9.        Subterranean Explorations

The small side door was open when we arrived at the College having lugged our bags across Jesus Green and round to the entrance.  Old Albert was in command with a lad of about Tris's age hovering behind him.

     "Mr Price‑Williams, Mr Foster," he greeted us as we entered the Lodge.  "I hope the

Arundel was to your liking."  He turned to the lad behind him who was studiously ignoring

us.  "Mr Knott, you will conduct these gentlemen to Mr Fane‑Stuart's set and do not dawdle

on the way back."

     Mr Knott?  Formality.  The lad came round the desk.  He, too, was as smartly dressed

as his boss.  He picked up a soft round hat and put it on.

     "Gentlemen," he said in a most pleasant voice, "Please follow me."

     As we followed, clutching our bags, I looked carefully at his figure.  Yes, Charles had

been right, a neat, trim figure was set off by a nicely shaped rounded posterior.  I glanced at

Tris who pursed his lips.  He'd noticed as well.  Perhaps Charles should think of doing

Boadicea with a naked, woad‑painted Jason as an attendant?  Oh, yes, I remembered.  Jason.

My classical knowledge was limited but Jason and.... ..I remembered, Jason and the

Argonauts.  That knowledge was from a film seen on television ‑ all hunky, tanned and

muscled young men who'd given me several images for my nightly fantasies.  Yes, Jason in a

Golden Fleece with, what was her name?   Began with M?  Oh, Medea.  I could see myself as

the instigator of several more costume dramas, or un‑costumed as far as the young males

were concerned.

     By this time we had crossed the quad keeping to the flag‑stoned paths, careful not to

traverse the neat lawns with their warning notices about being only for senior members of the

college, and were ushered into the dark passageway.  Charles' door was ajar and 'naughty

young Knott', as I couldn't help labelling him, rapped sharply on it.

     "Come in, my dears, we are all assembled," Charles called out.

     Young Mr Knott stood back as Tris and I entered then followed us in.  Adam and Ivo

were already there, seated side by side on a settee, looking suitably prim and proper.  I also

noticed, draped across the backs of two upright dining chairs, two short, cream‑coloured,

pleated Greek tunics.

     "Ah, we are so glad to see you, welcome, and do take a seat."  He waved his be‑

ringed hands and indicated two unoccupied deep, easy chairs.  "Jason, dear, you may remove

your hat and the coffee is ready to be served.  Worry not about dear Albert, he has other

helpers at his beck and call and you do have to carry out the Servant's wishes at times."

     Jason disappeared off through a scarlet draped door.

     "And did you sleep well?" Charles had turned his attention to us.  I saw the amused

glance that Adam shot Ivo.

     "Like two little logs," said Tris, I felt not with too felicitous a choice of simile.  The

look Ivo gave Adam was priceless.  Like Charles and 'naughty young Knott', I would have to

reprimand them all severely.

     "Now to business," said Charles as Jason appeared bearing a tray with elegant mugs

of steaming coffee.  "Please help yourselves.  Milk, cream, sugar and young Jason brought

me in some of those nice Marks and Spencer biscuits he's particularly fond of."

     'Young Jason' was not fazed a bit and came round and delivered his wares with

aplomb.  When he'd finished Charles pointed to another chair and Jason sat with his own

coffee and a stack of biscuits.

     "Now lovely ones, we're to do a little exploring.  The Chapel is renowned for having

three secret passages which were forgotten for centuries until someone remembered at the

beginning of the last War and they became shelters and the stained glass and precious books

were stored there too."

     I saw Adam nodding.  "Pinch‑Bum says there are probably more as the Papists were

so persecuted they needed plenty of hiding places to continue their nefarious practices.  He

says the Chapel and the crypt could be opened up to the outside and we could let it out as a

disco and night club and earn a bit of needed income for the College."

     Charles positively bristled.  "I will not have that man's name mentioned in here and

you will not wind me up by repeating his most unnecessary opinions."

     Adam smiled.  "That's his view.  He's entitled to it but, like you, I don't agree."

     Charles smiled too.  "But his dangerous talk only serves to undermine confidence.  I

may only be here one more year as Servant of the Chapel.  You have two more years, and

Tristan and dear Mark will see out four years between them, but he is a Fellow of the College

and under the Statutes has tenure for life.  Who knows what seeds he can sow and what may

flourish from them in years to come? He spells danger in my book!"

     "That's for me, too," came the totally unexpected addition from Jason.  All eyes were

on him now.  "Yes, my family have worked for this place we know for over two hundred

years.  My great‑ grandmother was your Grandad's bed‑maker Mr Foster.  I've seen her lists

and I looked them up last night after what Mr Tomkins told me yesterday.   And he said he

was your Grandad, too, Mr Ivo and Mr Adam."  They nodded agreement.  "Yes, Mr George

Foster, Stair F, Room 6.  That's this stair and Mr McArdle has that room now."

     "Oh, Christ Almighty!" said Ivo and clapped his hand over his mouth.  "Sorry, but

that's Babyballs Bryce in our Grandad's room.  Are you sure?"

     Jason nodded.  "Yes, and when Mr Pennefather was a student here in 1891 he was in

the same room because that's in my..." He paused and mouthed silently, then smiled, "....my

Great‑greatgrandmother's book.  She fell pregnant by a student when she was sixteen and

never said who the father was, but she wasn't ever hard‑up so my Gran says."

     "Bloody Babyballs," said Adam, "I'll chop what he's got left off if he does anything

to that room."  He looked at his brother.  "At least we've got the double opposite.  I've never

been in that room but when he opens the door it stinks of horse‑rub and sweat."

      Jason piped up again.  "Mr McArdle won't allow anyone in.  He said if I went near

the place he'd kick the living shit out of my little Pom arse.  Sorry, sirs, but that was exactly

what he said and Mr Tomkins said I was to keep out of his way."  He picked up another

biscuit and popped it into his mouth.

     I thought it was a nice little Pom arse and the look on Tris's face told me he thought

so, too.  I waited for the next installment.

     "Jason dear, you do amaze me, you had not informed me of that little interchange,"

said Charles, "I forgive you this time but usually you are a positive fount of lovely

knowledge. I haven't forgotten when you told me your great‑grandfather knew where the key

of that locked cupboard in the Chapel was because there was a note about it  in his diary

which you'd found.  He was the helper to the Servant of the Chapel at the time, the

Honourable Luke Ponsonby, and the Honourable Luke had hidden the key behind the tablet

commemorating his clerical ancestor who was burnt at the stake for disobeying Bloody Mary.

We found two lovely chalices in the cupboard..."

     "...and two dirty books....."

     "Jason, dearest, do not speak ill of the dead, though I do admit he came to rather a

sticky end in a remand cell in Pentonville.  He had been found with two sailors, not dancing

the horn‑pipe, in Hyde Park the night before, and nobody checked..." He held up both hands.  

"...And the poor dear bled to death from whatever had been inserted...   ...Jason, you have

heard nothing!  Understand?"  He looked from one to the other of the rest of us.  "And what

would happen if you‑know‑who discovered such things and broadcast them far and wide!"

     I was curious.  "But how do you know?"

     Charles put his index finger by the side of his nose.  "The Servant of the Chapel is

privy to many secrets past and present, dearest one."  He smiled.  "To tell the truth,

successive Servants have kept a running record of events.  We have most but one or two of

the volumes are missing even though they have been stored in a safe place."  The finger was

raised again.  "Ask not, precious ones, my lips are sealed, and those of the Dean and

Chaplain are too."

     There was silence as we all digested this.  I thought through all we'd been told.  That

long family connection.  Charles as the last, so far, in a long line of Servants of the Chapel.

Mr Pennefather, coming here as a student in 1891 and staying on as a Fellow and dying in

1937.  Time did not seem to be so important in an institution such as this.  It seemed the

notion of tradition was a key factor and someone like Mr Finch‑Hampton could upset things

‑ upset the apple‑cart as it were.

     Charles was the first to speak again.  "Well, dearest ones, let us proceed on our

explorations."  Jason stood and started to collect the now‑empty mugs.  "Jason dear, you may

leave those for now.  I shall need your assistance as usual.  You know where the two torches

are.  I renewed the batteries  yesterday so we won't have that rather delicate incident again

when I had to lead you out of that small room."  He waved his hands again.  "The poor mite

is a wee bit claustrophobic, aren't you my sweet one?"  As Jason was as tall as Ivo and Adam

I wouldn't have called him a 'mite' but there!   Charles clapped his hands.  "We are ready?

Follow me."

     We all stood and looked at each other expectantly.  Charles unhooked a bunch of

large keys from a very elaborate fixture on the wall by the door.  "Come!" he beckoned.

     He and Jason led the way along the side path towards the Chapel.  One of the large

keys was used to unlock a small door in a side porch.  This was carefully locked behind us as

we filed through.  Charles had flicked a switch and very dim lights came on.  Towards the

end of the passageway we were in were three identical ancient wooden doors.  Above the

first was 'Chapel', the second had 'Vestry' but there was nothing above the third.  This one

he unlocked and flicked another switch.

     "Follow me down," he said, "Mind as the steps are old and rather narrow but there is

light.  These are the cellars and crypt which were used during the War."

     He led the way again and the Indian file followed him down.  I was last but one.

Jason followed me.  "Mr Tomkins says your Grandad was a good lad.  I didn't know about

Ivo and Adam being his grandsons, too, but Mr Tomkins says he should have known as you

all have the same ears.  Sorry, but you know what I mean.  You'll like it here, I do."

     By this time we'd reached the bottom of the stairs.  Again a row of doors and one

larger than the rest.

     "We will look in the crypt first.  It's a bit of a muddle as all the unwanted things are

stored here." 

     He opened the large door and another switch was flicked.  A long low vaulted room

with stone pillars was revealed.  Around the room were piles of what looked like junk to me.

There were old bed‑frames, ancient chairs and tables, some large candlesticks, some small

statues turned to face the wall, a row of pictures in ornate frames,  numerous empty frames

and a host of cardboard and wooden boxes filled with old books.

     "The debris of centuries, my dears," he said.  "But the smaller rooms are of greater

interest at this moment.  They were the ones the priests used to hide from their pursuers after

Henry did his nasties and Elizabeth and Mary were creating mayhem.  I'm sure they were

also used as cells before that for naughty monks and students."

     "How do you know?" queried Adam, "The College history only says about the

Priests' Holes down here."

     Charles put a finger to his lips.  "That history was written by Dr Smart who belied his

name and stored his wine down here rather than in the cellars under the buttery.  He died

down here in 1936 after testing his latest consignment of French wines rather too

enthusiastically.  He was not discovered for three weeks as he often did not emerge from his

rooms for days except to pass water on the stairway.  All that, my dears,  is not in the College

history."

     I think we all shivered imagining the comatose then dead don lying amid his bottles.

Adam was still curious.

     "But how....?"

     Charles silenced him again with a raised finger to his lips.  "...dear Jason  found that

in his great‑grandfather's diary of the time.  We do not talk about it."

     "But," said a rather exasperated Adam, "That's important.  It's history.  It should be

published."

     "And let you‑know‑who harry young Jason and his family to get his sticky fingers on

the records."  Charles shook his head.  "Perhaps in all good time we might have kindlier eyes

around.  Who knows, in thirty years, or even fifty years, such time is scarcely important in

the continuous life here."

     I think that even silenced  Adam but I heard a subdued muttering.

     We went back into the passage‑way again and he unlocked one of the smaller rooms.

     "Now, just imagine the poor priest shut away not knowing who might come down

those stairs.  Only Father Ponsonby was denounced and caught and only as he went to

minister to a poor woman who had never renounced her Faith.  He was burnt at the stake at

the crossroads outside the city.  They did not dare to do it within the boundary walls.  He was

a kinsman of the poor Ponsonby so many years later.  As I said, time here is not of the

essence."

     We crowded into the cramped empty room where there was one small bulb strung

rather precariously from a hook in the low ceiling.

     "Let me show you who has been in here." He took a torch from Jason and shone it at

an angle against the wall.  "We think that P is Ponsonby's own incising or, more likely, by

someone who carved it there after he died."  An elaborately carved letter was quite visible in

the stone.  "Some others must have had only a metal stylus or a dagger point.  Not so

prominent but of interest."  There were a number of scratched names and a few dates.  I saw

1616 with almost delicate end curves to the two sixes.  I glanced at Jason.  He looked a bit

uncomfortable.  I felt a bit claustrophobic too.  "This one..," Charles continued, pointing

down, "...was fined and locked up here for 'whoring on the town' as the College history does

say.  He still became a bishop, though."

     "Hope for you, yet," whispered Ivo who I saw prodded Adam in the back.

     "Let's move on and I will show you our greatest prize."  Charles looked at Jason.

"You had better sit in the crypt, dear boy, give Ivo your other torch."  A rather relieved

looking Jason perched on a wooden box and smiled wanly while we went to another door.

     The room this opened onto was even smaller than the previous one.  Probably six feet

by eight feet at the most.  "This one was used for all the naughty students who couldn't

afford to pay for the bigger rooms when they were locked up.  See, they soon repented."  He

shone the torch at an angle again and I saw the word 'Peccavi' scratched several times with

an initial or a date by the side.  These were old.  1458 was one I saw.  "But this is my find,"

said Charles with a chuckle, squatting and pointing.  "We knew there were initials here, J

followed by K and the date 1460.  I went to the College library and looked at the records

around those years.  Luckily some old don in the 1800's had started to decipher those ancient

parchments and there it was.  A student came here when he was fourteen in 1458 and

remained for six years until he went on to Sempringham Abbey as far as we know.  He was

the youngest son of a small landholder, a yeoman in the records, out Thorney way.  There

was only one J K here at that time and he was accused of a sin of the flesh and imprisoned

here for a week and father was sent a bill for four pence.  A sum not to be sneezed at in those

days."  He straightened up and smiled.  "Johannes Knottus in the records."

     "Yes," a voice came from the door.  Young Jason had recovered somewhat.  "Mr

Charles says it must be a relation of mine.  We did come from Thorney way."

     Adam had taken the torch from Ivo and was prone on the floor directing the beam

here and there over the initials.  "Yes, it's J K right enough but there's something else looks

like 'sui sal'" He spelled out the letters. 

     Charles was nodding.  "Sins of the flesh it said.  We saw those words, too. I think that

may be the dear lad's rather poor Latin.  Sui salax.  Self lustfulness."

     Adam chuckled loudly.  "It certainly was!  Did you see the rest?"

     Charles shook his head and dropped to his knees while Adam shone his torch below

the inscription.

     "You said a week?  I think it was eight days, with not quite a full day either end."

     "What do you mean," asked Ivo as the rest of us knelt and peered.

     "Look," said Adam pointing, "There are eight rows of tiny scratches.  Two, then

three, another three, then four, two more threes, then one and last there's two again." He

rolled and sat up.  "You say he was sixteen?"  Charles said 'Yes'.  "Typical sixteen‑year old I

would say, begging your pardons.  I think this is his record of his self‑lustfulness while

locked in the dark down here."  He shook his head.  "Boys must have always been the same

and I don't blame him."  He looked up at us surrounding him.  "Poor little bugger, locked up

here with nothing else to do.  I'd be the same I confess."

     "Yeah, me too," said Ivo, who had taught me to wank, "Poor little sod.  And I bet it

was only once on the Sunday 'cause that'ld be even more sinful."

     We all turned and looked at Jason who began laughing out loud.  "Bloody little

wanker!   ...Oops, sorry, but it's funny." He looked at Charles and grinned.  "I knew what you

meant when you told me he was in here for sins of the flesh.   Wait 'til I tell my brother this,

though!  I'll tell Dad to lock him in the landing cupboard!"

     "I hope you aren't accusing young Jonathan of the sins of his kinsman, dear boy?"

said Charles.

     "He's sixteen, and that's his name, too, so what do you think?" was the quick reply

from a red‑faced giggling Jason.

     By this time we were all laughing.  But what a find!

     Adam stood up first.  "Charles, so nobody's noticed that before?"

     Charles looked up at him.  "No, dearest thing, and I think we ought to keep it to

ourselves for the moment."

     "You don't like Pinch‑Bum, do you?   And you're scared in case he gets hold of this

and publishes it and makes fun of it?"

     "Precious, you are so right!  Now help me up, I think we have seen enough of this for

now.  It's dear Mark's turn now."

     "You'll let me photograph it though?" asked Adam.

     "For you, my hunk, anything.  But...," he held a finger against Adam's chest, "...No

further."

     We filed out of the room into the passageway and Charles carefully extinguished all

the lights.  Up the stairs he unlocked the door marked 'Chapel' and Tris and I went up to the

organ loft.   I had my small bag with me in which I'd put a couple of pieces.  Nothing too

long, nothing too tedious.  Bach's Chorale prelude, 'By the Waters of Babylon' and

something to show off the organ, Boellmann's 'Menuet Gothique'.   Tris smiled when he saw

the second piece.  "I like that."

     When I'd finished and we went down again into the Chapel, Charles was so effusive.

"My dear, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed that."  He turned to a now less formal Jason

who was grinning and chatting to Adam.  A be‑ringed finger was held up in admonition.

"Now, naughty young Knott, we know where to put you when you are fractious!  Term starts

on Thursday and I want the brass cleaned before then and I don't have to warn you..."

Suitably chastened naughty young Knott led us along the quad where more coffee was soon

ready.  Adam said we could have a quick lunch in Hall as he'd asked before we met up this

morning.  Charles declined.  So Tris and I collected our bags and thanked him for his

hospitality and especially for the largesse of the previous evening.

     "That was nothing sweet ones, I hope we shall continue these friendly meetings at

least when you are here next year, Tristan Price‑Williams."  He eyed my lovely friend up and

down.  "You will be an asset to our College and I am sure to our tragical mirths!"  He shook

my hand.  "You and your boon companion will live long and happily I am sure.  I wish you

well." He held my hand up and lightly kissed my finger‑tips.  With someone else I would

have felt embarrassed, but not with Charles.

     Ivo and Adam took us up to their third floor room, No 5.  Ivo pointed to the door

opposite.  The number 6 was a bit faded.  So that had been Grandad's room, before that in

the 1890's Augustus's, and now occupied by Babyballs Bryce.  Adam quickly ushered Tris

and me into their set.  They explained it was one of only two doubles in the college and they

were usually reserved for brothers and they had been lucky to get it.  In fact, instead of

moving out of College into a College  house next year they were being allowed to stay.

"Being in the choir and Ivo being elected Secretary of the rugger club for next year as well

helped," explained Adam.

     Their set was almost as spacious as Dingley's on the ground floor.  Nicely, if sparsely

furnished with two single beds in the bedroom.  We giggled as there was a wire strung across

the room dividing it and there was a curtain which could be pulled across.

     "That's useful when he's pleasuring himself ," said Adam, "I don't have to watch.

And you should see the scratches on the wall by his bedhead!"

     "Huh!" said Ivo, "And who tried to hide that bird your side that Friday night when I

was trying to sleep as we had that away game next day?  He's bloody insatiable.  But she said

it was warmer by the fire so he humped her in the other room and she kept squealing for

more.  I nearly offered to help but her brother's one of the boaties and I didn't want to get

roughed up if he found out what that evil article was doing to his sister."

     "Jealousy, jealousy, dear brother.  Do I detect the little green eye?  Anyway I never

saw you that next Saturday night at all and had to make excuses to Matt who was in charge of

the choir Sunday morning.  Bloody hell, you could hardly stagger when you got back Sunday

evening.  'Tory had you in balls and all, I'm sure!"

     "I got kicked and she gave me a massage...."

     The two brothers were giving each other vigorous V‑signs and wanking signs while

Tris and I were creased with laughter.

     Ivo turned to us.  "It's all part of College life....."  He looked at Tris.  "....But you'd

better remain faithful or his nasty cousins will want to know why!"

     Tris covered his face with his hands.  "I suppose I'd better promise."

     "You'd better," I said dragging down his hands and hugging him while planting a kiss

on his full red lips.

     It was Ivo and Adam's turn to laugh.  "Put him down, Fido," said Ivo.  He came over

and put his arm round us.  "You'd better book a double the next year if he doesn't get the

Pennefather, but that four‑poster looks like a double‑bed anyway."