Some of the Characters Appearing

Mark Henry Foster          The storyteller

Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams  His well‑proportioned boyfriend

Francis Michael [Microbe] Foster  Alias Toad

Angus Alexander McKenzie (Zack)   A young man with panache

Brandon McKenzie  His younger brother

Fiona McKenzie His elder sister

Dina Patel A friend of Louis

Toby Barker   A bright boatie and actor

Louis Mantegnant  Another bright boatie and actor

Ivo Richie Carr   Mark's cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it  

Adam Benjamin Carr    Ditto, as his twin

Oliver Jensen   A Musical undergraduate with allure

Edward Jensen  Oliver's younger brother with extra allure

Charles Fane‑Stuart  The 'Bursar‑in‑Waiting'!

Jason Knott   A newly minted Porter

Liam Moore  A Lodge Boy

Sean O'Malley   Servery lad and Lodge Boy

Curt Stein  Another Servery lad and an habitue of the Club

     Frankie was back to school in the morning, resplendent in Prefectural blazer.  We had

the rest of the week but wanted to get back to Cambridge on Sunday after Zack's party.  It

was to be the usual eighteenth birthday affair ‑ the local Parish Hall, eats, drinks and disco....

Zack, ne Angus Alexander McKenzie, was eighteen!  A man now as far as the law was

concerned.

     We arranged to go to Barnet by tube train where Fiona, bless her heart, would meet us

and drive us to Arkley.  We would have a grand sleepover and Dad would drive up next day

to take us to Cambridge.

     Of course, Oliver and Eddie were already there.  A gaggle of Zack's friends, male

mainly, from the Grammar School the boys attended, plus sundry girlfriends, rolled up well

in time.  Tris and I were surrounded as the finding of the body had been hot news when Zack

had told his pals we were involved.  Zack was obviously popular and I saw at least two of the

girls eyeing him up speculatively.  As we'd given him some of the latest Matteoli products

for trendy young men he'd changed into them for the party and Brandon insisted on wearing

the latest full outfit Uncle Francesco had designed for an American tennis prodigy.  Frankie

and Steady Eddie were well away.  They had 'the chicks' as Frankie insisted on calling them,

falling over the pair.  They danced to the noisy disco all evening and were busy chatting up

any female who came near them.  From snatches of his conversations as he brought young

ladies over to ply them with another drink ‑ soft mainly ‑ I could see why Gobbo was the

perfect nickname for him as bestowed by his friends.  Dina was there with her young brother,

Lucas.  A slim, good‑looking lad who also never seemed to lack a partner.  Of course, figures

of awe for the mainly Sixth Formers, were Toby and Louie, large and impressive and full of

bounce and good humour.

     Commander McKenzie and his wife were there, with other relatives, and we told

them a bit of our adventures at Ulvescott as well as giving the Commander our version of the

finding of Aubrey Devereux.  "Yes," he said, "I often wondered what really happened to old

Augustus and to think I was living on top of that cellar for three years with his killer in it.

No, I never felt I was haunted!"

     The sleepover was hilarious.  I think there were eight, or maybe nine, male bodies

strewn in borrowed sleeping bags or rolls of blankets over the floor and in Zack's bed.  As I

was emerging, rather groggily, from my bag in the morning to visit the lav, Louie poked me

in the back.  "Wait till I tell my lot I slept with two nice gay guys during the vac!"  His lot, I

assumed were his rowing pals.  What he'd got wrong was that he had slept with at least four

nice gay guys as Oliver and Zack were still snoring on top of the bed.

     Dad turned up in good time just after lunch and he had all our bags already in the

boot.  Frankie had been almost jumping up and down all morning as he was going to pull the

stop that opened the secret door.  When he started on about it again in the car I threatened not

to show him how to get out if he misbehaved.  I'm sure Dad heard the 'Bollocks!' from

beside me on the back seat of the Volvo.  He shut up and said nothing more until we drew up

at the back gate of the College.  We left the bags in the car and went in and up to the Porter's

Lodge.  There ranged behind the counter were Charles and Jason with a cheerful Liam in the

background.

     "My dears," said Charles, "Welcome back.  Mr Foster it is so good to see you."  This

to Dad who was standing back looking amused.  Frankie was congratulating Jason on his

promotion and eyeing Liam to see if he had more spots I was sure.  Charles was waving his

hands, attention was needed.  "There is a large crate delivered and placed in your set.  Mr

Tomkins was quite sure it was a coffin after the last incident but I disabused him of that

misapprehension and suggested it was some type of musical instrument.   It says fragile and

handle with care."

     He was angling for an explanation.  The instructions I had received were to get in

touch with a firm in Cambridge who would unpack it, set it up and arrange to have it tuned

again.   Luckily my big room was large enough to accommodate it and the grand piano and it

would be just perfect for concerts in the Chapel as it was easily moveable.

     "It's a harpsichord," I said quite simply.  "I've been given it as a present and I'll tell

you everything that's happened in all good time."

     Liam went off with the trolley to unload our bags and we went along to our set.  All

looked just as we had left it in December.  Tris went off to the kitchen and did the first thing

one always did ‑ put the kettle on.  Dad was inspecting the row of organ stops and laughing

as Frankie was jumping up and down even more by the time Liam came back and our bags

were safely brought in.  I was particularly puzzled by an extra one which was rather heavy

and must have belonged to Tris.

     At long last I gave Frankie the instruction of what to do.  "Pull the Gambe slowly

until you hear three clicks."  He did this.  There was a 'Wow' as the panelling opened and the

inner door was revealed.  I leaned in as the door was pushed open and switched on the

darkroom light.  We had a stool which we put to prevent the door from closing and armed

with the two torches we let Frankie lead the way into the upper passageway with the

darkroom and the big side‑room with it's now‑empty shelves.

     "The electrical contractor is coming on Wednesday to install proper lighting here and

down into the cellar as well," announced Charles, "The Brigadier has authorised the expense

from the Pennefather account as he says it is part of this set and comes within the remit of the

Pennefather Bequest."

     Tris nudged me.  "Bet Charles told him that."

     "My dear, the Brigadier is always open to good advice when freely and generously

given," said Charles with a hint of tartness in his voice. 

     "Has Jason found anything with his metal detector?" I asked, stifling a laugh at Tris

having been reprimanded so severely!

     "Precious ones, that has been a sorry enterprise so far.  I return from Venice to find

half the turf has been removed," His left hand was flicked derisively.  "And a great heap of

sundry objects laid out for inspection.  At least there was a guinea piece from 1846 and quite

a collection of small coinage, but nothing  much of any great interest or value, other than

discarded piping taken by a Metallurgy don as he wished to analyse it.  There was one thing,

however...,"  The finger went to the side of his nose. "...Which I keep on my person until it is

valued and deposited somewhere.  I will show you once we return.."

     We filed down the stairs with the torches showing the bare stone walls and the stone‑

flagged floor.  "We are most curious how dry the place has remained.  We are having an

inspection sometime but the consensus of opinion is that there is a constant flow of air

somehow regulated which realizes some equilibrium.  This would account for the

mummification of that unfortunate man."  He pointed his torch upwards.  "There are small

vents there as you can see."

     "Is that anything to do with the noises in the wall I've heard," asked Frankie.  "When

I slept in Tris's room last year that scared me."

     "Perhaps," said Charles, "But we will have to wait for the investigation.  All I know is

that Dr Matthews has pointed out the College itself is built on a slight mound so water would

not seep from the river and that level has been lowered over the years in any case."

     I looked at Tris.  He was smiling.  I bet he'd had the same thought as me.  If there was

a cellar here, was there one under Charles' set as well.  A question to raise in all good time.

     Frankie was all abuzz when we got back up into my main room.  "What will you use

all that for?"

     Charles shook his head.  "No decision has been made on that at present.  So far, it is

part of this set and it up to the Pennefather Scholar to decide until then."

     "Good place for a disco," said Toad, "Wouldn't disturb the neighbours with walls that

thick.  Two quid a time entry, you'd make a packet, Marky!  I know Bozo's cousin, he's a DJ

and he could give you advice."

     This did not go well with Charles, remembering no doubt, Pinch‑Bum's suggestions

for the use of the Chapel.  "I do not think your brother would want the bother of such a

venture and it would inconvenience dear Tristan as he will be embarking on his Finals in the

near future."

     One squashed Toad retreated, severely reprimanded.

     "But, let me show you this,"   Charles drew out a small chamois bag from the deep

inside pocket of the frock coat he was wearing.  He carefully opened it and placed the most

exquisitely bejewelled and engraved golden ring on a small mat on the dining table.

     There were renewed 'Wows' and 'What is it?'

     He held up a hand, first finger pointing upwards.  "I am of the opinion that it is a

bishop's or an abbot's ring.  I await the return of the curator of jewellery at the Fitzwilliam

Museum to firm up that opinion.  I would hazard a guess of somewhere in the 1400's for it's

manufacture.  We found an illustration similar to it in a book in the Library and that was a

ring of German origin of 1460."

     Dad was looking closely at it.  "I wouldn't have thought that was lost off someone's

finger.  Think of the hue and cry if something like that had just been lost.  It may have been

placed there deliberately."

     "Mr Foster, my sentiments exactly," said Charles with a hint of triumph in his voice.

"I want to persuade the Brigadier to allow some excavations around the place it was found

but he is wintering in Benidorm or some such place at the moment and does not return until

Wednesday.  Perhaps the secrets of the dorter will be revealed.  However, I might take

preemptive action."

     Charles was on a high.  'Hic sepultus' was on his mind.  It sounded feasible except

that Tris nudged me and when I turned to look at him he had a grin on his face.

     That was that.  Dad had to return to London.  We'd had some lunch at the Commander's so I offered everyone else as well a snack from the cold box Mum had packed.  Liam and Toad devoured most of the cheese sandwiches between them while I held on to the ham sandwiches for the rest of us.  Tea was brewed and all looked happy, even more so when

Charles went off and returned with a large fruit cake, courtesy of Mother.   Dad and Frankie

went off after that and Tris and I started to unpack.  Clean clothes aplenty.  Towels, two

changes of bed linen.  A bag of tins and packets for the pantry.  A fruit cake of our own and a

tin of assorted buns.  Mum and Auntie Di had been busy.  Then there were our books and

papers.  We'd left the particular two from Ulvescott behind.  We knew they would have

caused too much extra sexual activity on the staircase and we'd decided there was enough of

that any way!  Toad could exercise his unruly member twice nightly at least, reading the

adventures of the lads in the Chateau, or the lads in the 'Odyssey'. But, perhaps, a visitor at

half‑term might bring them.  I had the copy of 'All Change' which I would read in my leisure

moments ‑ if I found any.  So, all that was left was the mysterious extra bag.

     "Leave that until tomorrow," Tris said, "Lots to do then anyway.  I'm not seeing

Jacob until Tuesday afternoon.  He's going back to hospital on Thursday for the biggie so I

must check off things with him.  But we can go for our run and after breakfast you go and

practice for an hour or so as I must go to the Library and then I'll show you things later in the

morning..."

     OK, Boss, OK.  Yep.  I had plenty to do as well.  Coming back a week early was

going to be useful as I could really concentrate on going through all the Maths and practice

hard if ever I had a chance of getting the Fellowship.  Of course, the other reason, and

perhaps the major one for two horny lads was that our sex‑lives over Christmas and the New

Year had been, to put it mildly, sporadic.  We'd had snatched times together but we hadn't

slept together and had our usual sexual encounters we'd got used to during term time.  Of

course, we'd had those awesome nights at Ulvescott.  Nights etched on my brain and

remembered each time I looked at that photograph now on our mantelshelf.  I smiled each

time I looked at that wonderful pair, so together, so doomed, so blessed, and a vital presence

in so many lives.  I swore they smiled back.  I knew they were a presence in our lives now. 

     We loved each other fully that night.  There was nothing ancient about our endeavours.  An ancient rite perhaps, as ancient as time itself.  Time, time, time... the rite repeated three times in various conjugations.  Tris nuzzling me just by my Adam's Apple on each occasion knowing this would urge me on.  I needed no urging.  I wanted Tris.  Tris wanted me.  I kissed the lobe of his ear.  His signal point.  Tris wanted me so badly he came so copiously as I entered him that first time and flooded us both with his seed.  I filled him moments later with my pent‑up juices.  So it continued as our bodies vied to include every element of ourselves, fully, deeply, satisfying both of us with such love, such passion, such tenderness.  We slept, knowing we were safe, with an unfathomable presence watching benignly.  We were together as they were together.

     I woke Tris by kissing his closed eyelids.  He smiled as he sprung awake.  "We've

loved each other for well over five years now," he said, "But I think our loving will have

changed since that visit."

     "I know what you mean," I said, "I felt it, too."  I had to say it.  "I want to make an

even fuller commitment.  Do you?"

     He kissed me tenderly.  "We must go back to Ulvescott soon.  It's there we'll make

our pledge.  We won't even have to say anything."

     I nodded.  I knew.  But I would say sincere words of confirmation.

     Kitted out, with warm pullovers on top to shield us from the Cambridge winter, we

did our run.  Not too far, the Christmas indulgences had had some effect on waistlines, but a

few days would see us back to fitness.  We ran the other way this morning as it was wet

under foot and passed the boathouses on the other side of the Cam.

     "Got to sort out what really happened to Harry Potter and the other two.  We know

they're connected," Tris said.  I would share some other thoughts with him later.

     First thing I did after he left for the Library was to go to the Porter's Lodge.  The

other Assistant Porter was there and I had to explain I had to phone the musical instrument

firm to arrange for the harpsichord to be assembled and tuned.  I got the distinct impression

he thought I was intending to keep some sort of forbidden beast in the rooms and was eyeing

the list of College Rules prominently displayed on the wall while I dialled.  If I hadn't been

so engrossed in my task I might have told him the only beast I had in the rooms was Tristan

Price‑Williams whose jaws could stretch to accommodate any small or even large intruder. 

But...  Yes.  They would arrange to be on site on Wednesday and had been forewarned.  They

were well aware of Mr Carstairs' work as they had dealt with two other instruments installed

in other Colleges.  No problem.

       Then to the Chapel.  I was getting so used now to the organ it was like a friend.  I lost myself practising.  I played phrases again and again making sure the fingering was neat,

right hand, left hand, hands together, then adding the feet on the pedals.  I felt I was getting

somewhere.  If only I'd played the Passacaglia and Fugue like I had this morning!  Time

passed so quickly it was gone half past eleven when I emerged into the cold air of the Quad.

     What the Hell!  There were two diggers and two watchers.  The corner patch of soil

exposed where the dorter walls were visible was now a hole at least two feet deep.  The Head

Gardener and one of his underlings were digging away watched intently by the muffled‑up

figures of Charles and Liam.  I was hailed as I hurried along the path ready for the warmth of

my rooms and a steaming hot cup of coffee.  Not so hasty.

     "My dear, we are finding artefacts of sorts," Charles called out, "Great things are

upon us."  He brandished an object.  I went over and looked.  It was a rather bent piece of

metal, the corner of which had been cleaned and was shining.  "Plate it said," Charles was

ecstatic, "I believe this is a paten for the holy wafers.  We have one which matches in the

safe in the Chapel."  He looked at the expanding hole.  "Dig on, Mr Guthrie!"

     "Shouldn't this be done by proper archaeologists?"  I asked, rather astounded.  "You

might be destroying all sorts of things."

     "Stop, Mr Guthrie," he commanded, holding up the paten as if it were a lollipop

lady's sign for halting oncoming traffic,  "I am afraid I have been carried away with an

excess of zeal!"  He looked over at me.  "You are so correct, my precious.  I need someone

ever to curb my enthusiasms."  He turned to Mr Guthrie who was looking evilly at him.  "We

must make the excavation secure.  A tarpaulin, perhaps?  Liam, sweet, you will know where

such items are stored.  I must apologise, Mr Guthrie, for interrupting your proper duties.  No

doubt Mrs Chalfont‑Meade will be able to recompense both you and the industrious Wayne

for the extra burdens I have imposed upon you.  Come, Mark, let us go to my set and see the

other items and I can telephone the Archaeology Museum."

     He was very subdued as he pointed out an array of about ten small dirt encrusted

objects.  I'd seen similar in the museum in the cloister of King's College Chapel.  "These are

pilgrims' tokens aren't they?"

     He nodded.  He was rather contrite.  "I fear I will have to make abject apologies for

what has happened this morning."  Then he smiled.  "But, as I said great things are upon us.

As you appeared so Wayne had just struck on something which I think is a box.  We must

wait."  He was vainly trying to dial on the ancient telephone it was his privilege to possess as

supernumerary assistant to the Bursar.  "They never answer my request for an outside line,"

he said plaintively, "Let us go to the Porter's Lodge and telephone from there."

     Up flights of stairs and down flights of stairs and I still wanted my coffee.

     As we went out there were Wayne and Liam dragging a large tarpaulin sheet over the

excavation.  Charles looked Wayne up and down.  "Yes, he seems a very well‑built young

man," he said quietly, "At least that is the considered opinion of Christopher Lascelles‑

Wright and I have a suspicion he would be expert on such matters.  I have often wondered

why potting‑sheds have whitened windows."

     Oh, so Charles was imparting knowledge about the Secretary of the Rugger Club, the

scrum‑half of the team Tris played in.  Yes, Christopher Lascelles‑Wright was compact and

tough‑looking with a mop of dark curly hair.  Yes, I'd noted on the list of students of the

College he had been at the same school as Charles.  Yes, and he'd been a chosen member of

the line‑up for the Medea scrum, too.  I remembered admiring his bubble‑butt, an apt

description I'd read in that story Tris had downloaded, atop those muscly, bronzed legs.  So

Charles had certain knowledge of some liaison!  I must ask Tris his opinion, too.

     I left Charles having a lengthy, rather tortuous, phone call to someone at the Museum

of Archaeology and sauntered back to the set.  I was nursing my coffee thinking about an

awkward passage in the Howells 'Rhapsody' Mr Prentice had given me at Christmas ‑ a held

chord full of flats with a tenth in the bass, then a chromatic run in the pedals, followed by

widely spaced chords.  Good job I had big hands ‑ went with the ears....  Where was Tris?  He

came in rather breathless just at mid‑day.

     "Sorry, love, I just had to finish reading a judgement and it was so complicated and I

think the Judge got it wrong.  Can't find an appeal though, and the bloke got seven years.  I

want to ask Mr Fullerton about it.  Come and have lunch and I'll tell you about what we'll do

as soon as we get back."

     I knew what I wanted to do.  Thinking about Christopher and his bodily attributes and

there he was in my mind, panting breathlessly, waiting for the ball to be heeled out by the

scrum, with my Tris shoving and pushing in those tight dark red shorts of his by his side...  Oh, all this was quite sufficient to set certain desires on the move.  Especially as Tris was here now, himself well‑built, well‑hung and in prime condition.  And if Christopher Lascelles‑Wright, as described, was well‑built, well‑hung and in prime condition and of a certain disposition, then I and Tris could help him score more than one try and.....

     "Come on, are you listening," said Tris waving a hand in front of my eyes, "You've

got that bloody goofy look on your face and I know exactly what you're thinking about.

Bloody insatiable...."  He bent down and kissed my forehead, "...But I love you for it.  I'm

starving though and I could do with a good intake of toad in the hole!  Saw that's on the

menu.  We can keep that other toad in the hole you're thinking of for later."

     "Bloody mind‑reader," I said, hauling myself up from the depths of the comfy chair.

     "No need to mind‑read," he laughed, "I think about the same ninety per cent of the

time and when I'm with you it's ninety‑nine point nine per cent."

     "A bit left over?"

     "That's for Pugsy and the rest in case you have a headache!"

     I put my arms around him and we literally waltzed to the door.  "Decorum, decorum,"

he giggled as we emerged into the quad.

     There was the usual gathering, or carbuncle as Tris said, of the grey sweat‑suited tribe

already feasting on platefuls of the customary stew or roast meats to build even more muscle.

Sean was serving.  "Recommend the toad, Mr Foster, Liam caught them specially this

morning!"  He laughed.  "He caught something else when Mr Tomkins found out about that

hole.  Mr Charles is pleading for his life and he won't get anywhere."  He grinned as four

good‑sized sausages surrounded by succulent looking Yorkshire pudding were placed on my

plate.  "Same for you, sir?" he asked Tris.  "And Mrs Davies would like to see you as Mr

Penry‑Jones has disappeared again and he was supposed to give her his list for the Chapel

before Christmas."

     Tris grinned.  "You're a treasure, Sean, thanks."

     "That's what Mr Charles says I am, too.  Nice to be appreciated....   No!  Two

sausages are the usual portion unless you have special dispensation from the Chaplain.  You

can have a nice slice of the beef as well if you like!"  This addressed to a large grey sweat‑

suited individual who had lumbered up behind us and was chuntering on about the

meagreness of his lunch.

     The veggies were being distributed by two youngsters, no doubt from the local

catering college on work experience like Barry had been.  I recognised one.  He was one of

the two shy lads who looked on at our group at the Club with a certain longing.  His

companion, not known, was busy along the row of hot containers.  "See you Friday," I said

quietly, "Come over and bring that friend of yours with you and have a drink with us."  He

blushed but his smile told me his day had been made.

     I was still no nearer finding out what was in the bag as Tris said he must go and see

Mrs Davies.  Drew was Senior Organ Scholar now and nominally in charge of Chapel music.

As he was rarely around and had been miffed about the Christmas Concert I think his

disappearance was intentional.  It would mean more work for Ben and me but with Oliver

helping with repertoire and training the choir as well, we would manage.

     I settled in my study and looked at more of the notes James Tanner had left for me.

Yes, I could see what the problems were leading to.  I did a couple then followed a trail of

my own, putting it down as neatly as possible in my other notebook.  Interestingly, it led to a

conclusion I'd met before but in a different area.  I leafed through the recommended volume.

No, it didn't mention that, so perhaps I was wrong.  I checked my reasoning and was satisfied

I'd gone about it the right way.  I thought that result would be useful as it bridged two aspects

which I'd noted came up as separate topics in past papers.  I was busy sketching out the steps

of  the next proof when Tris returned.

     "You look quite relaxed," he said.  "That little worried look you usually have when

your brain is on the boil isn't there.   I hope you've been working and not idling and playing

with yourself under the desk like you used to do at school.  Twitcher Larson told me you

were always having a wank...."

     I turned round and clasped him round the waist.  "Twitcher bloody Larson, as I've

told you many times before, was a bloody liar.  He stuck together more pages of that bloody

maths book we used than anyone else in the form.  Just because you used to stick your hand

up his shorts to feel his hairy nuts in the scrum...."

     "....Confession, confession," he crowed, "Who knew he had hairy nuts, eh?  I only

saw them once when we were both in the Junior XV.  You, bloody liar, had him up in your

bedroom plenty of times, I saw..."

     "...Oh, snooping now,....."  I gave him a great squeeze.  This was a perennial running

joke.  Yes, Twitcher and I had indulged in quite a few joint sessions when we were in Year 9.

I was good at Maths, he wasn't.  I helped him out and we helped each other out.  Tris had

cornered him once after a game, just when Tris and I were about to seal our own fates.

Twitcher and he had come to an arrangement, too.  Tris would help him with History....   So,

only seen Twitcher's hairy nuts once??!!   Not on your Nelly!  Tris had handled them perhaps

fewer times than I had, but...  The arrangement fizzled out as Twitcher got more scholastic

confidence and girls loomed on the horizon.  We remained friends and Twitcher had

recognised the relationship between Tris and myself long before we thought anyone else had.

He'd said he was sorry he couldn't help if I was lonely when Tris left to first go to St Mark's.

He'd got a steady girlfriend so he knew how I must feel, but we were all good mates, eh?

Good old Twitcher, now at King's College London reading English.

     "What's in the bag?" I asked, having exhausted our usual Twitcher repartee which

often ended with our feeling of hairy nuts and joint release of unscholastic tensions.

     "Right.  I'll show you.  Shirt‑sleeve order needed."

     He disappeared off to the bedroom and came out lugging the holdall.  He unzipped it

and took out a tape measure and a pad of paper.

     "You go and stand by the far wall while I stretch this out.  We'll have to do it more

than once as it was the longest in Dad's toolbox and it'll only measure twelve feet."

     Dutifully I stood as he pulled out the metal rule.  He put a beer mat on the floor to

mark the twelve foot limit.  I then had to put my end of the measure by the beer mat and went

on, and then there was a little bit more.

     "Twenty‑five feet so far," he said making a rapid sketch on the pad.  "We need to

check the length of your study and then the bedroom and into those cupboards on the far

wall.  And remember it's the Chapel after that."

     "You've been thinking the same as me," I said.  "Frankie wondered why the broom

cupboard wasn't deeper.  We know it wasn't because of the store room behind.  So...."

     "Yes," he said, "It's been so dark down below we haven't really explored the size."

He went over to the holdall.  "I brought all this as well."

     "All this" were three lots of extension leads, two with lamp holders on the end, and a

couple of double socket leads as well.

     "Should reach down if we plug into that socket by the fireplace.  It'll give us plenty of

light to see.  Pity we didn't do this when that team were here."

     We went on measuring, and the length of the rooms from end wall to end wall we

totalled up as just over forty six feet, give an inch or two.  The width was sixteen feet plus

depth of wall covering.  Quite sizeable for a bachelor pad ‑ or even a two bachelor pad.

     Next, I opened the panelling door and wedged the inner door open.  Using the

extension leads we could see that the inner chamber, as it were, was the same length as the

set.  We then trailed the flexes down the steps to the lower cellar and the place was

illuminated again.  It was so obvious now.  The cellar was not the same length as the upper

rooms.  Given there was a wall corresponding with my entrance hall wall and an inner

dividing wall with an open arch to the side no one had questioned the size.

     We measured the distances.  "Total of thirty‑five feet, give an inch or two," sang out

Tris from the part where Aubrey was found.  I was inspecting the wall in the other part, the

part nearer the Chapel.  The sixteen or so feet of wall across was subdivided by three

columns of protruding stone.  I shone my lamp down, looked at the bases of the second and

third columns, then knelt and called for Tris.

     "It's here," I called.  Tris came running through, he knelt and looked where I was

pointing.  "At the bases here there are little carvings of heads on both these plinths."

     "'Multum capitum', many heads," he whispered, "And we're twelve feet short."

     We stood up and shone the lights up and across the four walls between the columns.

The third one along looked a shade lighter than the others.

     "I bet there was a door here and a wall's been put up to block it."  He went off and

came back with a small steak hammer.  He tapped each of the intervening walls.  The third one had a definitely different sound than the others, a higher thud, as if less solid.

     "I'll stay here," he said, "I promise I won't do anything.  You go and get the Chaplain

and Charles."

     I was off like a shot.  Luckily the Chaplain was in his study.  He looked quite

bemused as I blurted out the story and the discovery.  He grabbed a torch and followed me as

I took off again and ran, most illegally across the turf.  I rushed up the stairs and banged on

Charles' door before the Chaplain even reached the stairway.

     "Charles!" I almost shouted as he opened the door, "Come on down.  I think we've

found something."

     He followed me immediately, no questions, just listening as I gabbled on about

measuring up and the heads on the plinths.  We almost collided with the Chaplain who

followed as I outlined the findings once more.

     Tris was still in place.  He was examining the plinths very carefully.

     "I'm sure this is right.  These are beautifully carved."  He stood and held the lamp so

the Chaplain could see.  "Sub dorter hic sepultus est," he intoned.

     Of course, we then had to show the Chaplain the copies of the code and my solution.

"You lot seem to be putting St Mark's on the map in more ways than one.  You think that

wall hides something?" he said, poring over the solution page.

     "We do," I said, "I have the feeling that Charles has the answer."

     Charles had been surprisingly silent so far.  Was his dig to be overshadowed?  "My

dears," he said, "I am sure that the C and S in that Servant's record referred to the Abbeys of

Crowland and Sempringham.  Both had connections with St Mark's.  Johannes Knottus

became a Gilbertine canon and must have been at Sempringham, he may even have become

the prior as a Johannes is noted in that position and had the reputation of being a very holy

man.  There seems to be no record of the value of anything taken from there.  Crowland we

know was sequestered but the spoils there for iniquitous Henry were meagre."  He turned to

the Chaplain.  "Perhaps you could ask the Master for permission to open this.  I have a

curator from the Archaeology Museum coming on Thursday to see the ring and the other

pieces, perhaps he could advise earlier."

     Tuesday was hectic.  The Master came across in the morning to inspect with Dr

Matthews, the Dean, and three of the old dons.  All shook their heads sagely.  The man from

the Archaeology Museum followed them and brought some instrument which he attached to

the intervening walls and said the third one was definitely not the same as the others.  He

went off with Charles and had a long discussion about the hole revealed under the rolled

back tarpaulin.  The ring, paten and tokens were collected and placed in a strong box by a

messenger from the Fitzwilliam Museum.  Charles insisted on going back with him as he was

sure it was a scam and the man and the box would disappear.  He disappeared for at least a

couple of hours and came back beaming.  The ring was genuine.  It was likely to have been

the equivalent of an episcopal ring and was dated provisionally at 1475 and was of Italian

origin.  They would perform further tests and appraisals and someone would attend with the

archaeologists in case other things emerged.  The other things were as thought.  They would

be cleaned and judgements given.  When Mr Tomkins was told he even smiled, query

benevolently, and Jason was acquitted of the heinous crime of aiding the destruction of the

hallowed turf.

     When I was next in the Porter's Lodge I was also acquitted.  "Mr Foster, the Notices

are quite clear, but in the circumstances the Dean says you were under stress and the incident

is forgotten."  My footprints would, no doubt, grow as toadstools in his mind, and who the

hell saw me?

     I had hoped for a quiet week to do some serious work on my Maths.  I needed quiet.

Charles came to the rescue.  "My dear, I will be otherwise engaged in bringing the Brigadier

up to date with all that is happening and keeping a weather eye on any developments so my

humble room is at your disposal.  I will guarantee no interruptions other than the wee mite

Liam who will provide you with abundant refreshments at your fancy.  Press what is

colloquially known as Hash on the telephone and he will answer."  As the 'wee mite' was

standing behind him, with his own clipboard and an inscrutable look on his face, I thanked

them both as graciously as I could.  As Charles turned to go the 'wee mite' gave me a wink

and trotted off after him.  Someone had his measure I thought.

     I actually got loads of work done as well as practising assiduously.  A senior

archaeologist came early on Thursday morning and, with an assistant wrapped all the

furniture, including the grand piano and assembled harpsichord, in plastic as it was planned

to open the sealed space on Saturday and there was likely to be plenty of dust.  What with

that and the electricians and their mess ‑ thankfully all cleared up, there was plenty of

interest.

     The other bit of interest was an urgent 'phone call from Ivo.  His old tutor, Dr Porter,

had something very pressing to impart, could he come to stay Friday night as he was seeing

him at nine o'clock Saturday morning.  We said, of course he could.  I explained about the

excavations as we called them and he got very excited.  Also that we would be going to the

Club on Friday.  "Count me in.  I'll take you out to dinner first, though.  Tell Tris I still love

him to bits!"

     Of course, we had much to impart.  I'd sent him a letter detailing all that had

happened at Ulvescott with the invitation we all had for the Burns Night weekend.  Adam

had been informed by e‑mail and the reply said he'd be there as well.

     I was glad I was out of the way on Friday as several workmen and sundry others came

to assess the strength of the structures and so forth.  Someone had tipped off a newspaper so

Mr Tomkins spent time warding off 'evil spirits' as Charles called them ‑ journalists I

assumed.

     Tris and I were in fits of giggles every time we were in the set by ourselves.  "What

happens if there's nothing there," I said on Thursday evening, looking at the neat heap of

tools lined up in front of the wall as we snooped down in the cellar to see what was going on.

     "Probably just a pile of sixteenth century Penthouses or Playboys, like the dirty books

they found in that cupboard in the Chapel," he said laughing.

     "Playgirls, more like it from what Charles says went on with the students then."

     "Bit like now.  But I don't need anything to spur me on when you're around!"

     "Flattery will get you nowhere... ...except into bed!"

     Ivo was full of news when he arrived.  Uncle George and Aunt Sophie had also been

invited to Ulvescott Manor as well.  He laughed and said she was determined to wear a very

short skirt to show off her birthmark and why the hell hadn't he and Adam got them.  I said

Dad hadn't but I and Frankie had them and they seemed to hop around between generations.

His Mum had it, they hadn't, but it was likely any kids they had might inherit.  Ivo went

rather serious then.

     "Better tell you.  'Tory and I are getting engaged at Easter.  We haven't planned the

wedding yet, next year maybe, but Adam says he'll be best man," he laughed then, "Frankie

can be a bridesmaid and you two can be Matrons of Honour...."

     Dealing with Frankie and his increased bulk gave us the advantage of knowing how to

deal with Ivo.  He was seriously tickled and his screeches matched the Toad's.  'Pax!' let us

release him and I thought of the times Ivo and Adam had made me screech, too.

     He dusted himself down.  He shook his head.  "Things don't change, I'm glad to say.

And I'm definitely going to wear the family tartan that weekend and no staring up my kilt!"

     Oh, ho!  More to plan!   We were ready and waiting for Ivo to reappear from the

bathroom at half past seven.  Both Tris and I were togged up in matching Matteoli outfits and

we got some appraising looks as we entered the rather nice restaurant Ivo took us to.  He told

us a bit about the two training courses he'd been on and he was now posted to a 'desk' in the

Foreign Office dealing with French affairs until a suitable first posting abroad was found for

him.  He said one reason for announcing his intention of getting married meant he might get

a Paris posting.

     We were quite liquefied when we reached the club.  The three of us had got through

two bottles of wine plus drinkies for starters and a brandy with our coffee so we were very

happy, to put it mildly, as Grant the bouncer gave us the thumb's up at the Club's entrance.

     Carlo and Davy were already there with Jonty and Danny.  Things were being

planned.  It was Brad's birthday next week and they had persuaded Shawn to arrange a

special 'Leather Night' and everyone had to appear with something leather.  I said I would

bring a whip as that was the only way I could tame Tris.  He got up in a pretend huff and took

Danny onto the dance floor.  I saw the two shy lads hovering and they were invited over.

After two lagers they thawed and we heard several scurrilous tales about our College kitchen

staff from the one working there.  They knew Danny well and said he was going to be a prize

chef and Barry was an idol for them too.  He was older than most on the course and they

realised he had a past.  They didn't know he was Mr B's ‑ as they called him ‑ nephew, so I

said they'd better tell him about the party next week.

     They were a couple of nice kids, just eighteen, and I had a dance with both of them

and the one in the College kitchen, Curt, said he was a bit shy because he wasn't a student

and some of them treated them like shit.  He said there was one in particular, and it didn't

take much to identify him as the Honourable Jeremy the Tosser, who always complained, so

Cheffie had put a laxative in a pot of chocolate sauce with instructions it had to be poured

over Tosser's favourite chocolate pudding.  Curt laughed as he said he didn't complain that

day and came back for seconds.  "Treat us like it and we can make them do it."

     Ivo disappeared after a while and was last seen chatting to a couple of young men I'd

seen around the Club before.  Someone had said they'd been at one of the other Colleges.  He

probably knew them as he'd been involved in so many clubs and societies when a student.

Anyway, he wouldn't be bored ‑ as if Ivo would ever be bored!

     Brad and Whippet came in quite late.  I was sitting watching the various pairs

dancing, including Tris and some buffed‑up lad, and nursing a large orange juice.  "Nasty

case," said Whippet as he sat down next to me and Brad went off to the lav.  "Some fucker's

hacked a kid over drugs.  Brad's upset.  Could have happened to Barry when he was

younger."  He grinned.  "He knows about his son, though.  That pair.." ‑ pointing at Danny

and Jonty  ‑ "...said they'd told you.  Thanks for not letting them spread it about."  I said it

was Tris who had taken the printouts away and flushed them down the bog and told them to

keep shtum about it.  He laughed.  "Brad said his son confessed he'd been lying about all the

girls.  He told his Dad because we think he was scared Danny would blurt it all out here.

Brad's not bothered.  He'd had suspicions for ages about him and Terry, so he told Tony that

if Terry Springer laid a finger on his brother he'll be round and throw the book, and that he

and Terry could shack up in his room if they wanted.  Bugger me, Brad said tonight that

Tony's told him Terry'll move in next week as his Mum wants to live at Chatteris near his

sister.  I suppose we'll see them in here and the Rugger Club'll be abandoned."

     "I doubt it.  They'll have to keep up their macho image and I expect seeing the sweaty

bodies and hairy legs gives them fuel for their bedroom activities."

     He laughed.  "Too true.  I had many a bedroom activity after Games at school ‑ alone

of course..."  We laughed.  Too true, I thought.  "...Watch it, the Boss is about..."

     "What are you two laughing about?  Hi, Mark, I hear you've been at it again."

     "The excavations?  How did you know?"

     "Eyes and ears of the world!  No, first of all we had a call about a ring that was found.

Some stupid bastard thought it might be on a lost property list.  It must have been a student

who overheard something.  Wouldn't give his name."

     "A student?  Not many around at the moment.  Shall I listen around, too?"

     Brad laughed.  "Why not! You seem to be good at solving puzzles what with the body

in the cellar."

     The others had gathered round by now and were all ears.  Straight from the horse's

mouth as it were and not just the bits in the newspapers.  So, we had to tell the tale again of

how we found the body.  Every gruesome detail was embroidered by Tris, including that the

corpse must have died while reading a copy of 'Fanny Hill' with his trousers down round his

ankles.

     "You said he died in the dark," said a disbelieving Danny.

     "It was a braille copy," said a quick‑off‑the‑mark Tris.

     "Pull the other one!" said Danny and we all dissolved into hoots of laughter and I

ordered another round.

     We let on that there was going to be a couple of excavations over the next few days.

A ring had been found in the quad and it was genuine and very old.  The cellar might hold

more secrets.  Or, it might just be empty.

     Brad said he knew about that, too, and he and Whippet would be there, just in case.

The Bursar had phoned and asked for a police presence.  Probably to restrain Charles and his

zeal!

     We didn't stay too late and gathered up Ivo and wandered back to College.  He was

rather pensive.  "Those lads told me there's a rumour going round that St Mark's is awash

with drugs.  I have the feeling the finger points at Tosser but there's someone else involved

as well.  You heard anything?"

     Neither of us had and I think we were too interested in what might happen in the

morning to really worry.  We were glad to get to bed anyway.  We'd set up the small bed for

Ivo and he made rude comments about wanting a good night's sleep and didn't want to be

disturbed by sounds of debauchery.  We forbore from attacking him fore and aft on the small

bed as it probably would have collapsed under the triple weight.  In fact, other than Tris

making a vile sucking noise to razz Ivo up as we snuggled down together I slept quietly and

deeply, unmolested and unmolesting, until our alarm went in the morning.

     Ivo protested he was out of condition for a run, then confessed he'd been visiting a

gym three times a week to keep himself fit.  We dragged the poor old soul out and did the run

in front of the boathouses again.  Arriving back he insisted on having his shower first and we

complimented him that at the age of twenty‑two he was still worth making a serious pass at.

He said he was 'Tory's now and we could keep our hands to ourselves.  Tris said it wasn't his

hand he was thinking of as there were other bits of him readily available.  We got flicked

with a damp towel and told to keep our distance and if we were good he would cook us a

nice breakfast.

     We'd just finished that when the first of the archaeologists and their team of

workmen turned up.  The senior one introduced himself as Dr Palfrey and we were shown

sonar maps of the doorway which he explained showed a double skin of walls, whereas the

other walls were all solid and eight inches thick.  He also said there was an echo from

something metallic across the top of the intervening gap.  He thought it might be a trap for

the unwary.

     "A primitive guillotine?" Tris asked.

     "Right!  At least a couple of centuries before Dr Guillotine invented his.  We think

it's held up by jutting out pieces of stone and would crash down when they are disturbed.

We'll start at the top and hope to hold it with a metal post."

     "Then it'll be the Tutankhamun moment," Ivo laughed.

     "Too true.  But we'll put a camera through on a flexible rod first.  No sticking heads

through!  Of course, like many of the Egyptian tombs it might be empty but it'll give us

plenty to explore.  If you don't mind we'll go down and set things up.  There'll be others

coming along soon and we'll try not to cause too much disturbance.  As soon as we’re ready

we'll give you a shout and you can come down.  You'd better wear these masks in case

there's any dust.  But don't worry, we'll clear up afterwards."

     As it was nearly nine o'clock Ivo said he'd better go and find out what old Dr Porter

had to tell him.  Just as he went my mobile rang.  It was Frankie.  We said nothing had

happened so far, they hadn't started, we would let him know.  I went into my study and

settled down as I had no intention of going up to Charles' room and disturbing him.  Tris said

he would go to the College Library as he wanted to write up what he thought was wrong with

the summing‑up.  Typical students' day.  Except for the possible excitement.  Just before ten

there was a discreet tap on the door.  It was Jason.  Would I like Liam to prepare coffee and

tea for the people down below?  I had heard some subterranean thumps so I knew they were

getting on with the wall.  I went to the top of the stairs and called.  A lady archaeologist came

up, took off her mask and said they would all love a drink.  It was getting hot down there

with the heat of the extra lights and in a few minutes they would be taking out a piece of the

inner wall.

     I phoned the Library and Tris soon came trotting over followed by the Master, the

Dean and the Chaplain.  There was an air of suppressed excitement.  But as usual, tea and

coffee came first.  At last the three archaeologists and their two helpers led the way down.

We donned our masks and followed.  A television monitor had been set up on the table

which had been left down there.  We saw the heavy piece of metal held up by a metal post.

Whoever might have been unwary would have suffered more than the circumcision Tristram

Shandy suffered from the falling sash window!

     Dr Palfrey gave the signal and the blue‑overalled assistant tapped out the topmost

stone and caught it before it fell.  He drew it out and Dr Palfrey stepped forward with the

television camera and poked it and its attendant light through the hole.  I think we all held

our breath as he adjusted the focus looking back at the screen.  As the camera panned round

the room there were gasps.  There were boxes of different sizes piled up and what looked like

two chests with rounded tops.

     "Permission to continue, Master?" Dr Palfrey asked.

     "Of course," the Master said, "But as this is the province of the Pennefather Scholar

we must ask his permission, too.  Mr Fullerton was most adamant on that.  He will be here

soon as well.  He and I with the Chaplain are the Trustees of the Pennefather Bequest, but

that states that the set is the property of the Scholar except for the containing walls."  He

laughed.  "I see we may have some difficulties over ownership of anything found.  I've

already had a phone call from the Master of Magdalene demanding information in case there

is anything from Crowland Abbey.  I have no idea how news travels so fast."

     Dr Palfrey looked at me.  I think he wasn't too concerned about such niceties at the

moment.  "Permission?"

     I said "Yes" and crossed my fingers, "We'll come back when you are ready."

     We left the team ready to take down the rest of the wall.  Dr Palfrey said they would

touch nothing but take photographs of everything in situ.

     The Master had two cups of tea while we waited and wanted to hear how I got the

harpsichord, still swathed in its protective plastic.  He smiled.  "Our Dr Al‑Hamed is a great

asset to the College and we are looking forward to his son joining us at Easter.  He's at the

Sorbonne at the moment doing some research.  He is sharing teaching rooms with your

cousin, I hear.  At least Mr Finch‑Hampton left a legacy of good teaching.  One of his other

pupils has just been appointed to King's in London."

     He listened with an enigmatic smile on his face as I told him about the birthmarks

and the relationships.  "My boy," he said and laughed as I finished, "You seem to have both

the happy knack and the unhappy knack of being in the right place at the right time.  I

suppose I'd better say,  keep it up!"  I laughed and nodded. as we heard someone coming up

the steps.

     Dr Palfrey and the lady, Dr Masterton, came into the room.  "We're ready," he said with a

great smile,  "We've counted twenty wooden boxes of different sizes and there are two of the

iron‑bound chests which were commonly used for storage at the time.  They are all in good

condition.  Dry and no sign of rot.  May we have permission to open a couple and assess what

may be inside?  There are pieces of parchment nailed to each."  He chuckled.  "Mr Fane‑

Stuart was right.  Crowland and Sempringham are mentioned.  But first, I would like to

examine the topmost box on the pile nearest the entrance we've made.  It's the nearest to that

opening and the smallest.  It has no label nailed but this was lying on top."  He held up a

small strip of parchment.  "I took the liberty of bringing it up as it seems to be a continuation

of the code."  He laid the strip on the dining table and weighted the ends with two tumblers I

had put out ready for cold drinks.

     We looked attentively.  There were five rows of seven spaced letters.  I went to my

study and got the pad of paper with my working out of the previous code.  I copied down the

letters carefully:

          P   Z   L   N   L   B   O

          G   H   X   Q   B   D   L

          F   O   Z   B   O   P   H

          U   B   G   T   B   F   E

          Z   B   O   F   E   L   G

     "Short and sweet, five sevens," the Master said.  "What will you do?"

     "I'll try the first code.  It may be the same or we may have to find another starting

sequence."