Mystery and Mayhem and St Marks

Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's

A Sequel

by

Joel

Seq 16:

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: Rodolfer U. Frau Schreiber His wife Yniold Schreiber Their son: 17 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 Ignasz Zendener The hotel manager in Strelzen Alistair Ross Scottish student at the Rodolfer U.

Thursday

I woke seemingly quite early then realised Rothenian time was European time and an hour on from England. It was just on seven by my little alarm clock. Tris was in his bed and snoring quietly. There was silence from the next room - the thin walls had given us an easily imagined scenario of pleasurable coupling the previous night - Fraser and Brett were now sleeping soundly and soundless.

I crept out and had a shower. The shower head was firmly bolted to the wall but the temperature was just right as I soaped and lathered and had the inevitable morning response. That would have to keep. As it was quite warm I slipped on just a pair of boxers and went to the study and looked over my notes for my second presentation. No, I wouldn't do the one based on my tooth, that could be Friday's. I would do one James had chosen from my own notes. I had filched two sheets of transparent film yesterday so I carefully wrote out the first part of the initial problem and the first couple of lines of possible deductions which followed. Writing up the rest would take up time and I could expound on it. The second piece I would use to set out Mike Maples' query and I had ideas how to make that presentation a little bit different but I would have to discuss that with Tris.

A stealthy footstep brought me back to earth as that was accompanied by the most delicate flutterings of a tongue between my shoulder blades. My boxers tented even more as the tongue ran down my spine and back again. I let out the breath I had been holding in a whoosh.

"Gotcha, you sexy monster," came a whisper in my ear as a hand delved below my waistband and fixed on my erection. The tongue then gyrated in my ear. Too much for this sexy monster to resist. In fact, two sexy monsters rushed to the bedroom and a pair of tongues lapped and licked until two early morning pre-breakfasts were consumed.

"I've already had a shower," I complained, not at all bitterly.

"If I hadn't captured that purple-headed monster of yours I would have had quite a different shower!" said Tris, and as he hugged me we both giggled. Both knew why. As just pubescent altos in the St Barnabas choir we had been instructed, by a slightly older middle- pubescent tenor, that instead of the lines in 'All things bright and beautiful' which were given as 'The purple-headed mountain, the river running by' we should sing 'The purple-headed monster that's peeping from your fly', not too loud to disturb the others, but to remind Tris especially of the joys of Scout camp.

We decided we'd better get moving as the protein intake might not be sufficient for us until lunch-time. I had a second, less leisurely, shower and was smartly attired well before Tris. I'd sniffed the shirt I'd worn the day before and decided I'd better wear a clean one. I wondered if there was a laundrette nearby. Must be something as even students needed clean shirts occasionally. Anyway, we strolled round to the caf‚ a bit later than yesterday and found our pair of plantsmen already ensconced with plates of ham, cheese and large crusty rolls.

We were greeted cheerily and had the 'continental'. The same waitress even poured our first cup of coffee and, I noticed, placed a steadying hand on Tris's shoulder.

This had been observed by the pair as well. "Pity we're not interested and we're not footballers," whispered Fraser nudging me, "We could have sold a five in a bed story to the Sundays. She did the same to me and I swear she squeezed as well."

As, from the sounds emanating from their bedroom last night, he and Brett were seasoned shaggers the young lady wouldn't have been disappointed. Tris whispered back, "Bet she does it to all."

True. Just keeping an eye on her progress round the tables, I noted that with the younger men, there was a definite touchy-feely act going on. I decided it was an act. "She's just stroking their egos," I said, as I saw Fraser also glancing at her actions.

"The way some of them are squirming they're wishing she was stroking something else," he said.

"Good for business," said Brett, "I'd be here every morning for a bit of a touch-up." He took a bite of the tasty looking ham-packed roll. "In fact, I'd be here anyway." He looked at Fraser. "We could do with one of these in the village, especially if Jimmy Durrant was the waiter."

"Keep off him," growled Fraser, "He touches you and your arse is grass."

Brett gave a quiet laugh. "He's jealous. Jimmy's been after me since his balls began to drop. I always get a bit extra when he serves me in his dad's corner shop."

"You're not getting any extra from that quarter I'm telling you. That boy's lethal. He's had more squaddies from Colchester Barracks porking him since he was sixteen than I've had hot dinners. The two of them even joined the Army Cadets until I made this one leave."

"Needn't have done that," said Tris very confidentially across the table to Fraser, "You should've just had Sergeant's stripes tattooed on your cock."

A rather startled Fraser stared at Tris, "Why?"

"You could have pulled rank instead!"

At least the pair had a sense of humour. Brett nearly choked on the roll and Fraser guffawed. The waitress came over beaming and deposited another pot of coffee. "For the very happy Englishmen. Sehr stattlich."

Brett smiled. "Vielen danke das Sie ein Engel sind."

She smiled sweetly and as she went off scattering goodwill to other tables Fraser nudged me. "Showing off his bloody A Level. Good job he doesn't want to show off anything else to her."

Our second breakfast over Tris said to the lads we had a busy day. Fraser said they would just see if Yogger and his lot had recovered, but they also intended going to the Botanic Gardens to suss out where exactly gingko plants might be found.

Tris said he would beetle back to the hotel after we'd been to the Legation as he wanted to change into something more comfortable and he would then explore the city while I wallowed in mathematics. As I had been rather hooked on the presentations yesterday I was quite happy. We agreed whatever we did individually he would come and collect me after my session, at five o'clock sharp, and we could plan for an evening meal then.

I said he should have a wander and look for a suitable restaurant, not too expensive but with a bit of class! He did a Toad sneer and said that as I would eat anything that crept or crawled the classification wasn't important. Ignasz was in his usual place and greeted us warmly as we entered the hotel to brush any crumbs off before walking to the North part of Wenzelgasse where the Legation was. "A special letter," he said handing me a parchment style envelope with the crest of the University on the back. It was an invitation to both of us to dinner on Friday evening at the Rector's house. The Rector apologised that Jerzy would not be there but his wife and daughter, Father Artur, Mr Marriott and his wife, and Drs Valentin and Schreiber and their wives would be present. A taxi would collect us at seven-thirtyfive. Eight o'clock and it was not formal.

That meant I would be meeting the cathedral organist again, plus Ivo's neighbour on the Music Faculty. I said to Tris that he shouldn't feel left out. He just laughed and said if the grub's good that would be interesting enough for him. And there would be plenty of conversation with a dozen round the table.

We idled a bit in the Bila Palacz Park almost opposite the hotel and then strolled along tree-lined streets to the Legation and were there in good time. One of the soldiers had been primed and marched us smartly to the imposing side entrance under the porte-cochere built when carriages and horses were the means of travel. A lady secretary took us through to Ivo's very tidy office hung with maps and charts.

"Good morning, young sirs," he said, rising from his chair behind the large polished oak desk. "Mr Marriott has just arrived and he said to bring you up to his office as soon as you got here. Ready?"

We followed him up the ornate carved wooden staircase. He patted the dark polished banister-rail. "This wasn't imported from B & Q last year I can tell you."

"Home Base I think," said Tris, "And your desk from IKEA I guess."

"Don't interrupt, serf, or you'll be set to polishing it," he said, "Prince Andrew, bless his cotton socks, is set to visit sometime and all the lowly fingermarks will have to be removed."

"You miss Adam don't you for the badinage," I said.

He turned and there was a tinge of sadness in his look as he shook his head. "I miss the old bugger more than you can say. It's odd being a twin."

"Sorry," I said, "But I know he misses you, too."

We reached the landing. He put a hand out and took mine. "We phone each other nearly every day but it's great you and Tris are here. A bit of the family in person!" He squeezed my hand. "OK, look lively, Her Majesty's representative awaits you."

He knocked on the door and there was an immediate "Come in".

Mr Marriott was standing by his desk with a pot of coffee and four good-sized mugs on a tray. He started to pour steaming coffee into the first one. "Can't stand those piddling small things they think are suitable for diplomatic discussions. Here you are Tristan, number one." He pointed at the milk and sugar as Tristan stepped forward and picked his mug up. Mr Marriott continued and poured the other three. "Cheers. Have a slurp and then I'll hand over the Brigadier's forgotten largesse for you. Must say I know him quite well. Played a round or two with him but not at his handicap." He laughed. "I mean his golf handicap, not after he's been to the nineteenth hole!"

No one commented but we all knew. His reputation went before him! Mr Marriott went over to his desk and picked up a fairly thick envelope. He held it up. "St Mark's thinks you should not suffer from lack of cash. There's half in krone and half in euros. If you travel out of town you'll need the krone and Dr Mays has told me about the hunt for herbs. I may be able to help and I hope my reward will be a taste of that liqueur." He held up a second envelope. "An introduction to the Keeper of the Botanic Gardens for next week. They know you are coming and I hear you have a contact anyway."

What was interesting was how so much was known. But of course, Tadeusz was a student who must work at the Botanic Garden here as part of his Botany studies. We thanked him and finished our coffee and he shook hands and said he hoped to see us again.

We trundled down to Ivo's office and while he watched I opened the envelope. There were two hundred and fifty euros in twenties and tens and the equivalent in krone. I had noted on a web site that there were about eleven krone to the pound. There were also three twenty euro notes held together with a paper clip and a note 'For any travel expenses'. "We'll have to eat carefully," I said, "And there's museums and other things to visit." Ivo held up an envelope he'd just opened.

"Two complimentary tickets here for the main Art Gallery. There's an exhibition opening on Saturday morning. You'd better have them." He snickered. "It's Mapplethorpe so there'll be plenty to interest you!" He opened a drawer and pulled out various bits of paper. "Here you are, sort through this lot. We get invited to all sorts of functions and openings and there's always snacks and I can't go to anything at the moment with 'Tory. You've had the invite from the Rector?" We nodded. "We were sorry but had to refuse, 'Tory's much too close to venture out. Anyway, I'll give you both a little badge, too, to wear when you go anywhere else so you won't be chucked out with the riff raff." He opened another drawer. "More here. Free entrance for a week to the Zoo and the Spa." He laughed. "You'll like that. No clothes!"

"The Zoo?" asked Tris, "Naked Ape I suppose?"

Ivo pointed at me. "Take that hairy bugger along and they'll keep him chained."

He then explained that the Spa had hot springs and clothes were not essential even in the grounds. He and 'Tory hadn't been there yet so he would be interested in any comments. I saw Tris perk up as he took the offered bunch of tokens. Well he might as well explore first, but...

I looked at my watch. I didn't have much time to get to the Maths Faculty to hear the final doctoral student of the morning if I didn't hurry. I said cheerio to the pair and went off on my own. I'd memorised the route exactly so got to the lecture hall just as the candidate was being introduced. From the material already on the board I guessed he was looking at aspects of linear analysis and the first statement was one I'd seen at a more or less concluding lecture at Cambridge. Not understanding Rothenian I missed some of the subtleties I guessed, but copied down the workings through. Ouch. If this was the standard I would have to reach in the future I had plenty of work to do. However, I was pleased I could grasp the general tenor of his thesis and the hour passed very quickly. Again, a successful candidate.

As I went through the door I met the Scottish lad. He was probably around twenty-three, a couple of years older than me and was not smiling. "Come to gloat, eh?" The greeting was curt and rough.

"Sorry," I said, "What do you mean?"

"I've just found an error in one of my fucking arguments and I've only got until two to get the bugger right!"

He was quite distraught. Could I help? "I don't know what you've been doing but I could have a look with you. A second eye might help."

"Second brain more like it. I'm desperate. Fucking hell, I never thought it'd come to this!"

I more or less dragged him into an empty lecture room. "Show me."

He'd calmed down a bit and pulled out a wad of paper from his bag. "The bastard's here. I can't ignore it as I use the result to help prove the main conclusion later."

At least his handwriting was very legible. And, he was like the lad who sat in front of us who used different colours for his various ideas. Oh hell. This was quite different from anything I was used to. But was it? When I'd worked with Fiona and Dina we often had hangups and it was usually one of us who would spot it was a matter of technique. James had pointed out to me on numerous occasions that most of the undergraduate work was getting to grips with techniques of solving problems. The extra was when new problems arose when thinking 'sideways' as he put it. The lad had set out the problem very clearly. He wanted to take about four steps to provide a new result and at one point had 'It follows that..'.

"It's here," he said pointed at those words and the next couple of lines of working. "There's a fucking flaw! I assumed it follows. I'm sure it does. But I need a subsidiary proof in here to back it up."

I had never come across that problem but I knew exactly what he meant. "Why not go back and see whether you could use a previous result. Or find a parallel argument." I had spotted he was using the Hamilton-Jacobi equation but the arguments he was using must be taking the dynamics much further.

"I know the bugger's right...." he muttered as he leafed back. "I've proved all the stages down to that OK. I checked those with Professor Minkowicz yesterday. He said I should go and see where the next step got me and it's got me in a fucking tangle. I should have stuck with what I'd already got."

He was mouthing more or less incomprehensible strings of symbols and such like. Then went back and looked at half a page of steps to a result.

"Fuck me," he breathed, "I think I've got it. It must have been in my head all the time." He jabbed a blunt, nail-bitten finger at the line, underlined in blue. "I can use this." He turned to me. The smile was of genuine pleasure and friendliness. "You've saved my fucking life. If I'd made a ball's up of this presentation I wouldn't be accepted at Edinburgh for next year."

"Well, sit down and set the argument out. See if it does follow."

He grinned and gave me a mock salute. "Will do."

I left him to it. I didn't even know his name but if he was presenting this afternoon I'd better go to his session. I made my way to the Students' Dining Room and took a tray and chose a rather succulent looking sausage dish. The young lady behind the cash desk waved me away as I tried to present her with a five euro note. "No," she said, in English, "You do not have to pay." She waved a dismissive finger. Oh. Was I known? I wandered over to a table with four other young people on it. Two male, two female. "Sit here, please," one of the girls said, "I heard you speak yesterday, very interesting."

"Thank you," I said and sat.

"You spoke again today?" the young man next to her asked.

The young lady nudged him. "Speak."

He smiled and shook his head. "I am sorry. You speak again today?" He articulated the words carefully.

"Yes," I said. "And I am sorry I cannot speak Rothenian."

"No problem," the other young man said, "We all wish to speak English. I wish to visit London."

Over a rather slow lunch I found they were all Maths students who were presenting results or were in the middle of writing up their dissertations and also gave several impromptu English lessons. The other girl wanted to know when to use 'wish' or 'want'. It's only when confronted with such questions you realise you say so much without thinking. I had to think!

We had just about finished eating when the Scots lad came over to the table with his tray of food. "Hello Alistair," the first girl said carefully, "You look happy."

Alistair said something in Rothenian. The girl held up a finger. "You speak in English," she commanded.

He said he was happy because I had helped him with a possible false conclusion in his presentation. I found his name was Alistair Ross. He came from Edinburgh where he'd done his first degree and his father was a civil engineer who had been in Rothenia on contract the year before. He had visited Strelzen one vacation and had signed up for a Master's as he liked the sound of the course. Yes, he knew Logan Henderson as he had been to the same school but a couple of years apart and he lived in the same area. Actually he seemed to thaw a lot and I changed my view of him from that first impression.

His was the second presentation of the afternoon, before mine which was to be the third. He spoke in a mixture of Rothenian and English and did say, in clear English, he had been rescued from possible error by me. I think the group listening warmed to him because of that little vote of thanks. I had been aware at the lunch table there was a certain coolness towards him though the Rothenians had been polite in speaking to him.

I thought my session went well. Father Artur had made an unobtrusive entrance and was standing at the end of the podium as I went to the desk. I said a few words about my so-called help for Alistair and wished him well for his further studies at Edinburgh. I launched into my exposition and was surprised when I glanced at the clock at the back of room and found I had just four minutes to go. I managed to gabble through to a conclusion and got another round of applause. What was gratifying was there were at least a dozen more listeners than the day before.

I thanked Father Artur again and he just look enigmatic and said he was glad he only dealt with the exploits of medieval tyrants rather than having to think about such odd squiggles I was using. 'Squiggles'? His English was certainly good. He said he would meet me at the Cathedral in the morning at nine o'clock and there would be a taxi to collect us at half-past eight. "Come to the side entrance," I was instructed. He declined my offer of tea as he said he had to hurry back to the cathedral to check the arrangements for the funeral in the morning. "It will be a three-hour Requiem Mass," he said with a wry smile, "When they list all the things I have to do I think mine will have to be four hours! More likely I'll just be tipped into the crypt!"

I went to the front entrance after shaking hands with several well-wishers and what should I find but a laughing Tris in conversation with a most handsome young lad who seemed to be looking at Tris with adoring eyes. Like Tris the lad was dressed in a tight-fitting tee-shirt and baggy cargoes. He was dark haired, tanned and had those clear features which many late adolescents have before the ravages of time coarsen their looks. Needless to say, this had happened to neither Tris or myself, though I say it myself! But! What was Tris doing? Had he picked up some wayward youth, intending, I hoped, to share him with me? He spotted me and waved. He pointed me out to the lad and the pair stood up from the low wall they had been sitting on and walked briskly over to me.

"Let me introduce Yniold," Tris said looking most pleased. 'Yniold'? I had to think. That name sounded familiar. 'Pelleas and Melisande'. The young son who spies through the window. The lad put a hand out and I shook it. He didn't speak but looked rather shyly at me. The laughing youth was gone. Was he bashful having played games with my Tris?

Tris was laughing. Probably sensing the mixed emotions which I had difficulty in suppressing. "Let me explain. First, though, we're in need of tea, aren't we Yniold?" The lad smiled and nodded. Seduction in a tea-room. Blast! I knew the connotations of 'tea-room' in the American context! They led the way past the main University building to an open-air caf‚. Tris indicated a vacant table and signalled a waiter. He looked at Yniold and winked. Yniold said something in rapid Rothenian to the waiter who wrote on his pad and hurried off. I was still none the wiser. "First things first," he said, "Did your session go OK?" I said it did. "Secondly, Yniold has seen you before." I must have looked puzzled and Tris tapped the lad on his arm. "Spying like his namesake but from behind his mother's curtains, eh?" The boy smiled. "Yniold lives below Ivo and 'Tory. Let me introduce Yniold Schreiber." Oh, the Music Faculty man. No wonder the name.

"Pelleas and Melisande," I said. Another of Tris's father's obsessions so both of us had had crash courses on the opera. We supposed Auntie Dil had been adamant that Shelley should be Shelley and not Melisande! The rude boy stuck a pink tongue out a little way between pursed ruby-red lips and wrinkled his nose. "Sorry, but he's told you his name, I suppose?" I pointed at Tristan.

"He has, and I know why," he said very composedly, "I have my name because my father conducted that other opera here when I was born." He did smile then.

I said my grandfather had also conducted operas here but before the War. He was immediately transfixed. "You will meet my father tonight. Please tell him. My sister Isolde plays the cello in the orchestra at the Opera. I am learning, too." Oh dear! I looked at Tristan. He smiled wanly. No doubt some little joke would be made at his, or their, expense.

In fact, if Dr Schreiber had contacts at the Opera this would be an opening as we had brought two of Grandfather's scores, Puccini's La Boheme and Verdi's Othello to give to the Opera House. But I was still curious.

"Where did you meet each other?" I asked.

Tris replied with an absolutely straight face. "In the nude at the Spa."

Yniold giggled.

"Tell me," I said.

"Quite above board," Tris said but waited as the waiter brought a tray with tea-pot, cups, milk, sugar and an assortment of delectable looking pastries. A further wait as Tris played 'Mum' and poured the tea and we selected a pastry each. "I went to the Natural History Museum this morning then had a snack at the buffet there for lunch. It was hot so I went to the Spa and used my ticket. I had a swim then joined the sun-worshippers." He winked at me. "No clothes and I was lying there all quiet and peaceful when I was accosted." He smiled at Yniold who was following the narration very carefully. Another nose wrinkle. "He just said he'd seen me before and had recognised me."

"Without clothes on?" I asked looking at Yniold. He giggled again.

"No," he said. "Mrs Carr said Mr Carr's cousin and his friend were coming for dinner." The nose wrinkle again. "So I watched. So I saw him and you." He looked at me. "You look like Mr Carr..," He waved a finger. "...but no beard.." A sotto voce 'Thank goodness' from Tris. "And he has hair like mein freund,,,," He stopped, realising he had lapsed into German. "...My friend Pyotor. I see him lying and I see his hair. I recognise."

"And did you have no clothes?" I asked Yniold.

He blushed a little and nodded. "My father does not like me to go to the Spa. He says I am too young and there are men who...." He stopped.

"...And boys who speak to men?" I said and smiled at him. The blush was evident then.

"I was happy when I saw him as there was a man who was looking at all on their towels. He was near. I told Tristan and he lifted up and the man went. If I am there with my friend Pyotor they do not come near. He is bigger, I mean, taller than me. He plays basketball at the Gymno."

Of course, this led to Tris explaining he had played basketball at school and College. This elicited an appraising look and "You are tall like Pyotor. He is very handsome as well as you." Tris gave him a most radiant smile. I thought, OK, sweetheart, little Yniold is definitely out of bounds!

We lapsed into small talk then. Yes, he knew Tomas who was at the Gymno but in the Technik classes. He was in Klassica. He wanted to study languages at the Rodolfer but he had one more year to go. He would tell his father we had met and tell him about my grandfather. He then became a little shy. At last he said he would like to visit the Spa again with us as his friend Pyotor was away until Tuesday of next week with the basketball team. He scribbled down his mobile number - he used the German designation 'Handy' for the phone - and I said we would let him know and I wrote my number on half the paper and gave it to him. He was obviously smitten with Tris and he smiled coyly when we shook hands and said 'Auf Wiedersehen' as if we were quite fluent in German!

As we walked back to the hotel Tris was grinning. "He's a sweet lad, isn't he?" He nudged me. "And he's got the cutest little cock." He laughed. "At least it was little when he first spoke to me but he got very flustered when he got an erection. He couldn't get up and run away so I told him just to lie on his stomach." A snigger. "Had to think hard of sour lemons and cold showers to stop mine rising in sympathy!" Yes, young Yniold clothed as he was, seemed a very tasty dish. Nude, I could imagine he could be even tastier.

"If we do go, he'd better be off limits. I don't think Pyotor would be pleased we were playing away with his friend."

"Yep, I'm sure there's a very close friendship there."

When we got to the hotel Ignasz was not in a good mood. He was shaking his fist and Tomas was getting the brunt of some very vehement Rothenian. He stopped when he saw us.

"Good afternoon," he said, but rather curtly. "Is your television working?" he asked without further ado.

Tris said it was but we had only tried it and found all the programs were either in German or Rothenian.

"You have not complained? I have asked Tomas and he says 'No' and not the other ones."

Tris shook his head. "No. And I don't think the other English have complained." As the only sound from their room had been exuberantly sexual I agreed as there had been no covering sound from their television.

"There was this man who said there was a complaint from the English and he had televisions to sell," Ignasz explained. "I sent him away but he said bad words I couldn't understand and said my hotel would be in trouble." He calmed down a bit. "Tomas says I should tell my cousin who is in the police. Tomas says the words he used were from Albania. There are boys at the Gymno from that country and they cause trouble."

"Tell your cousin," advised Tris, "The televisions are probably stolen."

Ignasz nodded. "I will."

When we got up to our room I checked to see that Tris hadn't sunburnt one vital piece of his anatomy. Just in case, I anointed it, as it stiffened, with Foster's Saliva Balm on the tip of my tongue. He squirmed rather under that ministration but not from the effects of any sunburn and gave me a portion of Price-Williams Elixir of Life. My own Elixir was sprayed across those muscly pecs as he gripped me while in his state of ecstasy. We lay together and regained our normal breathing rate.

"You've got the cutest little cock," I whispered in his ear as his now-limp monster had reduced to its usual hanging dimensions. "How does it compare with your latest admirer's?"

A tongue made it's way into my ear. "Don't ask. Shan't tell. Wait."

Yes, we would meet up with Yniold.

But, I had work to do before setting out for dinner. I'd already decided my third and last talk would deal with the Mike Maples' problem, but the first presenter this afternoon had used a projector with the material on a laptop. I thought I could do the same and introduce the talk by saying about my recital and breaking a tooth. I knew Tris had the PowerPoint Program downloaded and also had photos of the College, the Chapel, the organ, me playing the organ and also shots of the exhibition in the cellars. I thought I might just give them a couple of those at the end of the lecture. Oh, dear, I hoped Father Artur wouldn't be offended with the sight of Her Majesty's Commercial Attache apparently feeling a boy's genitalia. Too bad. I'd noted the postcard was discreetly displayed on a cork-board in Ivo's office at the Legation.

Tris fired up the program and very quickly had a sequence for me. He decided that the shot of the left hand side of the big wall with the cavorting nudes, us, and Charles playing the tambourine should be included at the end of the introduction. Cleverclogs then used his digi camera for a shot of the Mike Maples' statement. He then downloaded that and said I was on my own after that. But, just in case I was too cackhanded to work the laptop properly he would be on hand to deal with that and would see my performance, too. OK, OK, I said and made careful notes of the sequence.

There was no sign of the two lads when we were ready to find a reasonably-priced restaurant about eight o'clock. But Tris was a bit agitated, I thought, until we were sitting and studying the menu in the one we found.

He looked over at me as I was mouthing through the items listed in Rothenian. Luckily they were also in German and a rather dubious English. 'Fresh boil pig leg and sour cabbage' sounded rather odd but we'd heard a couple on the next table order it in German and the succulent-looking steaming pink flesh on a bed of sauerkraut looked yummy. We ordered it and in the wait I asked him what was troubling him.

"I'm not quite sure," he said. "You remember Yniold mentioned a man looking at everyone this afternoon." I nodded. "Well, I think I saw him again on the pavement along from the hotel when we came out. That's why I pointed out those bottles of wine in that shop when we stopped. I'm sure he stopped, too, and looked in a shop a bit further back."

"Do you think we're being followed?"

"I don't know, but I'm quite sure it's the same man."

I felt a bit uneasy knowing our bags had been searched and my pencil-case had been taken but we did enjoy the ham on the bone and had an equally yummy portion of 'obsttorte' for pud. As we relaxed over a cup of coffee, feeling replete, Tris went to the lav. When he returned he was smiling.

"There's another way out," he said. "When we've paid you say you must go to the loo and I'll follow you. There's a door which leads into a back alley. I guess it's open as it's a hot night."

Tris was clearly worried so I followed his suggestion. We thanked the lady at the cash desk and I did as I was told and we were soon in the alley which led into a parallel road. There was no one about and we took the second road along back to the busier road towards the hotel. We did a stop and Tris mouthed that he didn't think anyone was following us. We walked past the hotel uphill towards the Spa complex but didn't quite reach it then strolled back enjoying the warm night air as were the couples or small groups also walking or sitting at the outside terraces of the numerous cafes.

Tomas was on duty again. He smiled when he saw us and held up his comic book. "Wham, kabam!!" he said, "Get him Robin!"

I wondered how juvenile literature was going to help him cope with engineering texts? At least his accent wasn't bad. Tris as ever played to the audience.

"Hi, Batman, who are the baddies around here?" he asked, leaning on the reception desk.

"I do not know, Commissioner, but there is a strange person out there." Tomas grinned as he acted his role.

"A strange person?"

"He looks in the door and walks away and then he looks again. Times and times. Then he goes."

"You think he is looking for someone?"

"Yes, Commissioner, we must warn the people of Gotham." Tomas said this dramatically then stared at the door. "The evil man has looked and gone again! He is the Joker!"

Oh, bugger! I'd missed him as I was watching the pair hamming it up. Should I rush to the door. Better not. If it was someone watching us it would alert him that he'd been spotted.

I broke the spell. "Perhaps it's someone who wants a room."

Tomas shook his head. "There is a notice saying we have no rooms." He paused. "I can say 'We are full'?"

"Yes", said Tris, "In English we also say 'No Vacancies'. Let me write it down for you."

Tomas passed him a piece of paper and a biro. "I will give that to Uncle Ignasz and he can have the notice in English also." Oh, so Tomas was Ignasz's nephew. He waited while Tris wrote it down then studied it carefully. "The English boys have gone to the Wejg tonight. One said my English was good."

"You should read other books," Tris said. "Do you have any English books?"

Tomas shook his head. "I have the Gymno books and I have read ..." He screwed his face up. "...Sherlock 'Ol-mez. About a big dog. Very difficult."

Good old Tris. For the next quarter of an hour or so he explained the correct pronunciation and also found that Tomas had understood more of the book than he had thought. I knew why Tris was staying in the reception area, so I kept an eye on the door. Disappointment, no one peered in though one young couple did stop, but only to have a slight snog. Tris promised to find another book for him to read. We waved goodnight and went upstairs to bed.

Having two single beds was a bit limiting. However, we did manage to release our third loads for the day and Tris was certainly a lot more relaxed after that. The noises off in the next room after Brett and Fraser returned much later didn't keep us awake but we knew two lively lads there were enjoying each other's company!

Friday

Luckily I'd remembered to set my little alarm clock to wake us earlier. After a quick breakfast in the nearby caf‚ I got my things ready for my presentation. I took Tris's laptop out of it's carrying case and it fitted nicely into my shoulder bag together with my notes and pads of paper. Tris said I had to make sure I didn't drop it or bang it as he knew how clumsy I was. An almost Toad-like sneer was his reward for that kind statement.

The lads next door were still not stirring when we stood on the pavement at eight twenty- five. At eight thirty a taxi drew up and the driver handed Tris a card signed by Father Artur. The drive to the Cathedral took us on a route we hadn't explored. We crossed the Rodolferplaz and travelled quite slowly along the busy Domstrasse and crossed the river by what looked like a rebuilt bridge. I knew from my guide book we would now be in the old city, again much rebuilt since medieval times but still with a grandeur. The road rose upwards towards the Cathedral which stood in splendour, its triple spires soaring, on one side of a fine cobbled square. It was flanked by two imposing buildings. The one to the right I assumed was the Archbishop's Palace and the other opposite could only be a monastic precinct. We stopped well back as the square had already been cordoned off in part ready, I imagined, for the funeral procession later.

Our driver wouldn't take the tip that Tris offered him but handed him his card.

"That is my number," he said in English, "I will take you to the Rodolfer when you are ready."

Oh, had Father Artur told him about my involvement with the University? We thanked him and walked over to the Abbey and looked at the gatehouse and the stone balcony.

I pointed to it. "That must be where Rudi was proclaimed. I remember seeing a picture of it in the Times."

"Somewhere to explore if we have time," said Tris pointing to the imposing door in the gateway.

"That's if they allow visitors," I said.

We negotiated the barriers and a policeman stopped us. I fished Dr Valentin's letter out and showed him. I don't know if he could read English but must have seen the name printed at the top. He gave a half salute and pointed to the side of the cathedral. The side entrance to the cathedral was another very ornate door which was propped open as two sweating figures were taking in stacks of chairs. We slipped inside as they came out for another load. Father Artur was just inside the door with a clipboard and talking to another priest and a stocky, late middle- aged bearded man. Beards seemed to be the thing in Rothenia!

Father Artur spotted us. "Ah, good," He handed his clipboard to the other priest who hurried off. "We are expecting many this morning. The Monsignor was very loved and was here from choirboy until he died." He turned to the bearded gentleman. "Doctor Valentin, may I introduce Mark Foster and Tristan Price-Williams." He had our names off pat!

Dr Valentin had twinkling dark eyes behind thick-lensed glasses. "My boys, I have pleasure in meeting you!" He had a deep, almost fruity voice with a marked French accent. "Artur, I will take them as you are busy. I can tell you the music for Father Bonifasz will be grand.." He turned to us. "Please to follow me."

He led the way to the West end of the huge building where there was a magnificently decorated organ with pipes spread all over its frontage up on a balcony.

"You know this organ?" he asked.

I said I had read the description and I had heard a recording which had been lent to me. He smiled and held a finger up. "You will hear it and play it."

The way up was a rather winding well-worn stone staircase with a rope held by rings in lieu of a handrail. It was also rather dimly lit. This gave into quite a wide organ loft with the console in the middle. Four manuals and rows of stop knobs either side of them. Oh! Something I was not familiar with was the straight pedal board, not the radiating concave one found on most British organs. I'd only played one of these before and knew my feet would have to be careful!

He pressed a couple of buttons and I heard the unmistakable sound of the bellows being filled. He smiled as he turned to me. "You can see we do not have help for the player." I could see there were no buttons under the manuals to draw groups of stops. "There is a tutti pedal and three coupler pedals each side for the manuals and pedals. That's all!" He laughed. "I am lucky I have four students who act as my assistants. They are my combination buttons! Unfortunately two are on vacation so I have to rely on Georg and Anton today. Georg has his Diplom but Anton is Second Year but good. They will come later." He slid onto the organ bench and drew some stops. I noticed another difference. On British organs the stops with the higher sounding ranks started at the top and ran down to the longer and lower sounding pipes at the bottom. Here it was the opposite. I would also have to translate. I knew the organ had been originally built in about 1750 by a German. He began to play on the lowest manual. I realised another difference, this was the equivalent of the English Great, our second manual. As he improvised he drew other stops without looking. The sound grew and then he added the pedals and ended on a magnificent C major chord.

I was captivated. This was the largest organ I had ever been let loose on. It was my turn. He slid off the bench and pushed in all the stops he had drawn. "You are puzzled," he said, "I will help. What will you play."

"Manuals only first, please," I said thinking I would try a memorised Voluntary by Maurice Greene. "Diapason eight foot and a four foot."

"On here Prinzipals." He drew two stops.

I lost myself in the glorious sound. As I played so he drew more stops when I started the Vivace which added further richness. He nodded benignly as I finished. I thought I'd better keep to the manuals before trying the strange pedal board. "I would like to try the Wesley Air and Gavotte."

"I know that," he turned and opened a cupboard door and found a book of pieces including that one. He put it on the desk. "We have no Swell. This is the Brustwerk..." He indicated the second manual. "And these the Oberwerk and Echo." These were the top two manuals. "I will help. Let us start." He drew stops for the top three manuals. I was in Heaven. I had never experienced such sounds and played my very best. "The Gavotte," he said and drew stops for the bottom manual and more for the Brustwerk. I think Wesley would have been proud of this English lad! In fact he drew some pedal stops and for the last few bars I managed to deal with the straight pedal bars without any errors. I'd kicked off my shoes to begin with so played in stockinged feet.

I mentioned two of my favourite pieces, the Alain and the Rheinberger Sonata number Four. Both were immediately found and he drew stops for the Rheinberger and as I played, including the pedals which I was becoming used to, he whispered which manual to use. After changing manuals upwards, as the sounds got quieter in the first movement, the Tonus Peregrinus played on the Echo was so sweet and ethereal I had great difficulty in not slowing down and savouring the timbre. But then the gradual crescendo towards the end of the first movement to a full-blooded final three chords over the pedal A was a real work of art. Even with careful programming of combinations I would never have had achieved it. The same with the Alain Deuxieme Fantaisie. It sounded so different, but so right. But, all too soon the hour was up. We had to go but as I turned to get off the bench there were two other lads sitting listening.

We were introduced to Georg and Anton. Georg was about my age but Anton was much younger. Both were very friendly and congratulated me on my playing. But we had to hurry off as the cathedral was beginning to fill even though it wasn't yet ten o'clock. I thanked Doctor Valentin who just smiled and said 'My pleasure' and said he would see us again this evening and if I wanted to play again we could make arrangements.

I felt quite euphoric as we exited the building and had to avoid the constant flow of people coming in, all in dark clothes but smiling and greeting each other. In fact we didn't have to phone for a taxi because waiting just the other side of the barrier with the other taxis all disgorging their passengers was our driver who waved when he saw us. "To the Rodolfer," he said as he opened the door for us. I saw Tris stare at him as he closed the door before opening his own and getting in the driver's seat.

I was keen to get back to the University as the final doctoral candidate was going to deal with the geometry of particular minimal structures. One of James' PhD students was also exploring something on these lines and I thought if I made notes I could pass them on. Tris left me at the entrance and said he was going to explore back in the old town. The taxi driver must have overheard and motioned Tris back into the cab saying he had to go back that way. Tris said to me not to worry he would be there at four to hear my gobbledegook .

The candidate had prepared all his presentation on his laptop and I took copious notes without understanding a great deal. I hoped Taki would. He was Greek and all this was Greek to me!! Anyway the young man was successful and while he was being congratulated a man, I assumed to be a Porter, came over to where I was sitting and handed me a note. It was from Professor zum Adamszberh. Would I mind giving my presentation at three o'clock as the scheduled student had met with a bicycle accident. I scribbled 'Yes' on the note, signed it and gave it back. I quickly texted Tris to say I would be on at three instead and went down the steps to the exit.

The Scots lad, Alistair, came over to me and said he was just going in to lunch would I join him? We sat at a table for two and he unburdened himself. He said he wasn't too popular as he'd dropped himself in the shit from the first week he'd been in residence. The general student accommodation was in old Soviet style concrete dormitories and he'd started off by complaining which didn't go down well with the other suffering students. Then when he thought he was well away with a girl in the next dorm he found her brother, being old-style Rothenian, objected to his rather forthright advances and he would have got beaten up if the other students hadn't intervened. As he was pissed at the time his remarks about 'Fucking Rothenians' hadn't gone down well with his rescuers either. He said the other Maths students tolerated him as he had helped a couple who were struggling but... He was fucking glad he'd got his Master's and could get back to Edinburgh and fucking civilisation.

I asked him what he'd seen and done otherwise since being here. "Bugger all to see," was his comment. No, he hadn't been to the Opera, or to concerts, he'd been to the Zoo once, never been to the old city so hadn't seen the splendours inside the St Vitalis Cathedral, one visit to the Spa and he'd been accosted by an 'old poof', as he put it, who asked if he was interested in being a model, no bloody rugger and only handball and who wanted to see nude kids at the Spa playing it. I came to the conclusion he was a doleful character and nothing like young Curt or Logan or any of the Scots I'd met so far. I remembered Curt had said half of them seemed to have no sense of humour and were homophobic. I left him in no doubt about Tris and me and he looked a bit wistful. I didn't out Logan but did say he earned his pocket-money serving drinks at a gay club. He did seem a bit interested at that and said he'd been taken to a gay bar on the Wejg his first week but didn't remember anything much about it as the schnapps had been flowing freely. I had the feeling that Alistair hadn't, say, 'made up his mind'. The girl episode I felt was to establish his macho credentials. But.. I came to the conclusion he was rather like Pete Padmore so there were more questing beasts than I had realised.

Anyway, Agony Uncle Mark was rather more concerned to check his notes and see if the cables fitted Tris's laptop, so made his excuses and left Alistair as soon as lunch was consumed. There was a technician in the lecture hall preparing the ordinary overhead projector and he smilingly hooked up the laptop and I ran through the presentation. He stared rather goggle-eyed at the end at the huge image of Ivo/Adam and Francis, and even more so at the cavorting figures. He laughed and clapped his hands when I nodded and said 'thank-you'. I bet he wondered what those two pictures had to do with maths!

The student at two o'clock was so hesitant and fumbling I just wondered if the lad really knew what he was trying to do and say. The material seemed very elementary even to me. Big- head! There was a polite murmur as he finished and then it was my turn. Again there was an appreciable audience. Father Artur must have been primed as he appeared dead on time. I scanned the audience but didn't spot Tris. I started by saying I had enjoyed being here so far and I would like to introduce this afternoon's topic by telling them a bit about how I came to solve the problem I would be presenting and it was all part of my life at St Mark's.

I explained I was the Pennefather Organ Scholar and showed the first few pictures of the College, the Chapel and me seated at the organ. I said that another thing I'd solved was a sixteenth century code which resulted in the discovery of hidden treasures. I showed pictures of the brilliant page from the Book of the Hours and of the coin and then I said about the discovery of the wall paintings and their renovation. Those two pictures nearly caused a riot. The seemingly staid audience erupted with shouts and whistles as the first image appeared. I glanced at Father Artur who was laughing his head off and the four faculty members in the front row were hooting with mirth. The cavorting dancers just about took the roof off. As they quietened down I pointed out the Captain of Boats, Charles with his tambourine and then Tris and me. I don't know what was shouted out but even Father Artur doubled up and had to mop his eyes with a large handkerchief. There were renewed guffaws as I explained about the broken tooth and the crucial words of the preacher. I said that all were welcome to visit the College and there were postcards for sale there. I got through the proof OK and at the end the applause was tremendous. As I stood there the faculty members came up and shook my hand and the middle- aged lady among them hugged me and I got three very motherly kisses from her.

Father Artur came over, too. He was still laughing. "I think you must tell the Cardinal that story. He will need cheering up. I hear the Vatican is not pleased about something at the moment. A matter of doctrine over things that have happened here, I expect, and His Eminence has very forthright views. See you tonight!"

I hadn't realised but Tris had been there for the whole lecture. He was now surrounded by a crowd of students who had recognised him from the picture. We stood together with the picture of the dancers behind us on the screen - the technician had flipped through the presentation again - and several students took photos on cameras or mobiles. We managed to escape unscathed and made our way back to the hotel. I was rather too euphoric to say much but he said he'd had an interesting day including a quick look inside the Cathedral after the service and had seen members of the royal party, but not Rudi, come out. He hadn't managed to find the chapel for St Guthlac as they were busy clearing the extra chairs and other things. He'd bought a baguette for lunch and had a glass of Pivo beer but was very hungry and was looking forward to tonight's meal. I did note he kept glancing in shop windows as we passed.

At the hotel Ignasz was not happy again. Telephones this time. An engineer had been and had said the telephones in the hotel were faulty and guests were complaining. He had to check the lines and would see if there were problems. "He would not let Magda go with him." Magda was the lady who cleaned so Tomas had told us the first night as she went out. "I hope he did not steal. He was foreign and I do not trust them. Please to check your room he was in there."

Tris said nothing but he looked thoughtful as we trudged up the stairs. I needed a pee so had that first then went straight into the study to replace the laptop in its usual case. The case wasn't on the desk where I'd left it but was lying open on the floor by the window. I went to the door to tell Tris. He was standing by his bed quite rigid, his eyes darting around and looking pensive. Just as I was going to say about the open case he put his finger to his lips.

"Igpay Atinlay," he said very plainly, "Uy-shay upway! Uggedbay!" He motioned to the door with his thumb. "Et-gay out-way!"

To be continued: