On Monday morning, shortly after Bryce and Curtis arrived at the fitness center, they were joined again by Roland Lyle.
“Hey, Roland. I see you got here a little earlier than last time,” Bryce greeted him.
“Yeah. I decided that it was a lot better working out with you guys than trying to do anything on my own. I’m trying to get John Luke to come at this hour, too, but so far he prefers the comfort of his bed,” Roland grinned.
“Damon is the same,” Bryce commiserated.
“Besides, I can’t hang around later, like I did on Friday,” Roland added.
“Why is that?” Bryce asked.
“I have a German class that meets four days a week at nine. Every day except Friday,” Roland explained.
“Oh, yeah. Damon has a Spanish class like that, except his class meets at one o’clock,” Bryce commented.
“Do all the language classes run on a schedule like that?” Roland asked.
“No,” Curtis said. “Only the Introductory and Intermediate classes. And it’s not always Monday through Thursday. It could be any four days.”
“That’s right,” Bryce added. “I’m in an upper division French class, and it meets three days a week, like most of my other classes.”
“Okay. Just wondering,” Roland said, as they prepared to go through some of their exercises.
As they were leaving shortly before eight o’clock, Bryce noticed that Roland was walking, too. “Don’t you have a car?” he asked.
“I do, but it’s such a short distance from the house to campus that I don’t use it for these trips,” Roland said.
“Oh. I just assumed you lived out somewhere, like Beau. I know he lives in a subdivision called Crestwood, and that’s some distance out,” Bryce explained his assumptions.
“Beau lives with his parents, but I live with our grandparents, in St. James Court not far from here,” Roland explained.
“I know where your grandparents live,” Bryce said. “Damon and I drove by there one day a couple of weeks ago, when we were just exploring the city. That was before classes began, but we met your grandparents at the Shelbyville Horse Show.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t make that show because of a pre-season planning session with the lacrosse team,” Roland lamented. “I hated to miss it, but for me lacrosse comes before equestrian competitions.”
“That shows appalling judgement,” Bryce kidded, as they walked together towards the Caldwell house and the Lyle home not far away. That comment led to some extended exchanges, but eventually they got back to the matter of Roland’s place of residence.
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but why are you living with your grandparents? Are your parents dead?” Bryce asked.
“You are nosy. If I were you, I wouldn’t answer that, Roland,” Curtis kidded.
Roland looked serious. “I guess it’ll come out eventually, especially if I pledge that fraternity of yours. I’m living with my grandparents because my father basically tossed me out when he found out I’m gay. That was last year, and I have Terry Lomax, the father of Bick and Buck, to thank for that. Buck told his dad John Luke and I were an item, even before we were, just because I defended John Luke when Buck was gassing off. His dad then told my dad, and the shit hit the fan. Thank God for the grandparents. They’ve been great. Not only did they take me in, but they’re paying for my education. And they told my dad he was not welcome at their place until he changed his attitude.”
“I’m sorry, Roland,” Bryce said. “I didn’t mean to put you through this account. I guess I was just being nosy. Again, I apologize.”
Roland took a deep breath. “It’s okay. Like I said, it would have come out anyway.”
“Tomorrow begins rush week. I expect to see you at the Sigma Alpha Tau house, and more than once,” Curtis said, purposely changing the subject.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Roland promised. “Beau would never forgive me otherwise, and he’s another good one. He and his parents and Amy have been just great. Only my folks and my brother Brian are the homophobes in the family, thank goodness.”
They reached a corner, and there their routes diverged. Curtis and Bryce turned towards the Caldwell house, while Roland continued towards his grandparents’ home.
“One of these days, your curiosity is going to get you in real trouble,” Curtis commented.
“Yeah. That was real insensitive of me. I’ll have to make it up to Roland sometime soon,” Bryce admitted.
Back at their apartment, over breakfast Bryce imparted to Damon the information he had picked up that morning and admitted his blunder with Roland. Damon gave him an ‘I told you so’ look.
******
A little later, Bryce arrived at his French class. Marc Rimbault was again there before him.
“Are you going to organize a study group for the Renaissance class?” Bryce asked him.
“I kind of thought you might do that, since I did this one,” Marc replied.
“No way. I’m doing the medieval England class, and besides, the Renaissance is not exactly my strong point, and I’m not sure I can help others with Dr. Belzi’s approach to the subject,” Bryce objected.
Marc chuckled. “I noticed you squirming a couple of times when he made comments about the Church,”
“And I noticed you nodding in approval. But that’s a good reason why I won’t be the one to organize a study group,” Bryce stated firmly.
“Okay. We’ll just have to see whether anyone else does, then,” Marc concluded. “What are you writing on?”
“The Borgias,” Bryce admitted, cautious about how Marc would take that.
“Oh, trying to do a whitewash job?” Marc jibed.
“Trying to do an historian’s job,” Bryce replied with some feeling. He resented the implication that he would engage in propaganda rather than history. “I did come across this book by a guy named Meyers that tries to present a more positive interpretation, but I’m having some difficulty buying his arguments.”
“I thought you would jump at anything like that,” Marc sarcastically commented.
“I just want to find the truth,” Bryce said, as he ostentatiously walked away and sat some distance from Marc this morning.
******
After his English class, Bryce walked over to the fraternity house. He had arranged to meet Jason Todd and Keith Hamilton there a little after eleven. Keith was the fraternity treasurer this year, and Bryce was going to pay Jason’s dues. He offered to give Jason the money privately, but Jason insisted that Keith, and anyone else around at the time, witness the event.
Bryce met Jason in the entrance hall, and they proceeded to the office, where they met Keith.
“Okay, guys, what’s up?” Keith asked.
Jason immediately pre-empted anything Bryce might say. “Bryce is going to pay my dues for the semester.”
Keith looked at both guys, obviously wondering what was going on here. “Okay,” he cautiously responded. “I’m glad to get that cleared up.”
“If anyone asks, tell them Bryce paid for me,” Jason insisted.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Keith said, laying down his pen and looking from one to the other.
Bryce was scarlet with embarrassment, and said nothing.
Jason insisted, “Bryce is being a real hero, accepting me after all I did last spring, and helping my boyfriend, and now he offers to pay my dues and not ask for repayment until it’s convenient for me. I want him to get the credit. He’s a better example of the ideals the fraternity talks about than anyone else I know.”
“Jason, really …” Bryce began.
“No, I mean it. Not many people have been there when I needed it, and you have. You deserve the credit,” Jason insisted more strongly.
“Here,” Bryce said, handing Keith a check. “Can we bring this to a close?”
Keith smiled. He accepted the check, and made the proper notation in his account book. “All done. The rest, I leave to you two.”
Bryce and Jason walked out to the lounge area. Jason saw Bob Balducci, and started to tell him about Bryce’s generosity. Bryce ducked down the stairs to the basement lounge, where he encountered Beau Lyle drinking a beer.
******
“I’ll have one of those,” Bryce said with some desperation. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and began to down it too quickly. Then he noticed Beau looking kind of harried and dazed.
“What have you been up to?” he asked. “You kind of look like I feel.”
“Do you know Madison McKinley?” Beau asked.
“Don’t believe I do. Why?” Bryce asked.
“She’s one of the cheerleaders. I’m sure you saw her at the game a week ago Saturday,” Beau insisted.
“Could be, but I don’t remember knowing the names of any of the cheerleaders,” Bryce replied. “What’s up with her?”
“I had a date with her last evening. Kind of a reward to myself for the job I did at the horse show, you know,” Beau began to explain. “I mean, she’s a knockout, and she has a reputation, if you know what I mean.”
“So you were expecting to get laid,” Bryce concluded with a grin.
“Yeah. I took her to a film at the Savoy. One of those B level romantic things. Chick flick. The most boring drivel I’ve ever sat through. She loved it. Then we went out to get something to eat. All through the burgers she talked about the actors, and who was screwing whom. Then it was about the other girls on the cheerleading squad, and who was screwing whom. Then it was about her favorite bands. I think she knows the words to every tune on this week’s top twenty.” Beau looked exhausted simply by recounting his experiences.
“Yeah, and …?” Bryce encouraged him.
“Then it was about the latest flap of her favorite rock idol, and who he’s screwing. There was nothing for me to say the entire evening. Absolutely no real content to anything. I have never been so bored in my life. The woman is the most superficial, shallow person I’ve ever encountered. She makes Harry Dwyer look like a candidate for Mensa,” Beau complained.
Bryce could not help but laugh. “So, I take it you did not get laid.”
“Oh, yes, I did. But she talked through that, too. I think it was about Justin Bieber, but my mind was numbed by then. Believe me, it was not worth it,” Beau declared as he downed the remaining portions of his beer and reached for another.
Bryce excused himself, saying he had to meet Damon for lunch. He did not want to laugh at Beau, he looked so down, but it was funny. And face it, a lot of people are like Madison.
It was a real pleasure to just listen to Damon and Caroline discussing menus, and again trying to decide what this told him about his partner, so Bryce allowed himself to be passive and receptive, and kept his mouth shut for most of the lunch hour. He considered his boyfriend, and his friend Caroline, and was thankful for them after experiencing and hearing about the doings of some others.
He found the phrase “the wide Missouri” going through his head, from the song, “Oh, Shenandoah.” He had seen the Missouri on a couple of trips while in high school. The description “a mile wide and six inches deep” seemed to apply to some people as well as to some streams. Damon might have had a poor schooling, and Caroline had her peculiarities, but neither of them were superficial or shallow.
******
After lunch, Bryce spent some time in the library, and then made his way to Dr. Dickinson’s office in Filson Hall. He had two objects in mind. He found the professor in his office.
“Enter,” Dr. Dickinson invited in his inimitable manner. Then, seeing who it was, he greeted Bryce. “Ah, Mr. Winslow. Come in, come in. What can I do for you?”
“Two things, Professor. First, I have taken the lead in organizing the study group for the upcoming class. I was wondering whether we might use the same seminar room we did last term? We will meet on Wednesdays from four to six,” Bryce explained.
“Four to six? I think that can be arranged. As far as I know, there is no class scheduled for that space at that time,” Dr. Dickinson said. “We can check with the departmental office before class.”
“Speaking of the class, I have here my proposal for a term paper topic,” Bryce said, handing the professor a sheet of paper.
“Ah! I was wondering about that. You have not been as prompt as in the past,” the instructor commented as he perused the proposal. “Ah ha! The reputation of Richard Lionheart. An interesting topic. Yes, I think that is quite appropriate. Somehow, I expected something on Thomas of Canterbury from you.”
Bryce smiled. “I can do that if you wish, but I decided to act counter to my reputation for being obsessed with religion.”
John Dickinson laughed, something he was not known to do frequently. “Keep them guessing. Very good! Very good! I’ll be interested to see what you do with Richard.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Bryce smiled.
They went down to the History Department office and checked on the seminar room, and, as Dr. Dickinson thought, found it free at the time needed for the study group. In consequence, it was now scheduled on Wednesdays from four to six. Bryce took the time before class began to e-mail those who expressed an interest. He had spoken earlier to the one student who had said he could not meet then, and explained the situation. The student, another sophomore named Kevin Weatherington, said he worked at that time, but would see what he could do. Just before class began, he told Bryce he had been able to shift his work hours, so he could meet then as well. That was a relief. Bryce hated to leave out anyone who was really interested.
******
Dr. Dickinson lectured that Monday on the Viking invasions, which destroyed all the native English kingdoms except Wessex, allowing King Alfred the Great to emerge as the unchallenged champion of the native English against the invaders. But it was not until the time of Alfred’s grandson that there was a single Kingdom of England with a single king, combining native and Danish areas. And the raids from Scandinavia were by no means over. The instructor discussed the Danish raids under King Ethelred the Unrede. He explained that the old English word “unrede” meant “without good counsel.” But then he cited what he called “the only Memorable History of England.” This was a slim volume entitled 1066 and All That: A Memorable History of England, comprising all the parts you can remember, including 103 Good Things, 5 Bad Kings, and 2 Genuine Dates, published in 1930 by Walter Carrithers Sellar and Robert Julian Yeatman, illustrated by John Reynolds. They wrote: “Ethelread the Unready was the first Weak King of England and was thus the cause of a fresh Wave of Danes. He was called the Unready because he was never ready when the Danes were.” Dr. Dickinson’s citing this source evidently confused quite a large portion of the class, but he exited the room chuckling. Bryce decided to see whether there was a copy in the library, and make sure to bring it to the study group on Wednesday. He had an hour after this class before his appointment with Father Miller so he rushed over to the library. There, he did indeed locate a copy of 1066 and All That.
As he was checking it out, Roland Lyle entered the library and walked up to him. When he saw what Bryce had, he complained, “Damn! That’s just what I came to check on.”
“I plan to bring it to the study group on Wednesday,” Bryce assuaged him.
“Okay, but I get first dibs on reading it when you’re finished,” Roland insisted.
Bryce sat in one of the lounges in the library and read his acquisition until it was time to depart for the Newman Center. His chuckles, and an occasional belly laugh, caused others to look at him with curiosity, and perhaps a bit of annoyance.
******
Shortly before four, Bryce appeared at the reception desk at the Newman Center.
“Good afternoon, Patricia Murphy. And how are you this fine day?” he greeted the secretary/receptionist.
Patricia gave Bryce a searching look. “What are you up to, Bryce Winslow?”
“Why should I be up to anything?” he responded.
“You shouldn’t be, but you usually are. Last time I had to put up with your horrible imitation of an Irish accent,” she complained.
“Was it really that bad?” Bryce asked.
Patricia nodded, “It was.”
At that time, the door to the chaplain’s office opened, and Father Miller emerged with another student. He shook hands with the student, and said a few encouraging words. Then, looking towards the desk, he recognized Bryce.
“Ah, Bryce. Glad to see you again. Do come in.”
Once they were comfortably settled, Father Miller continued, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? You don’t look as troubled as you did this time last year, I’m glad to see.”
“No, I’m in pretty good shape. I want to talk to you about being my spiritual advisor. But before getting into that, I want to tell you about another student I recently encountered,” Bryce said.
Bryce then related his meeting on Sunday with Nate Hagan. He concluded, “I made this appointment before meeting Nate, but if I’m going to play second fiddle to you, I will definitely need some added guidance.”
Father Miller took a few seconds to consider his response to all this. “You say Nate is also gay, and with a boyfriend who is not a member of any church?” he asked for confirmation.
“Yeah, kind of like me in that respect,” Bryce said.
“And you’re sure he comes from Marion County and the Bardstown region?” the priest pressed.
“That’s what he told me,” Bryce replied.
“It’s probably best that you talk to him at this stage of things, rather than me. In addition to his reluctance to come here, if this is the young man I think it is, I know him and his family. Do you have any more information on the family?” Father Miller asked.
“Well, he said they had been on their farm for over two hundred years, and were among the families who came to Kentucky from Maryland in the 1780s. His grandfather worked for Heaven Hill Distillery before retiring, and lives in Bardstown,” Bryce recalled.
Father Miller sighed. “I’m sure it’s the same person. Not only do I know the family, I’m distantly related to them. I come from that same area. My mother was an Edelen, and I believe Nate’s grandmother is her second cousin. That might make it awkward for him to talk to me until he’s more sure where he stands.”
“Wow, what a coincidence,” Bryce exclaimed.
Father Miller smiled. “Not really. Our area has been supplying priests for the diocese since the days of Martin John Spalding. I appreciate you taking on the task of counseling Nate. If you have any questions along those lines, please contact me.”
“Sure, Father.”
“Now, what’s this about being your spiritual advisor?” the chaplain asked.
Bryce smiled. “Damon was a bit concerned when I told him what I was doing last week. He thought I might be having new doubts about being gay and Catholic. When I told him I needed someone to keep me on the straight and narrow, he objected that he did not want anyone advising me to be straight,” Bryce laughed.
Father Miller joined in the laughter.
“I feel the need of an outside control to prevent me from fooling myself into believing something is so just because I want it to be,” Bryce explained, and expanded on that theme.
“That is wise, and not all that common. I see you’ve given this some thought. Are you having any specific problem right now?” the priest asked.
“Not really, but there are a few things I want to run by you. And I want to tell you about some of our experiences in Europe this summer. We spent more time in Rome than any other one place, and had a couple of interesting conversations with Father Long, a priest from Lincoln,” Bryce outlined.
“That sounds like a reasonable and very responsible approach. What did you have in mind as far as our meetings?”
“Well, I know you’re busy.” Bryce got a grin across his face. “Patricia tells me so. Instead of every week, like last year, maybe every second week?”
“Yes, I think that is do-able,” Father Miller said. “Is this time a good one for you?”
“Yes. I have class on Monday until three, but I can always spend the next hour in the library,” Bryce agreed.
“All right. Let’s go see whether Pat will permit us to get together every other Monday at four,” Father smiled.
When Patricia was consulted about the schedule, she sighed a great west of Ireland sigh, which sounds like something between an asthma attack and a small cyclone. “Do you mean to tell me I’m going to have to put up with this joker every other week all semester long?” she put on an aggrieved act.
“I’m afraid so,” the priest said, “But we’ll count it as part of your penance for your many sins over the summer.”
Patricia actually blushed.
“Oops, I think I hit a nerve,” Father Miller deduced.
“It’s a good thing I’m graduating in May. If I continued to associate with the likes of you two much longer, I’d become a complete unbeliever,” Patricia threatened.
******
That settled, Bryce departed to have dinner with Damon before his meeting with Nate Hagan that evening. When he got to the apartment, however, he found not only Damon, but Jason Todd and Nate Hagan awaiting him in the common room.
“Hey. Did I get something wrong? I thought we were meeting at seven,” Bryce enquired.
“No. It’s just that we were hanging out in the Union, and ran across Damon and someone named Caroline,” Jason began.
“That’s me,” Caroline said, emerging from the kitchen. “Damon and I decided to prepare a dinner for you guys, so just enjoy yourselves for another hour or so, and then prepare to eat.” Damon rose to join Caroline in the kitchen.
“If it’s anything like as good as the breakfast Damon prepared yesterday morning, I’ll be forever grateful,” Nate kidded.
“Count on it,” Damon told him.
So Bryce, Jason, and Nate settled in for some leisure time while the other two worked. Bryce did inform Nate of his meeting with Father Miller, but assured him that there was no pressure on that front. “In fact, he said it was better that I talk to you at this point, as he’s some kind of cousin of yours,” Bryce told Nate.
“I thought that’s who that was,” Nate commented. “My grandma said her cousin was the chaplain here, but I never knew him all that well, and did not recognize him the few times I’ve been to Mass at Newman.”
“Is that a problem?” Bryce asked.
“Probably not. Unless you decide to blab everything I say,” Nate responded with a grin.
“I will be as discrete as possible, and will not say anything to Father without running it by you first,” Bryce promised.
“Kind of like the seal of the confessional, but with an escape clause,” Nate observed.
“What’s this seal of the confessional?” Jason asked.
“It’s a part of Catholic canon law. A priest cannot reveal anything he learns in the confessional, not only by saying something, but even by the way he acts towards the penitent,” Bryce explained.
“Oh, come on. That sounds positively medieval,” Jason objected. “Surely things have to be revealed if there’s a crime or something involved. The government would insist.”
“No, not at all. The seal is absolute,” Bryce insisted. “It would be a bad priest who revealed anything. I am reminded of the case of Abbé Doumoulin, a French priest in the later nineteenth century. I don’t recall all the details, but the gist of the story is that a woman was murdered. The murderer confessed to the Abbé. Then, for some reason the police decided the priest was guilty. He asserted his innocence, but said nothing about the confession. He was found guilty and sent to Devil’s Island for something like twenty years before the real murderer confessed and he was released.”
“And there is a medieval example,” Nate added. “King Wenceslaus IV of Bohemia, who is definitely not the good King Wenceslaus of the Christmas carol, thought his wife was cheating on him, and demanded that her confessor, John Nepomuk, tell him what the Queen said in confession. The priest refused, and the King had him killed. He was weighed down and tossed off the Charles Bridge in Prague. Kind of a Czech version of the mafia killings. He’s considered a saint now.”
“You mean a priest cannot tell what he hears in confession even if there’s a crime involved?” Jason said in disbelief. “How can you get away with that?”
“As far the Catholic Church is concerned, there are limits to the authority of any secular government, and the sanctity of the confessional is one of them. As I said, it’s absolute,” Bryce insisted. “Without that, the penitent could have no confidence in telling the priest his sins. Remember the words of St. Thomas More as he was about to have his head cut off on order of King Henry VIII: ‘I die the King’s good servant, but God’s first.’”
Jason just shook his head as they went in to dinner.