Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
A Sequel
by
Joel
Seq 15:
Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mark Henry Foster The story-teller: Newly graduated. Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend. Trainee Solicitor Francis Michael Foster Alias Toad/Gobbo Mark's younger brother Adam Benjamin Carr Mark's cousin: History don Ivo Richie Carr Ditto, as his twin: safely married diplomat Sophia Carr Their mother in Dorset George Carr Their father: A farmer Victoria ['Tory] Carr Ivo's wife Lady Mary Machin 'Tory's mother Mr James Marriott Head of Legation Andrei zu Glottenberh Rothenian Army Officer [Special Services] Lucasz Voynovich Rothenian Army Officer [Signals Division] Professor zum Adamszberh Rector, Rodolfer University Dr Schreiber Music Faculty staff Frau Schreiber His wife Father Artur [Dr Wendel] Archbishop's Secretary Dr Valentin Organist: St Vitalis Cathedral Strelzen Fraser (Fido) Doggett Plant hunter and 'Yogger Stag' Brett Baldry Ditto
Tuesday
The flight was smooth and uneventful except for the antics of a group of about eight young men. All had bright orange tee-shirts on with the slogan 'Yoggers Stags', without the apostrophe, on the back in large black letters. We'd identified Yogger after going through security and while waiting in the departure lounge. He was large, about twenty-five, round- faced with a perpetual grin, sporting the usual pot-belly of the seasoned beer-drinker and displaying two armfuls of colourful tattoos. As the intended bridegroom he was leader of the group who had all been instructed to "Stock up, lads!" at the duty free shops. All got on the plane bearing plastic bags containing at least two litre bottles of whisky, vodka, gin, or some other sort of alcoholic beverage.
On the plane it was quite clear. This was to be a week for them of a constant piss-up. They asked for plastic cups of orange juice which were then liberally adulterated with vodka and downed pronto. Even on the relatively short flight three of the group fell asleep and snored loudly. After half an hour the rest of the group fell silent and slurped even more, we thought to the relief of the trolley dollies who included a perfect gem of a young man who managed to quell any uproar with a 'Pop your drinkie in here," intoned in the most camp way as he handed out further cups of orange. He took one look at us, sedately sitting together at the back of the plane, in a row of three seats with no other traveller in the third seat, then winked, and passed over two miniatures of gin and companion tins of tonic. "Compliments of the management and don't tell Angie Droopy-Drawers." He tossed his head in the direction of the head stewardess who was remonstrating with a rather loud American couple who were complaining bitterly about being charged so much for so little. Well, travelling on a budget airline what could you expect.
Budget airlines! We got through passport control quickly enough and then had to wait yonks for our baggage to come through on the carousel. It didn't worry Yogger and his crew. They sat in a circle and passed round a bottle of whisky plus some colourful alcopops which disappeared even faster especially when half-consumed and topped up with whatever else was in their bags. At long last, it must have been at least three-quarters of an hour, the carousel shuddered into motion and bags started to appear for three different flights. Of course, our flight and our bags were the last ones to come off and we hurried to catch the little bus to the train station. Thank God! Yogger and company had managed to stagger onto the first of the shuttles but were waiting on the platform as we had all missed the earlier train thanks to the bag hold-up.
Was I glad when we drew into Kung Rodolf Bahnhof in Strelzen and saw Ivo patiently standing there at the gate. I'd phoned him to explain the delay and say he'd probably have some sozzled Brits to deal with before the week was out. Luckily the train wasn't crowded and Yogger and his mates were able to travel in a compartment mainly by themselves so they could breathe alcoholic fumes over each other and fart loudly and copiously without poisoning other passengers with their toxic emissions.
Ivo looked the complete young diplomat. Dressed down, but dapper with that trimmed black goatee beard and a neat light suit just right for the blast of hot air which had greeted us when we stepped from the train. This part of Europe in high summer can be scorching and it was. After a diplomatic handshake, when both of us wanted to hug him, he led us out to a limousine. The back door was opened by the driver in grey jacket and trousers and Ivo spoke to him in Rothenian. He was about twenty-five, quite short but looked a tough cookie. He smiled when he greeted us with a bow of the head, and I tried "Dobra denn" which I'd got Curt to teach me, and he smiled even more.
"Good day. Your accent is excellent," he said in perfect Oxford accented English.
Ivo laughed. "It's OK," he said, "Andrei's mother is English and he's on secondment to us from the Army here and I'm just practising."
Andrei put out a hand. "Captain-Lieutenant Andrei zu Glottenberh of His Majesty's Guard Dragoons at your service. I know Cambridge well. I have just been on secondment to Waterbeach Barracks and on Mr Carr's recommendation I visited St Mark's. Your treasure house!" The grin told us all. Ivo and Adam's dick, Frankie's balls and Tris's and my erections had been seen and savoured and if my gaydar was on beam I think Andrei was destined for a few more trips to Cambridge. We both shook hands and I noticed he gave Tris a most appraising look.
Ivo laughed. "Come on Andrei, don't drool. That's just my little cousin and his friend in the flesh. You're coming to dinner tonight so you can have a good chat. By the way," He turned to us, "'Tory sends her love but she's at home resting. Looks like a barrel."
"That is most ungallant," Andrei said, "My mother says it's a sure sign of a boy and she told 'Tory that. She should know as there are five of us."
"At least it's not twins, I hope," I said, "Having one set in the family is bad enough."
"Oooh, nasty!" Ivo said and I was helped a little roughly, I thought, into the back of the car.
Just at that moment Yogger's lot emerged from the station. For a group who had consumed a good deal of strong drink they were in an orderly line.
"Anyone here speak English?" Yogger called out, his round face rather flushed.
Ivo nodded at Andei. Andrei went up to them. "May I be of azzizztance?" he said and I nudged Tris as he said this with quite a guttural accent.
"Thanks, mate. We need a couple of taxis for Hotel Miramar and we don't want to be ripped off going miles round." The voice was quite cultured.
"Vait a moment, pleeze." Quite a performance. He went over to the taxi rank. There was a quiet conversation. He returned and with a slight bow said, "Zay haf been instructed. Three euros each person and a tip. I suggest fifteen euros for each taxi." He paused. "Next time try taking a tram. One euro each per journey. Your hotel will have maps." His ersatz-European accent hadn't lasted but I don't think they'd noticed.
"Ta," said Yogger, "Not been here before so we'll have to learn." He herded his mates into the waiting cabs. "Thanks, you'd better get back to your boss. Posh car that!" He gave us a cheery wave. Andrei was smiling broadly as he took the wheel with Ivo sitting next to him.
Actually Yogger didn't seem too bad. Perhaps I was making my mind up too soon. But press stories of Brits Abroad were usually horrendous.
Our journey took us along the Konigstrasse and Ivo pointed out the Opera building and then a road he called 'The Wejg' which he said we should explore carefully. Andrei gave a great snort of laughter when he said that so I didn't enquire further. It was then only a short distance to the Legation, a quite imposing building in a quiet street with two uniformed Rothenian soldiers on guard. They came to attention and saluted as the car came through the open double gates. Wow, I felt like royalty and was staring around as we got out of the car only to be brought back to earth abruptly.
"Come on, don't fanny about, we're late and Mr Marriott has other things to do than dance attendance on a couple of itinerants." Ivo was back to being Ivo. 'Itinerants' I felt was the term used for those travellers who managed to need the services of the Legation. Anyway, I had been briefed. Mr James Marriott I knew was Head of Legation, a product of Gonville and Caius and a contemporary of Tris's Dad and Mr Fullerton. We were ushered straight into his office. He was urbane, friendly and wanted to know how the pair were these days as he'd missed the last college reunion. "Little problems here as you might know."
Knowing growing lads could be hungry and it was past lunchtime we had sandwiches and coffee as he cross-questioned us, me especially, on all the happenings in Cambridge and the search at Michaelhouse. I passed over an envelope addressed to him which had been enclosed with the letter from the Colonel. "I'd better read that later, but knowing Lachlan it'll be instructive." It was also interesting watching and listening to Ivo in this new role. He was listening attentively and making notes as the tales unfolded. He said little but a couple of times asked very pertinent questions. One was had we noticed anything strange at the airports? I reiterated that we had to wait ages for the baggage at Hofbrau. At the end I opened my hand luggage. It was my shoulder bag I usually carried around at College. I extracted the box, still wrapped in its protective piece of towelling.
"If you don't mind we'll keep it in the safe here," Mr Marriott said after I'd unwrapped it and he and Ivo had looked at it closely as it stood on the table. I noted both refrained from touching it. "Father Artur tells me the Cardinal is at the Vatican for the next three weeks and His Eminence has asked if you are willing to wait until he is back to hand the box personally to him rather than taking it straightaway to the Cathedral. I ought to tell you there is to be no publicity before the event because..." Here he looked at Ivo who nodded. "....There are certain factions who have caught wind of something stupendous which is likely to happen. Josep Gregor was probably not the man's real name, but he ended up in the Elbe and we think there are others who probably don't know much but are scrabbling for a bit of the action. I'm afraid it all has to do with the unsettled nature of the country over the past few years. We have great faith in King Rudolf, but he's young and in some eyes he's still a foreigner.
We also have problems with outside groups as well. There is somewhat of a private battle going on between criminal gangs who've been involved in drugs, porn and people trafficking. Drugs and people are big sources of illegal money here, but anything which will generate money is likely to cause interest. My information is that Josep Gregor was working on his own but others became interested." He smiled. "Sounds awful, but other than that you will find the people here are very friendly. I know the Maths Faculty are agog. For my sins I read Maths when up but didn't do too well. Too much river..." 'Half-Blue and a Tutu' whispered Ivo and Mr Marriott shook a friendly fist at him. "...Much against my good judgement I joined the Foreign Office. It's in the family, my father and grandfather before me, but I've tried to keep an interest in the Maths." He laughed. "I'm registered for a Master's here so I'll probably pick your brains over recent advances in Group Theory."
Ivo was almost reverting to type making la-la faces and screwing his face up, luckily out of sight of Mr Marriott who, of course, knew exactly what was happening as he could see a reflection in the long mirror on the opposite wall. I knew there was a friendship here and an understanding.
Tris had said little during the meeting. Now he looked straight at Mr Marriott. "Are you telling us we might be in some danger?" he asked quite bluntly.
Mr Marriott sat back. "I don't know. As well as the factions vying for supremacy there are also strange things going on here which most people won't, or can't talk about. I know of a couple of unexplained disappearances as I have had to handle the Legation side for one of them. I'm being perfectly frank. I just don't know. Mark has told of the experiences so far with the box. It may look ordinary but my guess is it is all part of the strange and mystical nature of the place." He paused. "I use the word mystical advisably and with feeling. I was present at the installation of the King and there was a sense of great awe and a presence which I and others I have spoken to also knew was there. You mentioned the word guardian. I feel there is an over- reaching guardian here for all those who are intent on doing good. It might sound strange coming from a no-nonsense English diplomat but that is my considered opinion."
There was a silence while we all stared at the box. Then Ivo spoke.
"Sir, I know exactly what you mean. 'Tory and I visited the cathedral soon after we arrived here and quite unaware we entered the Guthlacstejn side-chapel which we found afterwards isn't usually open. Quite spontaneously we both knelt and we felt a sense of peace and a blessing." He looked round at the three of us. "You are the first I've told about that and it's a memory and feeling I will never forget. We knew we were accepted in this country and I vowed there and then to try to do my best. That's why we want our child to be born here too."
So that solved that. I knew Aunt Sophie and Mum had had several phone conversations which she'd told me about. Aunt Sophie had said 'Tory's Mum was worried about the standards in the hospitals here and Frankie, on overhearing one discussion, had got on the Internet and found there was nothing to worry about, levels of MRSA and clostridium difficile were minimal and the maternity wards in Strelzen were fully staffed with highly-trained medics and nurses. Anyway, Aunt Sophie and Mary Machin were both arriving at the beginning of next week. I looked at Ivo. I wondered how he would cope with both his mother and mother-in-law. Diplomatic tact would be needed!
We parted soon after we watched the re-wrapped box placed in a safe in the corner of Mr Marriott's office. Ivo said no more car, we would arrive at the hotel like any two students on foot dragging our trolley bags behind us. He would escort us as he didn't want us to get lost on the first day but armed with maps we would be on our own after that. Except, and this was said with a smile, "I'll be at the ready in case!"
The manager was a friendly soul, very anxious to try out his reasonable English. He gave us keys to the rooms, maps and a small phrase-book and chatted to Ivo in Rothenian as we peered at the clearly marked up route to the various Faculties on the map on the wall of the Reception area. Luckily 'Mathematica' was straightforward and was more or less round the corner in a very old building from the photo in the students' handbook he gave us as well.
"Let's get your stuff upstairs. You have a double room and study, separate beds though," Ivo added the last a bit quieter.
We were on the second floor. Room 201. A tiny lift but the stairs were OK. We shoved our cases on the beds and explored the rest. We had an adjoining bathroom and loo and quite a big study room off the bedroom. That had been decorated by a previous occupant who was taken with space travel from the large posters and pictures on the walls. There was a small television set, a phone on a shelf between the two beds and an Internet connection in the study. All mod cons as I knew Tris had brought his lap-top in his hand luggage.
I was only half listening to Ivo as he explained to Tris how to get to where he and 'Tory lived. I went to open my case and was surprised. The little padlock I'd used to hold the two zips was no longer there. I opened the lid carefully and realised the inside had been searched. I'd been quite tidy in packing the two best shirts which Mum had ironed and warned me to pack carefully. They were rumpled and removing them I realised something was missing. The sock with the pencil-box in it had gone.
"Ivo, something's happened!"
He was immediately alert. I told him what was missing. He grinned and then was deadly serious.
"Leave your case. Don't touch anything. I must contact someone." He drew out his mobile and speed-dialled as Tris and I looked at each other. A rapid torrent of Rothenian followed. When he finished he looked very thoughtful. "I think someone is going to be rather pissed off when the sock is delivered. I've just contacted the head of Security forces here. He's sending over a rather senior officer. Shouldn't be long."
In the interval we had a look at Tris's case. His had been searched as well. "Don't touch" was Ivo's instruction. We moved to the study and decided the previous occupants were also very sexually active. In a drawer of the desk were three packs of condoms. "Wrong conclusion," averred Tris, "None used. Probably hoping. Look." Nestled at the back of the drawer were three wads of tissue. They had been used for the usual purpose and shoved away rather than being disposed of down the loo. "What do you deduce further?" he asked us.
"A bored student sitting at his desk, dick in hand," I said.
"Honestly, Mark," said Ivo bursting into laughter, "I'd guess two bored students in competition." He pointed at a small 'tear-off each month' calender pinned to the cork-board behind the desk. The month of Maj/Mai/Mai/May had not been torn off. Neat rows of dots in two different colours, one or two a day with totals at the end of each week. I did a quick calculation - they matched, just over eleven a week each for the month.
"Boys will be boys," said Tris sententiously when I announced the joint scores, "But you would have forgotten such things, Ivo, now you're married."
"Bit near the mark, young sir," said Ivo, once again serious. "Pregnant wife means no relief that way for quite a time. Nothing against pregnancy but it's a bit limiting on hubby." He laughed. "At least it's not likely to affect you two. I was going to say lucky buggers but you'd probably have me up for discrimination or not being politically correct."
Tris looked rather crestfallen. "Sorry, Ivo, never thought about such things. I suppose I imagined continuous joyful conjugations. And as for us, sticks and stones!"
Ivo smiled. "I can tell you, just imagining our baby growing in there is compensation enough. 'Tory says the same. We've managed."
There was a rap on the door to the bedroom. Ivo went quickly through. Two men in plain-clothes were there. They showed their identity cards to Ivo and we were introduced to the pair who were senior officers in State Security. Very efficiently they took our fingerprints to check against others they lifted with sticky tape from the bags. They had obviously been primed with information about one reason for our presence in the country.
In good English one told us that there had been a set-to at the airport this morning. It had been thought it was just a spat between rival groups of baggage-handlers which had delayed three flights of passengers' luggage but, later, two of the usual baggage-handlers had been found gagged and trussed up and locked in a disused storeroom. On close questioning one group had admitted they had been offered money to employ two replacements for their missing mates who they'd imagined had been out drinking the night before. His English was pretty colloquial.
"The fucking security at that place is up shit creek without a paddle now and it'll be worse for them when we can tell them what's happened here. This is top secret at the moment as Mr Marriott has told you. There'll be hell to pay when the Palace hears of it and the Cardinal's not going to be too pleased either. Good job you carried the box through with you." He laughed. "I think we know who might have your pencil-case and there might be a little retribution as we think quite a sum of money has already changed hands."
He exchanged a few words with Ivo in Rothenian and then gave Tris and me a number to put in our phones with no name. "Use Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck if you like," he said with a grin, "And I'll have yours, please." We give him our numbers and he and his pal tapped them in. "Anyway, we'll keep Mr Marriott informed. You'll be OK. Just go about normally." After that he explained he'd been at Scotland Yard last year for six months and was an avid supporter of Chelsea soccer club as they were thinking of importing a star Rothenian player. He and his mostly silent partner shook hands and went.
Ivo breathed a sigh of relief when they went. "I've met the Adjutant before on a couple of occasions and he's very efficient. I'll have to report to the Boss so while you tart yourselves up I'll just call him and deal with it. Piss off into there and make sure you wash under your arms as I bet you're stinky and then change into something decent."
We pissed off, dealing with that essential first as Mr Marriott's coffee had percolated downwards with a vengeance. We unpacked and hung our things up and wondered what we would do about clothes washing without our attentive Sean and Liam or our Mums. As we were meeting 'Tory for the first time on her own territory we dressed in quietly neat tops and slacks and appraised each other positively. Even Ivo smiled when he emerged from his lengthy conflab on his mobile with Mr Marriott.
"Right, dear souls, let's be off. I'll show you the Maths Faculty as it's en route."
I asked where we could buy some flowers. He told us there were plenty of little florists as most inhabitants of Strelzen lived in flats and valued floral arrangements. On the way out we found out our hotel manager's name was Ignasz, which he insisted we called him. He said he expected the hotel to be busy again now many of the students had gone home for the vacation as he had bookings for holiday makers from France, Germany and England. He showed us the code to open the door if we came back very late. He said he changed it every day so we must ask. He never enquired about our two visitors.
"Very useful to keep in with him," Ivo said as we stepped into the busy street. I kept a careful look out for landmarks and noticed a rather nice looking cafe next door to a delicatessen. Menus in the window of the cafe were in two languages and my limited knowledge of German let me translate 'Fruhstuck' as breakfast and it was three euros. Priced for students I guessed. The Mathematical Faculty building was still open but we didn't stop to peer inside. "Plenty of time for that tomorrow," Ivo said as he guided us across the road. About two blocks on we turned into a leafy street, trees on either side of the road with mostly well-kept three-storey houses on either side.
Ivo explained that most of the houses were divided into three quite spacious flats, with at least four bedrooms, and they had one on the first floor for security purposes. He said quite a few of the University staff also lived around and, in fact, one of the staff on the Music Faculty lived in the ground floor flat of their house.
"Herr Schreiber and his wife are very friendly. Frau Schreiber pops up to see 'Tory most days and she's helping their son with his English." He poked me in the arm. "He's a real sweetie, just seventeen and never been kissed, I guess. He plays the cello and is pretty good and I think the daughter plays in the orchestra at the Opera."
I said it might be an opening to us visiting the Opera if we met the family and I told him about the two opera scores. He said a visit was easily arranged. As we got nearer their house he pointed out two other houses where members of other Embassies or Legations lived and I got the impression that the whole place seemed to be deemed safe.
As he unlocked the door of their flat a wonderful smell assailed our nostrils. A heady, spicy, meaty aroma of something exotic cooking. 'Tory appeared, looking radiantly healthy and very plump. We were hugged and kissed and led through to a quite spacious sitting room. I had never really thought of my cousin in his married state but here he was offering us pre-prandial drinks while 'Tory was extracting news and gossip from us. I was congratulated once again and our news about the offer of the flat was greatly approved of.
"Rather like being the office cat living on the premises. Imagine though, Tris, just rolling out of bed and down the stairs to work," said Ivo. "Bit like still being a student but with work added! And him..." He pointed at me, "...lazing around at the tax-payers' expense at least for another year."
"Stop teasing," 'Tory said, "They both deserve whatever they get and you should be the first to praise them." She smiled at me. "You've certainly carried on the family traditions and Francis is next in line."
Very true. Thinking about it our genes were good. Change the subject.
"When is it due?" I asked. Then wondered if I should have referred to 'it' as 'it'. A semantic point but did they know the sex already. I'd heard they could tell from scans. Little boys could be distinguished from little girls fairly easily I'd read.
"Should be the end of the month but..." She looked at Ivo, "...we're not quite sure..."
There was obviously a little doubt...
"Better say." Ivo grinned.
"Trouble was, I forgot to take the pill and suddenly remembered and Ivo said 'What the hell!' and that was that. We just let nature take it's course." She smiled. "It's just something I've always wanted, anyway. I still want a career but kids come first."
Ivo put his hand out and she grasped it. "This is our first," he said, "But we want more."
The 'we' did it. It was something Tris and I could never achieve... ...Unless... "You're very lucky," I said, "I think it'll be our only sadness..."
'Tory laughed. "But you can be Uncles of first call, don't worry. First sign of stroppiness, male or female, and they'll be left on your doorstep. My Auntie Lorna has had me dumped on her several times when Mum got too exasperated."
Tris chuckled. "I think female hormonal development differs from that of males. Mum says she's had more spats with Shelley than with me. Sorry 'Tory, but girls get very moody."
"Too true," said 'Tory. "There are three of us and the screeching at times is something quite horrid."
"I don't believe it," I said, "At the wedding your sisters looked quite demure. There was even a hint of a maidenly blush when my brother was talking to Polly." Thank goodness I'd remembered her name.
'Tory laughed. "Polly told me he asked her whether she had a boyfriend and was staring rather pointedly at her bosom."
Should I defend the Toad? Un peu! "I doubt it. He was just demurely casting his eyes down in the presence of such beauty."
Ivo snorted. "Come off it, Marky, you know Microbe better than that. I shudder to think what'll happen when he's let loose next year at College."
'Tory laughed. "No more than his cousin, eh?"
The topic changed and we heard about Ivo's work in general at the Legation. Mainly, as far as he let on, shadowing Mr Marriott and dealing with minor crises. There was only a small staff but they were kept busy. The Military Attache was a Captain in the Marines and spent a lot of his time advising on training for the officers of the Rothenian Army who all seemed dead keen on being seconded to British regiments for experience. I asked about Andrei.
Ivo smiled. "He's from one of the oldest aristocratic families in Rothenia. A very special relationship with the Palace I might add and, not to go further, he's been to Hereford as well."
So, the tough cookie had been to the SAS training school as well.
He continued. "I can't tell you any more, but he's keeping a special eye on me. He's become a great friend and he adores 'Tory. Doesn't he, ducks?" 'Tory laughed and nodded. "He's got a very special friend who's one rank below him and the pair are the fencing champions of the country." He smiled. "Keeps the tongues from wagging."
So, my gaydar had been up and running.
"No gossip," said 'Tory. "I've invited Lucasz tonight as well and they'll be here at seven."
A moment after seven Ivo held a thumb up. We heard the faint sounds of a powerful motorbike. Tris and I went with Ivo to the door of the flat as he opened it. Two grinning young men stood there, holding their crash helmets and clad in dark blue voluminous dungarees. A quick introduction to the taller Lucasz and they stripped off their coveralls and showed they were in tops and slacks just like us.
Seconds later 'Tory was hugged and presented with even more flowers. More drinks were handed round and we were fully introduced. Lucasz's English wasn't as fluent as Andrei's and he had a sort of Mid-Atlantic accent which I guessed was due to his six months at an American base in Germany. He was eager to visit England so the pair were given invitations - anytime.
Dinner was superb. 'Tory confessed that Mrs Schreiber had helped her prepare the wonderful goulash. We were also introduced to a special red berry flan and quite smelly cheeses which tasted gorgeous. We could see that Andrei and Lucasz really enjoyed being in Ivo and 'Tory's company and we could also see how two slightly older young men could be in love with each other. There was nothing overt but the exchanged glances and the way they spoke to each other was so revealing. We found that Lucasz was in the Signals Division and had a degree in Electrical Engineering. He was involved in a big new development for tracking and communication in the rather mountainous country using high powered computing and satellites which was causing ripples in the government and the press because of the cost.
"There is still a resentment with some people about taxes and spending money now it is more open as they don't realise there was much going on without any information coming out under the Communists," said Andrei. "They forget that although they all had jobs and some money they didn't have the freedom to travel, even to talk openly, and certainly they only knew what the government of the time wanted them to know. There are grumbles still even in the Army, usually from those who want more control but from the opposite point of view."
"Andrei is right," Lucasz said hesitantly, "We have a new King and the government tries... ...I think I say, ...to make everyone equal but responsible."
"Yes," said Andrei, "We try to be friendly to each other but there are almost different tribes." He smiled. "My family is Germanic. Lucasz's is Slav." He wrinkled his nose. "We are friendly...," Both hands were raised palms out. "..Why not everyone else!"
It was a very happy evening. I could see that Tris warmed to the pair. But, at no time was our adventure with the missing pencil-case or the visit of the two from Security mentioned. They left just after ten as Andrei said he had to be on duty at the Legation at seven in the morning as he was driving Mr Marriott to Strelsfurt in the Ober Husbrau for an informal meeting with Members of Parliament for that region.
After they went Ivo said the visit there was all part of the 'getting to know you' campaign which went on in all the old Eastern European and Communist states. "Most of them really admire the British way of life and even the ex-commies are being very friendly."
It wasn't long after that, seeing that 'Tory was looking rather tired, we said we would go. We insisted we would find our own way back. A brisk walk would do us good. A brisk walk would get us back to the hotel and bed sooner! Ivo said he would meet us at the entrance to the Maths Faculty at quarter to eleven as I had a meeting with Faculty members and Professor Rector zum Adamszberh, as he was now that the appointment had been ratified by the University Senate, at eleven o'clock.
We got back quite easily. I'd noted the turns and it wasn't until we were in a main street did we meet anyone. Yes, people were friendly, we soon learned to nod our head in response to cheery greetings. The front door of the hotel was still open and there was a lad of about seventeen reading a comic book behind the reception desk. We showed him our keys and he smiled, a dimpled smile, and said "Goodnight sirs," in clear English.
I shoved Tris up the stairs and we giggled when I told him "Bellboys are out of bounds!"
We more or less emulated the previous occupants of the rooms but whatever happened we did together and for each other and slept the sleep of the most contented.
Wednesday
We were up dressed and ready for breakfast at eight. The little cafe was quite busy and the waitress brought us a basket of four croissants and a pot of excellent coffee. There was also some bread and a slice of ham and a slice of cheese each. Sufficient to stave off any hunger pangs. It was also only two and a half euros each as we had shared the coffee. Why the reduction I did not know. Again, the friendly waitress wanted to practise her English.
As I didn't know when I would be 'performing' - the term Tris used - I put my notes in my shoulder bag and did so feeling a bit apprehensive. Tris gave me a comforting kiss before we went down the stairs to have a wander around before meeting Ivo. Even at that time in the morning it was pleasantly warm. I noted most of the younger men around wore below the knee shorts or light chino slacks. That was, if they were students, I thought. There were plenty still hurrying off to offices or other jobs I supposed and they were more conventionally dressed, suits and ties, just like the Londoners I had never envied. We found a park and looked at the fountains and were just companionably happy. Tris said he would keep an eye on me all day today but he wanted to have a look at a couple of museums and an art gallery he'd noted in the guidebook so I would be on my own spouting whatever, whenever. I said he was his own master except when I was in charge! We both knew that was a good relationship!
The three of us were met just inside the door by the Rector himself. The likeness between him and his son was unmistakable even though he had a small grey-flecked beard. We had a really warm welcome and were ushered into his office where coffee was immediately on hand. He spoke English haltingly but very correctly. He said we were so welcome and thanked Tris especially for getting his son into such good hands.
"I have read some of Professor Tanner's work," he said to me, "There are many aspects of Group Theory which he has worked on and his papers on Logic are very instructive. You are very lucky to have him as your teacher. He has sent me copies of your papers and they show great promise. You will talk about them, I hope?"
I said I would and was told I had three sessions to begin with but students might ask to discuss things further. There were open higher degree examinations today and tomorrow morning for four doctoral candidates but the Master's students would just be reporting on their work and I had been slotted in at four o'clock today with them for my first go. I was quite free to attend any session. Ouch! I found out that for a doctorate you had to publicly defend your thesis which, apparently, was quite common in some European countries. I asked about translation and he smiled and said a member of the English Faculty would be present as there were two Master's students who were English. He laughed, "I am wrong. One of them is Scottish as he keeps reminding us." I said I just hoped it was friendly rivalry, but as someone had once told me 'Hadrian had the best idea, he built the Wall!'. "I must remember that," he said.
At half past eleven he took us to a large lecture hall where there was a sprinkling of seated watchers and listeners. In a row at the front facing the podium were two men and a woman with desks in front them and volumes and papers were in neat piles on them, I assumed these were the examiners. A very tall young man was standing in front of a blackboard covered in equations and he had an overhead projector on which he was writing. He was talking quite slowly as another equation appeared and he went through a proof. I recognised the drift of the proof as being an extension of theory in functional analysis. He was using a very recent idea which James had touched on when we'd explored something which one of his own doctoral students was taking as a basis for his own thesis. I thought at the time I would need quite a bit of time to absorb the material but, as usual, it was odd how one almost subconsciously knew how things worked. His exposition was on Sobolev Space Theory and I was fascinated as he carefully expounded on his own ideas. I got out a pad and jotted down some of the working through. Yes, if you then... A thought had struck me. Later. Tris sitting next to me just grinned at the hieroglyphics!
The candidate was asked to stop at twelve and I saw the three nodding at each other. The woman got up and went to the platform and shook the young man's hand. There were smiles all round. He'd obviously passed their scrutiny. He had his doctorate. He was immediately dragged off by a group of friends.
The Professor took me up to the podium as the morning session was now over and I was introduced to the examiners. Two from the Rodolfer University and one from another institution. The lady was very much like Miss Anstruther-Lamb. A formidable exterior but a friendly nature I thought. The two men were very interested in where I had come from. One laughed and said in heavily accented English "You have a great tradition to follow. I was in Cambridge in 1994 and heard about the solving of Fermat's Last Theorem by Andrew Wiles." Yes, I said I had read the book about the Theorem but had never tried working through the gargantuan proof. He laughed. "Nor me!" We were then invited to lunch in the equivalent of their Hall. Good, a substantial lunch of lamb cutlets. In another lecture hall we were introduced to some of the students taking part in the Master's presentations over the next three days. One was the Scottish lad. Red-haired and oh-so macho. He was going back to Edinburgh to do a doctorate now he informed us, almost wrinkling his nose as if Cambridge was a provincial backwater. "Jist a few new ideas on Hamiltonians," he said almost dismissively when I asked him what he had been working on. OK, OK, be like that. I thought of Logan and the other Scots around College who were without exception most friendly.
I asked Tris if he was bored, and, if he was, just to go on walkabout and explore. He grinned and said he hadn't a clue about what I or the others would talk about but he would stay and probably fall asleep and snore. He didn't and we both watched mesmerised as the first student, a black-haired dynamo, theatrically, with much waving of hands and immaculately produced transparencies on the overhead projector, dealt with some interesting sidelights on Graph Theory. Follow him, I thought. The second was a girl who was an absolute whizz at Logic. I only wished I understood her exposition in Rothenian but scribbled down the neatly written up symbols and put queries against the bits where I wasn't sure about the notation. Then, all too soon, it was my turn. I felt surprisingly calm as Tris squeezed my arm in support as I stood and made my way to the platform. A man followed me. My interpreter.
I started by introducing myself as on exchange having just finished my own first degree but was staying on at Cambridge for further work. I then introduced my first topic, that of the paper sent to the Annals where I had noted the link between two particular aspects of Group Theory. It seemed to go well. I went through the proof and the thoughts I'd had on it since and noted a good few nods and smiles of recognition. My hour passed quickly. At the end the Rector came forward and thanked me and I got a round of applause which I realised wasn't just perfunctory.
I went over to my interpreter and thanked him. He looked as if he was in his early forties and was dressed quite formally in a black suit and dark tie and wore very trendy designer specs. He smiled. "I had better introduce myself. I'm not from the English Faculty. Medieval History." I twigged.
"Father Artur?"
He laughed. "The very same. Congratulations. I don't really know what you were talking about. I just translated the bits in between but you have made a very good impression." He bowed his head towards the Rector who was surrounded by staff and students. "Usually the students go as soon as possible. I think you might have a few invites. But first, would you join me for tea?"
We went over to the Rector's group and several of the young people shook my hand. Tris was in conversation with the red-haired Scot who seemed a bit more friendly and the young lady logician said she would be coming to St Mark's on exchange next term. "I will be with Dr Lamb, is he nice?"
I explained that Dr Lamb was a lady and a very nice lady and I wrote down her complete name and said we would meet as I was using a room under hers on Stair E to meet students I would be supervising. I explained about the layout of the College but she did seem rather bemused. I said I would contact a couple of the young ladies in our Chapel Choir and get them to meet her as soon as she arrived.
I collected Tris and introduced him to Father Artur who took us out to another small cafe where we had slices of sticky honey cake and a herb tea. As we were sitting apart from other happy eaters he said immediately that Mr Marriott had told him about the removal of the pencil- case. "He had to as the whole thing could have been very difficult if they had stolen what you had. With your permission I would like to see the box. Would tomorrow morning at ten be convenient. Mr Marriott has said he would be available."
I said it would be most convenient and he said he would make arrangements and collect us at half past nine at the hotel. He obviously knew where we were staying.
"I also know you want to see our wonderful organ. Our organist, Dr Valentin, would be very pleased for you to see it and play on Friday morning. He suggests nine o'clock as there is a Funeral Mass at ten thirty. Sadly, one of the canons died suddenly and it will be a very grand if sad occasion." He opened the brief case he had been carrying. "Here is the booklet about the cathedral and Dr Valentin has sent the details of the organ. Here is a letter from him, too." I passed the booklet and pamphlet to Tris who had been in charge of my shoulder bag. I scanned the letter which was in English and invited me to 'inspect' the organ. I handed that to Tris as well. Father Artur hadn't finished. "There is the Ring as well. You must see that, too. Your friend Mr Fane-Stuart is coming later in July with two people from your museum in Cambridge with the other Ring so the two can be shown together for the next year. It is being arranged as a diplomatic flight as it had to be agreed by your College and your Archbishop." He smiled. "It is a good thing the box was known to be only in the safe keeping of your country so you were able to bring it. I am so looking forward to seeing it and His Eminence is sorry he and you will have to wait for the presentation. I think he would like to show you the Ring then."
I thought I would ask. "Does anyone know where the Wildenstejn house is?"
It was almost as if he expected me to ask that question. There was no hesitation. "At the moment, no. The problem is so much was destroyed during the War and even the Cathedral library was plundered in 1941 and many books and documents were burnt. There was more in 1948 after the Communists took over. Houses belonging to the 'bourgeoisie' as they were called were confiscated if they were not already in other use. I have looked but the records are missing at the moment." He smiled. "Just like your Michaelhouse there are still archives not destroyed and I hope I may come across something quite soon."
I showed him the photos of the Baron and Baroness in front of the house. He nodded. "I think we can explore the records at the Palace." He pointed at the blown-up photo. "He has the order of Henry the Lion, First-Class. If their records are still there we will find his name and where he lived."
I gave him the photos as I had made three copies, just in case. There were also .jpg files on Tris's lap tap as well.
I then took out the two keys on the key-ring. He examined them very closely.
"They are Rothenian with no doubt. 'Fidentia' is one of the words associated with the order of... I have to think of the word.... ...chivalry, that's right, of Henry the Lion. The two feathers are also very symbolic. I suppose the small key might open the box."
I said we had thought that too, but the box remained unopened. He smiled. "I think His Eminence has plans."
We thanked him for tea and we parted at the door. He strode off in the opposite direction.
"Father Artur is a canny man," said Tris as we walked the other way back to the hotel. "But I think he knows a bit more he's not divulging yet."
I thought so, too. He had been primed on Michaelhouse as we hadn't mentioned it and there was a hint we might be invited to the Palace as well. Michaelhouse! I'd better report back to James. No reply except an answer-machine. I left a short message saying my first session had gone OK and I would phone again..
We had decided once we'd dumped my stuff we would change into something more casual and see what snacks the cafe might supply and then wander around. Ignasz was behind the reception desk as we went into the hotel. Oh Lord Almighty, what else? Two figures were there, too, signing in with Ignasz passing over keys, maps, brochures and pamphlets. Both were attired in bright orange tee-shirts. Two of 'Yoggers Stags'. By their feet there were suitcases but no sign of Duty-Free booze! As they turned from finishing with Ignasz I could see they were not inebriated, there was no all-pervading stink of alcohol and they both looked most clean and healthy, 'well-fit' as the current patois had it. Oh Lord! But had they been ejected from the Miramar? We greeted Ignasz and he handed over an envelope and said Mr Carr had brought it earlier. So Ivo was known by name!
The two lads looked at us. "You're English?" One asked in the rising inflections of Estuary English. Stop it, Mark! Don't prejudge I told myself. I didn't answer as Tris was there before me.
"Yes, do you need some help?" he said most pleasantly.
The lad nodded. "We've just arrived and the other hotel is full so we've been sent here. Is it OK?"
I looked at Ignacz who was listening intently. I smiled and winked.
"Perfect," said Tris, "Very comfortable. Just right."
The lad looked relieved. "Trust Yogger to make a balls-up, though!"
The other one laughed and gave his mate a dig in the ribs. "Better introduce ourselves, I'm Brett and this one's Yogger's cousin, Fraser, better known as Fido."
We shook hands, very sturdy and quite rough hands and said 'Tris' and 'Mark'.
The one who said his name was Brett turned to Ignasz. "Thanks, we'll take our own bags up. Room 'two o two' you said?"
Ignasz smiled and nodded but I just wondered. Next door to us and part of a drunken group. Oh Gawd!
Brett turned to Tris. "We're starving after all that. Anywhere around here for grub? Nothing fancy."
Tris said we'd found a small cafe and were going there, would they care to join us? OK, Tris, I'm a curious cat but... They said 'Brilliant'. Tris said 'fifteen minutes' and our evening together was ruined. I was grumpy. Sod being friendly. I sulked.
"Get that look off your face," Tris said as he closed the bedroom door behind us. "A teenage pout doesn't suit you." As I turned to make some cutting remark I hadn't quite formulated he grabbed me, upended me on the nearest bed, kissed me until I was breathless, yanked my best slacks and pants down and buried my ever ready cock in his warm, moist mouth. I let out a strangled moan two minutes later as I came copiously and he sucked and licked me dry and then kissed me again, the familiar taste of my spunk on his lips. "You have ten minutes in which to get washed, dressed and accompany me and the two lads for supper. I won't need a starter you've just supplied that. We'll finish this later!"
I put my arms up and hugged him. "Tris, I wouldn't know what to do without you. I mustn't make snap judgements about others, must I? I'm sorry."
Tris was very serious. "You're little problem is you've really hit the jackpot and you mustn't let it go to your head. You're good and you know it. But there's a little word. Humility. I'll only mention it once as I had to make a decision about myself in the same way. At Law School there have been quite a few who struggled and I thought I was better. I learned very quickly I wasn't when one young lady ran rings round me when we had to present a case in our mock court. She'd got a low mark on an essay and had a horrendous accent and I'd put her down as a no hoper. But, if I was defending someone in court I wouldn't want her on the other side. In fact, we got quite friendly after that. She was from an estate in South London, a disabled mother, two younger brothers and she'd struggled to get a law degree at a local uni. But she had guts and courage and she's going to work with a well-known law firm in the City. They've recognised her potential!"
I was in tears. He gently wiped my eyes with a hankie, then kissed them. We hugged and I felt better. I knew I had to try. We parted. He smiled down at me.
"Six minutes to wash, change and look even more handsome than you are!"
My Tris.
Yes, six minutes was all that was needed for a quick splash of water, a quick squirt of deodorant, a change into cargoes, sandals and a Matteoli top, another quick kiss and hug and two creatures were ready. I just had to see what was in the envelope I'd been given. I might have guessed it was a note from Ivo. Full of interest, though, and scrawled on headed legation notepaper with Ivo being Ivo.
'Delivered by own fair hand:
Hi Brainbox and Legal-eagle,
Just to say Charlie's boss had a slight
lapse of memory due to ill-considered indulgence at the Old
Lags and Hags Ball so there is a small remittance awaiting
you on your visit on the morrow. Don't be late or rent of
safe space might be deducted.
Love
Her Majesty's Commercial Attache Case
XXX
p.s. Swallow this after reading.
p.p.s. And before you swallow anything else.'
The last too bad as far as Tris was concerned, but what had the Bursar forgotten? Thinking about it, money had not been mentioned. I knew my stay at the hotel was being paid for by the Rodolfer but I suppose I'd assumed we'd have meal tickets and so on given us. A 'small remittance' would be welcome, whatever. Tris just shrugged and said he'd got euros and his credit card. The Al-Hamed monthly cheque had been banked and little used.
We went down to the lobby where Tris chatted to Tomas, the young lad we'd seen the night before while we waited. He was at the Gymno he said. I assumed this was a Gymnasium, the high school like they have in Germany. He wanted to visit England and see Chelsea play. Perhaps he should join up with the Adjutant! He was going to study Mechanical Engineering at the Technical University and needed English as so many of the books were in English. He held up the comic book he was reading. 'Batman and Robin...' I couldn't see the rest of the title. I resisted a comment. I was trying.
Brett and Fraser, alias Fido, came down the stairs. They were arrayed like us but with rather fetching matching green tops. There was a circular logo over the left breast, 'Chelworth Garden Centre'. Ah, that explained the rough paws.
Brett saw me eyeing the logo. He laughed. "A bit more discreet than the other and we're not illiterate. The shop that lot came from got it wrong and they weren't ready until last Saturday afternoon so it was too late to have new ones printed!"
Tris led the way with Fraser and we walked in pairs to the cafe. Yes, they did a set 'dish of the day' as well as snacks. All very reasonably priced, too. The cafe was busy which I always took to be a good sign. It was. The two lads had loaded plates - a goulash like the one we'd had the night before - and we had a salad with smoked fish. The local beer was cheap so a half litre each soon went down.
We exchanged life histories. Both were intrigued at meeting up with Cambridge graduates. They both knew Cambridge and had read of the St Mark's exhibition but hadn't seen it. We didn't say about our involvement nor what was on show. They, as I had guessed, were from Essex. They all worked at the garden centre in various roles. Yogger's father and uncle owned it. Fraser was the son of the second owner. We asked about Yogger. They laughed.
"Don't take what you see," Fraser said. "Yogger's a great bloke under all that. He's marrying Janie Donovan the end of next week so he decided to have the stag do the week before. Really she insisted!"
Tris mentioned the sight at the airport and on the plane.
"That's all part of the plan," Brett took over. "Yogger said if they all got pissed the first couple of days they'd get fed up and stop. Three of them were in bed at that other hotel when we got there this afternoon and saying they'd never drink another drop. The others were all on black coffee and two had spewed their guts up all night. Yogger's the only one who didn't get pissed. He's used to it as his Dad's always on the sauce."
I was curious. "Why 'Yogger'?"
Brett laughed, "And that's why he's 'Fido'!" He pointed at Fraser.
"Better explain," said Fraser. "Our surname is Doggett. So Kevin, that's Yogger, got called 'Yoghurt' at school and I was 'Doggy' and I'm 'Fido' now."
It turned out that Yogger ran the landscaping side of the business and most of the other lads were on his team. He'd done a horticultural course and was well up on designing, planning and planting. Both Brett and Fraser had also been to college and had studied horticulture, too.
"That's how we met," Fraser said and there was a slight reddening of his sun-tanned cheeks.
Tris was quicker on the ball than I was. My gaydar had twitched but... "We're together," he said simply.
Fraser smiled. "Thought so." He turned to Brett. "Told you so." Brett grinned, quite relaxed at being outed to strangers. "You were discussed while we were changing. I said 'yes', he wasn't so sure. Thanks for telling us. The rest of our lot are OK with us. Most seem to have lesbian sisters so we tell them!"
"Don't take the mick!" Brett said, "It's only Mac's sister and she's gorgeous, you know what I mean!"
"So why did you arrive later than the rest?" I asked.
The tale was simple. The pair had been to Germany pricing up a faddy plant called gingko. I'd read about it. There was some extract which stopped you losing your marbles or your libido, or something equally alarming if it went, and it was the latest thing to take, millions of years old, thought to be lost in the last Ice Age, found in China and grown a lot in Weimar of all places where they'd been. The plants were rather pricey so Brett said, so the bright idea was to see if there were cheaper ones available here as Fraser's Dad had found an address on the Internet. Yo, ho, ho, join up with Yogger for a cheap stay and search.
As food had been consumed and another, small this time, beer had been downed Fraser said they would have a recce along to the Wejg. That name again. Ivo had mentioned it and laughed. Brett said the Rough Guide recommended it for the clubs, pubs and restaurants. Fraser said the Gay Guide to Europe rated it as the tops.
"I don't know if the rest are venturing out. Probably not until their innards have settled but what about a stroll down there and just a nose around." He didn't realise it but he had two willing, slightly adventurous bunnies. Tris had found a club called Liberation on the Net and wondered?
"Just a look-see," said Brett. "We went to Amsterdam last year with that lot. They got ripped off proper in some lap-dancing club and we had to bail them out for the rest of the week."
"Not you?" Tris asked.
Brett grinned. "No, we went to quite a different club. Not quiet but we had a very good time. Some of the lads were very friendly but they were mostly stoned."
Fraser chuckled. "If we had to source that we'd be laughing. Every bloody plant stall there had seeds and there were 'starter kit' tins for British kids on school visits to stash in their luggage."
"We did buy a couple of lollipops at the flea market but we were high enough being together for that to have any effect," said Brett.
I said we'd heard Yogger at the taxi-rank saying he didn't want to get 'ripped off'.
Fraser laughed. "He's bloody paranoid about it now. Thinks every foreigner's after his dosh. I think he's got his wallet strapped to his dick as that's not being used this week! Janie's laid down the law!"
"Is it a big wallet?" Tris asked without a hint of a smile.
There was no answer as the pair just hooted with laughter. We never found out, big or small, as the pair just giggled as we paid our bills and sauntered off into town.
There were numerous people about just walking up and down. "Just like Barcelona," said Brett, "An evening stroll to get out of all the flats they live in." All the cafes had pavement tables and they were very busy. It was a perfect evening, warm, a little breeze and other than the noise of traffic just happy chatter. We found the Gildensfahrbsweg which a helpful passerby told us was known as the 'Wejg'. We saw the club named Liberation but didn't venture in as the bouncers seemed a menacing lot and the clientele looked rather odd even for a gay club. In the end we found four seats just vacated in front of a cafe and ordered coffee. While we were scanning the passersby who seemed dressed in all sorts of fashion Fraser gave a yelp. "Don't look now and don't let them see us!"
A quick peep in the direction he was looking showed just three of the ranks of 'Yoggers Stags'. Yogger and two others. We saw them disappear into a bar and our pair relaxed. "We're not drinkers," Brett said, "Bit stay-at-homers".
Fraser laughed. "He did say homers!"
I felt as if I needed home. I was knackered. I suppose the adrenaline rush of having to perform had died down. I looked at Tris. He nodded. "Time for bed, I think." The other two did not disagree so we strolled back.
The walk must have woken me up as I gave Tris a more sedate rerun of my earlier experience. I couldn't have been too tired as I then delivered my second load of the day. We had just settled in our separate beds when we heard unmistakable sounds of very vigorous activity from the room next door. "Ouch," said Tris in a stage whisper, "Much more of that and I'll be feeling randy!"
"I've just changed my name," I whispered back, but we were both asleep in moments.
To be continued: