busy not only writing up more of his own thesis but writing his 'novel'. I read the first six or so chapters in his abominable handwriting before he took them to the typist in his father's office. I asked him about the title 'To Dance and Skylark' and he said it was part of an old naval command for rest and recreation. The story was of two brothers who had survived the Great War and was the tale of their disparate lives. It was full of humour and of pathos. I was struck by the deft way he was able to convey a character or a scene in a few words. It was a work, to me, of true imagination. I was astounded. Where did the ideas come from. He was twenty-two and writing a book with the assurance of someone, I would have thought, much older. When I asked him, he just tapped his head. 'It's all in there and I've got ideas for the next one, too!'.

We were sitting in my room soon after I'd collected him from the station. We had said little on the way to the house other than the usual pleasantries. I congratulated him both on the birth of his daughter and on his promotion to Captain. He'd dumped his bags in my room as, per usual, we were going to share. He looked less soldier-like than usual. One reason was he was in civilian clothes. I asked how he was getting on as Flea had said he was being seconded to the War Office.

He shook his head. “I know, I know,” he said with mock weariness, “You should hear what Edward says! Anyway that's it and that's all I can tell you. And you haven't even heard that. Promise?” I nodded. “My office has 'Supplies' on the door and three old boots on the filing cabinet in case anyone asks what we're doing.”

Lachs was just the same on the surface, but I sensed there was an underlying worry. I didn't enquire. If it was to do with his work I couldn't enquire. If it was to do with his private life he would tell me in his own good time. We talked on and he did become more relaxed. Mrs Marcham had arranged a really nice dinner in his honour and Francis and James were entranced with Uncle Lachs.

He didn't unburden himself as we lay and talked in bed that night. We reminisced about our earlier days. He'd heard from Georgie who was now in his third year at Harvard and doing well. He had been working in a fast food restaurant in Boston all summer and said he got more tips because of his 'cute Britisher accent'. We laughed and said we hoped it wasn't his Suffolk one or he might end in Boston harbour like the tea. Flea seemed to be flying all over the place and was training on jets abroad somewhere. I sensed Lachs was lonely. We just slept soundly. He said in the morning he only hoped he and Audrey could settle down somewhere sometime. I said if he ever needed to talk, or ever needed me, just ask. I knew it would be the same for me. We hugged each other but nothing more.

Before he went he said he had something for me from Sayed. It was a small curved dagger with a note that indicated he and Lachs had made a bond and that Flea and I were included. He said he had valued deeply the way he had been accepted by the whole family. Family ties were important. I didn't ask, but as I held the beautifully crafted object, Lachs whispered, “We were as one!”.

Pa and Ma came up from London on Sunday the twenty-third laden with presents which were quickly placed under the Christmas tree before Francis had a chance to pry. Christmas Eve we all went, including Francis and James, to Midnight Mass as Tony had been asked to sing. I think we were all deeply moved by his beautiful voice. He sang the solo of 'Three Kings from Persian lands afar' with the organ and wordless choir singing the underlying chorale. I had played it for him when he practised, but in church that night it sounded so ethereal. I wondered why I could not believe.

Christmas Day was a riot, especially when Cleggy, Nobbo and Hal Beechley turned up mid-morning and pretended to be carol singers, much to the amusement of the boys. Oh Gosh, Cleggy and Nobbo were now in their fifth year of medical training and Hal had joined the Royal Army Medical Corps and was a Corporal at the depot near Aldershot. Two glasses of hot punch later they departed and we prepared for Christmas Dinner.

What could I say. I could hardly say outright, in mixed company, that the main part of it consisted of descriptions of husky young lads wanking, sucking and fucking to the general delight of all involved and that said manuscript had been written for the delectation of two of my friend Charley's ancestors. I prevaricated and said it was a manuscript of a rather dubious sort written by one of the authors I was studying name of Jean-Antoine Leferreur. It just so happened he had met and corresponded with ancestors of Charley who had got burnt up in a big bonfire in Jamaica.

She handed me three closely written sheets and a fourth one with what looked like a table of contents on it. The letter was in French - good easy French to read and I scanned the content quickly. He sent greetings first and said he was sorry he hadn't been able to spend more time with us boys on our visit but he'd been tied up writing the contracts for a big deal. He said we'd absolutely charmed his father who was behind the big deal and if it worked was set to increase his already considerable fortune. Being a lawyer Uncle Johann didn't say this in so many words but, reading between the lines.....! He had been instructed to see the three of us had our accounts topped up regularly and I was to be told to check with the Cambridge representatives of the Swiss Bank. Oh, I had more or less forgotten about the pass book.

He then went on to say that a friend, who was French and a lecturer at the University in Neuchatel, had investigated my mother's and Aunt Lilian's family tree a bit further. He had found out two further generations back in the Fontane family and one of the people was well-known at the time of the Revolution and was very lucky not to have lost his head. This was because he'd written a couple of books which could have been construed as being pro-Monarchy....... I stared. One of my authors had been arrested but had been freed and more or less exiled to the country. Oh. No! It was Jean-Antoine the author of the 'secret book'!

I scrambled through the rest of the letter which detailed how this friend had contacted the cure of the church in the village where Jean-Antoine had died and had been sent details of his marriage years before and the baptisms of his children and marriages of his surviving daughters. I turned to the last page, the table of contents turned out to be a fragment of a family tree:

I looked at Ma. “That's him!” I yelled out for Tony who came scurrying and nearly passed out when he had digested the contents of the letter. Lunch was forgotten. The whole family congregated round the kitchen table. The next half-hour was just a mess of trying to work out what all this meant. I had chosen the three authors because I had heard of one - not Jean-Antoine - during a lecture and then discovered the three were friends. I had thought it a good idea to see how their books intersected as I had noted that my chosen one had used references to Shakespeare's and Ben Jonson's plays and then had discovered Jean-Antoine's plagiarism of the later English book. All went from there. Now Jean-Antoine was one of my ancestors!

When we had finished going through the tree Tony was howling with laughter. I knew why. He had read the manuscript. At least, no one had mentioned the manuscript yet today. I explained that Jean-Antoine had been a friend and correspondent of George and Arthur Lascelles and I had found letters to and from the trio at the Bib Nat and at Garthorpe. Luckily things got a bit quieter after that and we did get lunch. However, I wasn't to be let off so lightly.

He laughed. “Believe me, I can guess. Bobbie Lascelles told me when we were up there you found this dirty book in Paris. He's actually highly delighted. He said it'll put his stock up no end with the Defence crowd and with his pals at the club!” He looked at me and grinned. “Boys, eh?”

“I guessed as much when he said those two had been exported to Jamaica because of shenanigans with stable-boys,” He must have seen the look on my face. Pa about to discuss such things. “Oh, come off it, Jacko, boys have been boys from time immemorial and I bet you've seen a thing or two!”

I saw Pa come downstairs and go into the dining-room where Ma was helping Mrs Marcham prepare the table for supper. Mrs Marcham was busy getting glasses from the kitchen when I heard a startled “What!” from Ma and then a burst of laughter from both. Tony looked at me and grinned.

Ma didn't ask anything else but I did get in a dig about horror story writers in the family. Actually Ma's last book wasn't bad - snide - Inspector Buck solved his cases well. And, there was the excitement of the filming to come. She said she had nothing to do with the film-script but when she had read it through it seemed all right. At least she was getting a percentage of the film rights which Mr Blane had advised to stick out for rather than a lump sum.

I had to tell Tony about the conversation with Pa and that night we celebrated in my bed as Allan the coney-catcher had with John the blacksmith when they 'lavished equal attention upon each other's most divine attributes of pipe and...' Baguette de tambour '....drumstick'! My drumstick certainly battered his drum that night! And having sampled tasty baguettes of a generous size in Paris, Tony had nothing to grumble about for what he received for his first course - boastful me!!

Ma and Pa went back to London, with Pa in a very good mood. He kept looking at me and grinning. Ma was also in a good mood. She shook her head and said she never knew her four times great-grandfather was such a man. I said he was an author, like her, full stop! She looked at me and screwed her eyes up. But, she did give me a cheque for a hundred pounds!

Tony and I were slaving away, both entertaining the boys and getting on with our work, when Mrs Marcham came up with the bright idea of us taking young Francis for a couple of days to Ulvescott. The real reason was to check on the setting up of two furniture making units in two of the barns using wood sawn by the saw-mill. Gerald Marcham had taken up Bruce's suggestion with alacrity and had readily found applicants for the spaces. Would we check with Mrs Crossley that all was going well and that electricity had been laid on and the spaces cleared ready for occupation in February.

Mrs Crossley cried when we arrived. She was really overwhelmed because she said that Francis looked just like Piers when he was that age. Miss P said the likeness was uncanny and Francis, on seeing the photos on the wall and in the frames, kept saying 'Daddy'. Of course, I had to give Mrs Crossley the latest news - bowdlerised, of course - of the connections Uncle Johann's friend had found between the family and one of the authors in my thesis. She went off shaking her head and came back with a small painting of a young woman's head and shoulders.

Daniel was at Ivry station when I arrived, still feeling queasy after a very rough channel crossing. On the way to the house I asked if everyone was home. He nodded. His father took one look at my rather pale green features and produced 'les fortifiants'. After one swig and coughing my heart up I felt much better. I said I had news but I'd better unpack some things first. Ma had sent Madame a beautiful Coalport plate as I knew she prized such things and as she undid the box I produced the extended family tree. There was much gesticulation and waving of arms and I was hugged at least five times by Madame, three times by Monsieur and when Daniel hugged me I got the benefit of a sturdy 'baguette' pressed against me, too. That evening's meal was quite alcoholic. I saw Daniel swigging it down unimpeded by any sanctions from his father. Monsieur was also very pleased as he had been raised even further in the hierarchy as another French government had collapsed and they needed some pillars to prevent the whole edifice from falling.

My work and Daniel's studies progressed well that term. We spent most nights together and made sure the second bed looked as if was slept in. We loved each other quietly but with fervour. But we also spent two uninhibited weekends at the flat in Paris. Daniel at eighteen was how I remembered me, so passionate and ready to make love - not just fuck - and share his bodily gifts. I said that I hoped he would find a young lady to share his life and she would have no complaints about her man. He looked at me and grinned. “That will come, no doubt, but I'm learning how to love properly, now!” I wondered at his use of 'properly'? He'd said it in English so I took it at face value.

At the beginning of February we heard that King George VI had died and Britain had a Queen! Paris was strangely quiet. Many people, recognising I was British, came up to me in the street or in the library to offer their sympathy. We may be looked on as Perfidious Albion but under that facade was a genuine feeling of friendship. Even my librarian shrugged and flapped his hands and he was the most phlegmatic person I had ever met!

I gave in my final long essays and was given the date for my L es L viva next term. I completed the spade-work for my thesis and would present it in June. It would be several months in advance of the usual scheduled date but I was so happy with my work and found the intense sex life with my young cousin was a great spur. Daniel said the same and from the high marks he was awarded at each step of the way he was feeling exactly the same.

Daniel came back with me and stayed for the Easter holidays. We drove up to Westmorland in Mr Marcham's even newer car to collect Tony. Daniel was overwhelmed with the kindness of Lord and Lady Harford. He was overawed by Bruce and overjoyed with Travis, who he found was a possible Olympic fencer. They spent several hours fencing while Charley took over as butler. Lord Harford said the rascal had to earn his keep somehow and as long as he remembered he liked his gin with less tonic he would do quite well! As Charley was now, more or less, running the estate with Bruce as his right-hand man, he took all in his good-natured stride.

So my last term in Paris started with the feverish revision I decided to do because I had no idea what I might be asked at the viva. In the end it wasn't too bad. Two laconic, elderly Professors questioned me in French and English and once I started on my research they kept asking questions about that. The viva over-ran. I was ushered out and next day I read the pinned-up notice. I had passed. Cum laude or whatever. Daniel had seen the notice earlier and had telephoned his mother. Dinner that evening was at the Tour d'Argent in Paris. I hate to think what it must have cost! My night with Daniel after was perfect, too. No cost, sheer magnanimity of love and friendship. The Gallic coq and the English lion were as one.

I did a quick journey back to Cambridge over one weekend with the typed up submissions for the Fellowship and PhD and gave them to Willy with a cheque to get the copies bound and given to Dr Blake. I returned to Paris, as I still had my tutor group there to supervise, and just had to wait. If I wasn't successful I had no job. I suppose I could learn how to sell houses!