Tom Browning's Schooldays

Tom Browning's Schooldays

By

Joel

Chapter Two

Wednesday Night

I quickly mopped my juices from where they had landed on my belly and dropped the rag on the floor. There was no further noise from above so, after arranging my nightshirt and bed covers, I settled myself for slumber. I was both tired and excited. I had arrived at this new experience for me, a school, and had met several of my companions-to-be, friends I hoped. And now I had revelled in those actions which I always found when finished helped me to relax. I dropped into a sound sleep.

Thursday Morning

I woke with a start as I heard a bell tolling and I counted six. I shook my head slightly in wonderment then realised I was no longer at home in Careby Hall but I also realised that which happened each morning now was aching for attention. My unruly pizzle was up hard against my belly as the night before. There was no sound from the canopied bed above so I shifted my covers down and my night shirt up and repeated those movements I had learned to enjoy. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth as slowly at first I worked drawing my foreskin back until the tip of my peg was poking just free of the tightness. I could not free it completely yet like Rowley and my blacksmith friends. Even Robin was like me but the others said with time and effort we would be like them. "Much effort needed," as Jacob Barker told us. My pace quickened as I felt the first pulses within and with a rising gasp I let my morning juices spurt. I breathed in and out deeply several times, still with my eyes tightly shut.

"My," came a voice from above, "Our young Tom is well-acquainted with the sin of Onan. Will we be lulled to sleep and woken each morning by his most musical efforts? I am certain he has the rhythm and a tuneful throat to keep us entertained every day and night."

My cheeks must have reddened as I opened my eyes and saw two grinning faces peering at me over the edge of the big bed.

Of course, it was George who had commented.

"George, let the boy enjoy himself. You are no slouch yourself in showing your own prowess whenever possible outdoing Onan himself, no doubt." Theo winked at me. "Good show, my boy!"

I recovered my composure. I wrinkled my nose knowing both these had made free with their own pizzles the night before. "If you both read Genesis chapter thirty-eight carefully you will know that Onan's sin was not spilling his seed wantonly but that he did not marry his sister-in-law as ordered. He was struck down for that and not for what I am told all boys do."

George guffawed and Theo chuckled. "Not only is he well-versed in Greek and Latin but he is a Biblical scholar, too," said George. "Why is it then that so many fathers beat their sons when they are found stroking their pizzles if it is not a sin?"

"Quite simple," said Theo, "No doubt it is because of their own lost youthfulness. I know my brother Percy has recourse to his hand although he is married and it makes him feel guilty...."

"....You have not told me this before," interrupted George looking sideways at Theo.

Theo's grin was even wider. "I only learned that during this last holiday." He stopped. "Perhaps, I should tell you when we are alone." The grin disappeared.

I was getting interested as I was learning things. "Why alone?" I said, "Why not tell me as well?"

George nodded. "If young Tom is to be a good companion we must have no secrets. I have two brothers, one is married and I know Geoffrey, who is not married, does still take pleasure as we do...."

Neither of my brothers were married and were much older than me. I did not know if either pleasured themselves as I did but I knew that Torquil had pleasured himself in a different way some fifteen years ago.

George changed the topic. "...So, Tom, you must tell us later how you know all about poor Onan, but we must get up and down to the outhouse before the others wake. Here, wipe yourself first and put these on." A pair of what I took to be running drawers landed on my chest.

I pulled my nightshirt off over my head and grabbed the cloth and cleaned myself. I stood with now a drooping pizzle and pulled on the drawers. They had a drawstring at the waist which I pulled tight and tied. They were not too big. Just right. The other two were now also arrayed as I was.

"No need for an undershirt today. Pull on those light boots of yours and don't make too much noise." George was putting his rather large feet into his slippers.

Having released my lustfulness I now needed a good piss so I was ready to hurry.

"Here take these," said Theo. He handed me some sheets of paper. I noted they were covered with scribbles in Latin and Greek. "You must keep your own papers as some boys are rather profligate with any provided. It is important you are not caught wanting as very few will respond to your cries for help. Now, bring a towel with you."

I did not know what would come next but we padded as quietly as possible down towards the door leading outside. A sleeping figure was in the small box-like room near the door. George put a finger to his lips as he unhooked a key hanging on a nail by the sleeper. He quietly unlocked the door and dropped his towel behind it as he pushed the doorstop against it. Theo and I left our towels as well as we filed out and ran towards the outhouse. We were first.

"Good," breathed George, "There will be no shit on the seats and it has been well- limed." He stood by a trough and pulled up the leg of his drawers and let fly with a stream of hot piss. Theo was beside him and I noted his lanky pizzle as he breathed almost a sigh of contentment. I copied them and three boys grinned and looked at each other as a vapour rose in the cool air. "I needed that," George said as his stubby peg was shaken as he finished. He moved further into the outhouse where a row of doorless stalls were set up. "Make sure you empty well," he said, "I do not recommend this place later in the day unless it is very urgent. I know Mr Pretyman has asked for it to be cleansed at noon as well as each evening but the night-soil men will come only once a day and that when it is dark."

I took an end stall and sat and eased myself. At least I was not bound nor suffered with the flux. The paper was rather rough but looked better than the few sheets tied with string hanging from the side. I did not feel too clean but George sitting in the next stall told me that we could scour hidden parts in the washroom. I had just finished when a number of boys crowded in jostling for a place by the trough. There was little noise as most seemed only half awake. What would wake them and the dead was the volley of farts which then sounded as others rushed for places in the stalls.

George was greeting all and sundry as he stood and waited for Theo and me. I thought he must be well-liked as many a laugh and jest passed. I was then hurried out and we rescued our towels and passed the still sleeping figure. George led the way into the washroom nearby. "Good," he murmured, "There is some warm water." He pointed to a low table with basins on it. "Ladle some into one of those and make sure you clean your arse last. That oaf Macauley has been known to have shit on his moustache and wondering where the stink comes from."

Theo was already filling his basin and had washed his face and arms by the time I had ladled half a basin full. "I have forgotten my soap," I said.

"Don't fret," said George, "there is always a piece or two under here."

He bent down and retrieved a small lump of almost black soap. He lathered his hands with it. "You must not fuss too much. Try it."

I think it was the roughest lye soap I had seen. We used better on our horses when preparing them for show for customers. Still, it did lather somewhat and after I had finished my upper body I cast off my drawers and quickly cleaned myself on both sides.

"Don't be too long or someone coming in might think you are a delectable young virgin," said George. "Quick, I hear footsteps."

I was quick. My drawers were on even though I was still a little damp. Again, we were invaded by numerous boys until basins were being shared and water was slopping all over the tiled floor. We were finished and out with George still carrying on conversations as boys passed us, many of whom looked at me curiously. I recognised several from the night before but was not able to place names to them. That would come I thought.

As we went through the open door the sleeper was stretching awake.

"Good morning, Mr Pullen," said George. "You have not yet met our new fag Thomas Browning."

So this was arse-whipper Pullen. Begging his pardon, Mr Pullen. I noted a man of more than middle age, of medium height, red faced with drooping moustaches and lank hair and a sneering face. And I was introduced to this creature as 'new fag'. He then farted and squirmed, his shirt loose and the top of his britches undone. He stared at me with red rheumy eyes.

"I hope you do not come to my attention Mr Browning. I remember your brother Mr Terence Browning and I have not forgiven him for cutting one side of my moustache while I slept. He felt my switch more than once for that and other things." The nose sneered.

"I am sure I shall be circumspect," I said hating this creature even from this first meeting.

George poked me in the back. "We shall leave you to your duties, Mr Pullen."

His imitation of the sneer was perfect as he turned to me at the top of the stairs. There we were met by the three from the room next to ours. Young Bayes looked most unhappy. As the older two went down the stairs after greeting us he turned to George. "I tried to wake them earlier and now there will be no clean water and the outhouse will stink."

"Come with us tomorrow," said George, "We will be early."

As we entered our room I asked if I had time to visit the stables as I wanted to check on Blaze my gelding. I also wanted to see if Robin was settled in. I mentioned only Blaze.

"We have about half-an-hour before breakfast. Just time to check. You know the way?"

I said I did and dressed as quickly as I could. I hurried out, passing a few laggards still making their way to the outhouse or the washroom. I had carefully noted the path at the back of the House towards the stable area. It took but two minutes to find the stable. It was busy. There were five or six boys around, some forking straw into stalls and the two rows of horses I could see seemed content eating. Two boys were raking the used bedding straw and one was shovelling it out into a barrow ready for the midden.

Robin was carrying a pail of water for the drinking trough. He saw me and smiled. I hurried over to him and out of sight of his companions I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Are you settled?" I asked.

He smiled again. "Very well. I have quarters above the tack room which I am sharing with Timmy." His smile went. "I must tell you sometime there is something amiss with him. I need good advice. But first, Blaze and Silver. Come over to the end as I have them in two stalls side by side."

I followed him and there was my good steed with his companion brother. They both recognised me and neighed as I stroked their cheeks. Robin passed me two apples and I gave them one each. "They are as well-settled as you I see," I said, "Is the feed good?"

My father was always insistent that to keep a horse well and strong then the feed must be of the highest quality.

"I am satisfied with the hay and the oats but will make certain they have sufficient and I will exercise them both this morning."

"I wish I could come with you," I said rather wistfully. I was used to riding each day. "I will ask my fag-master..." Here Robin grinned at me. "....He will tell me when there is some free time."

Robin chuckled. "'Fag-master'! When have you had a master, Tom?" The grin broadened. "Your father has always given you free rein and who has had all the village boys under his command like Milord Wellington after Jabez Bottom left?" I felt better and grinned, too, remembering Jabez and the pranks we shared. "But I must call you Master Browning now." He bowed his head slightly then wrinkled his nose "I was told sharply yesterday that is how I must address you. Mr Darlow the head groom said I was impertinent and deserved a switching when he heard me telling Shem about you and calling you Tom."

I snorted. "You know I am always Tom and always will be. But, this Shem? I have met two serving boys, Japhet and Ham. Are they brothers?"

Tom nodded. "Yes, Shem is the eldest as in Genesis." He smiled. "It is good as the two boys brought us extra portions last night and Shem said he hoped this would continue."

Just then I heard a bell strike seven. "I must go. I miss you, Robin, and I miss Blaze. Take care of you both. I will make an effort to come again today and you can tell me more."

Robin's grin broke out again. "And you must tell me about your fag-master and all your doings."

I rushed off not to be late for breakfast and heard Robin whistling my favourite 'Greensleeves' as he set to work again.

I was not late. I had some minutes back in our room with George and Theo before going down for half past seven. George was rather sad. He said he was not looking forward to being in Old Bartleby's Remove with all the scum of the school. Theo was trying to comfort him by saying we would help him study and if he was examined before Christmas he was sure he would escape that pit. I was intrigued. There was something here I did not know. But stomachs were empty and George said we had better go quickly or all the best cold cuts would be gone..

Cold cuts it was, with bread and butter and a hot cordial ladled out into mugs by Japhet. There were flagons of water on the table which George said was clean to drink as a deep well had been sunk and the water was sweet and pure.

"You see," he nudged me and pointed with his fork at two youths on another table, "They have a fear of good water and have brought their own small beer. They suffered greatly at the end of the summer term not because of the water but for the unripe plums they stole from Mr Ridley's garden." He lowered his voice. "Arse-whipper Pullen gave them six strokes for stealing and another three for soiling themselves as he beat them!"

I wondered what I had entered? Boys beaten for stealing a few plums? Our small gang made sure we had full pockets even if Old Man Grainger waved his stick at us when Bobby Travis was jumping down from one of his trees. Isaac Barker laughed when I confessed to him our misdeeds as we had also raided his father's trees. "You have only done what we did when your age and younger. I still have the scar where I gashed my leg jumping that iron fence Squire Matthews has round his orchard. He shouted he would set the dogs on us but we knew the stupid hounds would lick us rather than bite."

Still I was too busy filling my belly than being over-worried. Terence hadn't told me he'd been beaten and had only laughed when told I would be following in his footsteps to Ashbourne. But he had left this place a good dozen years so... I had better pay attention as Theo on my other side was telling me something.

"You will have to sit with your form when we go to Chapel. I have asked young Bayes to take you under his wing. You and he did well yesterday and I have heard he is destined for Cambridge although his father is a professor at London. He told me last year he is kin to a long-dead mathematician and he wishes to study that subject as well."

I liked mathematics. My Uncle Dodd was impatient with calculating and had shown Robin and me ways of reaching answers quickly and demonstrated with sticks he called Napier's Bones as well as tables of long numbers called logarithms. Robin was also very good with number and had made my Uncle laugh when he showed how he had found a quick way of adding all the numbers from one to a hundred which he could use also for any other sequence of numbers. He was not too pleased when Uncle Dodd told him a German boy was seven when he discovered the same thing. But then, Robin was always trying to find new things about numbers and Uncle Dodd said he should not be discouraged and that many discoveries were made by two or more people without them realising. He told us about Isaac Newton in Cambridge and another German who had found a way of measuring change quite independently and there was a great quarrel over who was the first discoverer. Uncle Dodd was very good at explaining things like that and I hoped my masters here would be the same.

Breakfast over and we had a few minutes before going to Chapel. Aubrey Bayes explained that as it was the first day of term then Mr Ridley would probably take the service. We filed into a Chapel much bigger than our small village church. It was plainly decorated with the Lord's Prayer painted by the side of the window. There was a table altar and a tall pulpit. A gowned master was playing the small organ and I recognised a march by Handel which Aunt Matty Dodd often played in our church. Aubrey passed me a book. I saw it was Common Prayer with hymns at the end and I took a quick look. I knew most of the hymns I scanned and the first one was 'All people that on earth do dwell' which I liked.

I looked around as the rest of the school were still entering. I had never seen so many boys together. The very young ones were in the front rows with us behind them and older boys behind us. There were about sixteen others who sat near the organ and I assumed were a choir. All was then silence as a row of masters in gowns came down the centre aisle and took their places at the end of rows. Two clergymen in plain black gowns and bands at their throats took their seats below the pulpit. One was Mr Ridley. He looked around at us all arrayed in front of him and in a few words welcomed us all - he did mention that new boys were especially welcomed and Aubrey gave me a surreptitious nudge.

I was familiar with the service but it was much shorter than when Uncle Dodd was in full flow. Only one Sentence was read, that one from St John about confessing our sins. We all then knelt and said the General Confession and listened while the other clergyman gave us Absolution. I looked up at the wall when we said the Lord's Prayer. When he had finished the prayers Mr Ridley then read through the psalm 'O come, let us sing unto the Lord' as was appointed. The readings from the Old and New Testament were given by two of the older boys who were sitting with the choir and between these the other clergyman said the Te Deum. After the prayers and the Creed Mr Ridley then announced we would sing a hymn which was the one I had spotted. We all stood and the tune was one I knew as well - the 'Old Hundredth'. My, there was a joyful noise. I sang as loudly as I could and I think everyone else did, too. I hardly listened to the rest of the service as I was too busy trying to look at others around me and was almost surprised when the last Amen was said. Aubrey Bayes prodded me.

"That's over for another day," he said quietly, "Can't say I find it interesting except I like to sing."

I pondered that as we filed out but my thoughts were interrupted by the young master with a white neckcloth above his high-necked black jacket who had sat at the end of our row. He tapped me on the shoulder.

"You're Browning, aren't you?"

I turned and said I was.

"Good, you are in my form and I see you have Bayes as a helpmeet." He hurried off.

"That's the Reverend Martin," Aubrey said, " I like him. He's very fair and he's very clever. Won the Greek Verse Prize twice at Oxford then was up at Cambridge for Divinity."

Greek verse! Uncle Dodd had tried with me but I wasn't very good at getting the rhythm right whereas Robin always seemed to just get the metre as well as the rhyme. I would have to practice I knew, but I would never be a Homer! And Mr Martin was another clergyman.

Anyway, Aubrey said we need not take any books to Mr Martin's class as we would be given those we needed but said I would have to buy a good Latin dictionary and a Greek lexicon. I said I had both but would check with Mr Martin to see if they were sufficient and rushed up to the room to collect them.

So, to my first class. I counted fifteen of us already in the room. Looking round I think I was the youngest with Bayes and another boy sitting next to him. Several of the older boys had moustaches and small beards so I judged them to be sixteen or seventeen. As we sat three other older ones sauntered in and finally a scurrying figure appeared. It was Theo. He spotted us and lumped down on the desk bench next to me. "Had to see George was alright," he whispered.

Mr Martin looked up from behind the desk on the dais where he was sitting. All looked up at him.

"You have already been welcomed but we do have four newcomers here who are joining us having lost five to this year's Sixth Form and we await three of last year's who are still journeying." He stood and read from a piece of paper. "So, welcome again to Archbold, Browning, Simpson and Verity. Please stand so your fellow sufferers can identify you and also say which House you are in."

The boy next to Aubrey stood and a quick glance over to my right showed two slightly older boys, one with a discernible humped back. He was Verity and was in Carstairs' House as was Simpson next to him. I noted their caps had dark blue tassels whereas mine for Ridley's House had light blue. Archbold in the front row was in Parker's House. His tassel was green. Then it was my turn so I said my name very clearly and declared I was in Ridley's House. I think a couple of the boys looked at me rather admiringly when I said that. I had the impression that Mr Ridley chose the boys in his House rather carefully.

We four new ones were given sheets of paper and told to write about ourselves while Mr Martin would question us individually about our prowess in the major subjects of Latin, Greek, Mathematics, Geography and History. The rest of the form were given a long passage from Virgil to construe and there were a few groans which caused Mr Martin to laugh.

"Perveniri ad summa sine industria non potest," he said, "That shall be our motto. Any new boy construe, please."

My hand was up but the boy Verity called out 'One cannot reach the highest without industry!'. Mr Martin looked sharply at him.

"You are correct but I prefer to see a boy's hand raised. However, non modo tibi non irascor, sed ne reprehendo quidem factum tuum."

He must have seen me smile. "Browning, tell me what I just said."

"Sir," I responded immediately, "Not only are you not angry with Verity..." I had remembered his name. "... But you do not blame his action of speaking out."

He smiled, too, "Ita ut dicis."

Yes, I knew that was what he had said!

He nodded towards me. "Quot annos natus es?" [How old are you?]

I had better answer in Latin! "Domine, quatuordecim annos natus sum." [Sir, I'm 14.]

He looked along the row. "Et tu, Simpson?"

Simpson was ready. "Idem magister."

He looked behind me. "Et tu, Veritas?

I heard a giggle. "Quindecim annos natus sum magister," Verity said. Oh, a year older than me.

"Et tu, Archbold?"

"Quintum decimum annum ago, Sir." [I am in my fifteenth year.]

"Quando tibi natalis dies est?" [When is your birthday?]

There was a moment's pause. "Natus tricesimo die mensis Novembris sum, Sir."

So Archbold was just five months older than me as I was born on the thirtieth of April and Simpson was also fourteen. I looked along at him. He was very thin and looked rather pale and was looking about him rather anxiously.

Simpson was called to the dais first so I sat for a moment thinking about what I should write. Settling on a plan I described the village I lived in and noted that my father bred horses as well as being a farmer of three hundred acres. I wrote that my two elder brothers had been at this school but were now cavalry officers and that I had two married sisters as well. I said I had not attended a school before but had been tutored by my Uncle, Dr Dodd, who was Rector of the parish and mentioned that my desire was to become a physician, perhaps. I was so engrossed in my task I did not notice that the other two had also been up for questioning. Just as I paused wondering if I should tell of my enjoyment of riding Mr Martin called my name.

"Browning, it is your turn now." I took up the three sheets I had written on and made my way to the dais. Verity had just finished being at the desk and looked at me quizzically as he came towards me. Yes, his humped back was most noticeable and I noted he also had a lame leg. I smiled at him as we passed and he grinned back and nodded.

All was very quiet in the room except for the scratch of pens and a few sighs. I heard a furtive whisper from behind me but could not make out what was said. I stood by the desk and held up the sheets. Mr Martin took them and looked at them without saying a word. When he had read through all I had written he nodded and smiled at me.

"Well, Browning, you write a fair hand and your penmanship is bold and well-formed. There is a fluency in your account and I have a good idea of where you are from and of your family and whoever taught you grammar and syntax has done you a service. A farm and horses. I assume you ride."

"Sir, that is a great pleasure for me. I had my first pony when I was five and have had a fine gelding since I was ten. He is stabled here and I miss not riding every day."

"That must be remedied. If your work is good we could allow an hour perhaps most days but you would have to work hard during prep time."

I had not heard that word before, 'prep', but assumed that was the time when we prepared our work for the next school-day.

He, like Verity, also regarded me quizzically. "Dodd? I was up with a Dodd at St Mark's." He laughed. "Yes, he was reading to be a physician and we said his name was most appropriate. Lancelot - as that was what he would be doing when in practice."

"That is my cousin, Sir. He has said it is a good name and serves him well."

"Capital, capital!" he said with a laugh. "He was a good student and we had many good times together before he went to Edinburgh to finish his training. You must tell him you are now my pupil." He put the papers down. "Now, you displayed some prowess at Latin, a little Greek now. Tell me, what would be the adverb of sophos?" He scribbled the word in Greek letters on the bottom of one of my sheets. [wise]

Ouch! I would have to change omicron to omega in the genitive case sophou and change the last letter upsilon to sigma. It would sound slightly different so I said it as I picked up a pen and scratched sophOs below his word and wrote 'wisely' by the side.

He smiled and nodded. "Good. Enough for the moment. We will leave questioning you any further as I see a slight restlessness amongst the more industrious of our company. Here, take this sheet of calculations and try your best with them."

I took the proffered sheet and saw there were wordy questions as well as equations and a geometrical drawing. I set to and was absorbed and only dimly heard the various boys called on for their translations. I did not think I did too badly even with the geometry where I had to deal with angles of the diagonals in a rectangle.

After Mr Martin had finished with his interrogation of the others he looked at his pocket watch. "It is almost half past ten. You may have a break of fifteen minutes and then we will continue with our History of England." As the others rose and filed out he beckoned our new four. "Do not worry if things seem too strange but I have had this form for two years now and we have made good progress with understanding how this country of ours has reached our present eminence and status. We do not deal with just a catalogue of kings and queens as some classes do but try to understand what has shaped us as we are. I think you will enjoy our discussions." He waved us out.

I had warmed to Mr Martin immediately. Yes, he did seem fair. I did not feel intimidated. Although I had been intent on my task I had surmised that the class as a whole was also earnest in their endeavours. And no construe or anything this evening!

My ruminations were interrupted by my new companions who crowded round the four of us. Poor Simpson looked rather agitated by the attention as we were assailed with questions from every side. We four were moved apart and I found myself with three of the older lads as well as Theo and young Bayes. I had to say where I was from and found my father's reputation as a horse breeder was well-known. One of the older ones had a brother who had been at the school with Terence. He was Cartwright and his father was a Colonel in India and said there would be much trouble out there soon as it was with the Afghans.

Young Simpson must have overheard this as he looked even more anxious. Still, Cartwright said he did not intend joining the army as his uncle was in the City and promised him a position once he had been to Oxford. I found out the other two older ones were Megson and Stewart and they were much amused when I said George Lascelles had chosen me to be his companion Hare in the Saturday chase. "We shall all be running," Stewart said, "You had better lay a good trail as I intend to try for the trophy." There was much banter about this. The trophy for the older racers was an old fox's brush lovingly cared for, so I was told, by Winstanley the Head Praepostor.

"Old Win has won several races for each age in his time here," said Megson, "But he said that he would not run this one to give us a better chance. He does not boast. He has the strongest legs here."

"And the strongest arm. Make sure you do not get called up by the Praepostors for some misdemeanour or your backside will be redder than Usher Pullen's face."

This caused a deal of merriment between the others. We were joined by some of the others who had Verity in their midst. I heard several stories then of their torment of Pullen especially when he was in his cups. He never knew who had undone his britches and painted his pizzle, nor who had written 'arse tickler' on his forehead with black ink. All in all it just made him more irate and as he was usher to old Bartleby there was more thrashing of the stupid oafs for minor offences than in any other form.

"Most of them are too addled in their wits to know if their arses were being warmed by the fire or by Pullen's rod," said a tall boy I learned was Parmenter.

"Pullen's rod would never be hard with all that drink," said another, Cooper, I think. "He is like that porter in Macbeth whose performance it takes away."

"What do you mean?" queried Megson, "I have read the play but do not remember a porter."

"You have read that version my sisters have no doubt," said Parmenter, "But Cooper and I have read what Shakespeare actually wrote. 'Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes: it provokes the desire but it takes away the performance'. He winked at me for no apparent reason. "You all can translate that, no doubt!"

'Lechery'. Yes, I knew that word, too. Robin and I had read 'Macbeth' curled up together on my bed with a candle between us over several nights and had giggled over that particular passage. Robin said it was well-known that strong drink was not good for men's hardness. He said he had heard their neighbour shouting at her husband that his yard was no more than three inches ever and was only good for pissing on the fire and not for her pleasure. As her husband was Rogers the parish constable who spent most of his time in the ale-house we could guess what she meant. Not long after, Robin and I heard her squeals of delight when she was visited in the lock-up next to their cottage by Lemuel Thatcher the Parish Clerk's nineteen-year-old son. Guessing his intent we tried to peer through the top barred window which had not been cleaned for years and saw only dimly a bare arse rising and falling with increasing speed. We made ourselves scarce as the squeals and his exertions ceased. Lemuel did not see us watching him as he walked away with a great smile on his face. After we had helped each other to our own satisfactory ends we, too, had great smiles on our faces. Robin said he heard no more complaints from Mistress Rogers as Lemuel was a frequent visitor after that. He said Mr Rogers must be pleased as he was even more often drunk and, truly, Lemuel's pizzle hard was at least twice that of the poor constable's soft. Yes, nosy Robin had crept in and cleaned a patch of that window!

There was a good deal of laughter at Parmenter's recital. "I bet sixpence that Pullen's yard couldn't get hard either," said Stewart, a rather roly-poly lad with a mass of curly brown hair.

"No bets," said Megson severely, "There is too much gambling in this place."

"Come off it, Meggers," said Parmenter, "It's only a tanner. I'd take it but how would we know?"

"No bets, I say," repeated Megson, "But you'd have to see it out..." He stopped and looked at Simpson and me. "...Leave it! We'll talk later."

"While he's asleep," I said, "He was this morning and his britches were loose and you said he has had his pizzle painted."

There was renewed laughter. "That is true, young Browning, but he was no doubt still drunk from last night and soft with it," said Parmenter, "That won't do."

"Give Randy Annie a whistle," said Stewart, "I've heard she'd show hers to anyone for fourpence."

"And sixpence for a fingering," said someone at the back to a great guffaw from Stewart.

"Cheese it!" said Megson, "Keep it clean!"

"Cheese it yourself, Meggers," said Stewart, "You're not in the vicarage now. Paulson said she's got so much hair..."

Megson was now quite red-faced. "...This is not the place for such conversation."

"And how does Paulson know?" asked Theo with a giggle, "He can only see with those thick specs of his in a bright light!"

"Not you, too, Davis!" said Megson, "And keep your fag out of it, too"

I was incensed. Although I was a new boy and in a lowly position in his view I had had plenty of views of our own Randy Annie in our village. Bessie Phillips was a bit light in the head and was wont to lift her skirts when boys called out rude things to her. As she wore no drawers the display always drew cheers. At least that was all she did as her father made sure no randy lads got any nearer. "No, lad," Isaac Barker had said one day when the shouts could be heard in the forge, "I'd rather sting my arse on a nettle bed than get too close to Bessie. Her father's too handy with that shot gun of his and likely to pepper your Netherlands with no warning!"

But I was not to comment. Mr Martin appeared at the schoolroom door and most obediently we filed back in. On my desk was a copy of Smollett's 'History of England'. I noted there were others on the desks of each of us newcomers.

After he had announced our construe to be prepared that evening was a short passage from the Odyssey he then kept us both enthralled and amused about his description of life at court during the reign of Charles the Second. He also lowered our spirits as he told of the plight of the sailors and people along the Medway during the mid 1660's from the Dutch, but raised them again when he quoted from Mr Pepys's diary when he was Secretary to the Navy. He said that the diary had been written in a shorthand and had only been transcribed about twenty or so years back and he had a copy of part which had then been published. He also read us passages about the plague and said we would study the Great Fire of London as well. I think we learned a lot from that lesson and Smollett's book remained closed.

I was ready for my luncheon and our form dispersed to our Houses and, luckily, we were first into our diningroom. Theo laughingly told me we would be getting 'splosh' today. This turned out to be good bowls of stew with boiled potatoes and hunks of bread. He also said quietly that I was to take no notice of Megson whose father was a vicar and his son was too religious for his own good. I forbore to say that should make Theo even more so as his father was a bishop. But I had realised from knowing Lancelot Dodd that you need not be over religious even though your father was a clergyman.

We were well into our stew when a rather sad-faced George came in and sat opposite me holding an almost overflowing bowl. "I do declare I have learned naught this morning," he said when Theo asked him why he had such a look. "I cannot hear old Bartleby as I have been put at the back and Rusholme and others in front of me play at dice or five stones while Pullen strides up and down with that hazel switch of his." He snorted. "No, he doesn't stride, just limps with those horrid eyes seeing what mischief he can detect. Poor fat Collins had two strokes on his legs when he was slow going up for Bartleby to hear his construe."

"Did Old Bartleby hear you," Theo asked.

George's countenance brightened somewhat. "I did well, he said. I must thank you for your patience." He looked woebegone again. "He has given us some Greek for tomorrow. It is those definitive pronouns again. I cannot keep them in my head. The others do not bother and he gives them passages to write out which I am certain they do not understand. Grimthorpe has two hundred lines of Caesar to copy by Monday for not bothering to prepare his construe." His voice dropped to a whisper. "He said he would write in shit as Caesar stunk anyway." He shook his head. "I now sit beside him and he stinks himself. I doubt he has seen water for a month."

"Do not worry we will help tonight. We have some Greek, too. A passage from Homer and young Tom and I will get that parsed and prettied in no time."

Poor George. He looked ready to weep. "I wish I had your thinking," he said.

"George, but you are our Master of the Hounds on Saturday. You will lead the way in that. You and young Tom will have the rest of us on your heels and no one can doubt you will lay the best trails. If someone else had that task I am certain you would gain the trophy for our age."

"Yes," said George after forking in a slab of meat from the stew and chewing with gusto, "Old Bartleby did say he had heard I was laying the trail and wished me well. Perhaps he is in this world more than we know."

Theo giggled. "We always say that Bartleby lives on the moon as his thoughts are far away, though I have heard he was a good scholar but his eyes are now very bad. That is why he has the Remove and that fiend Pullen as his Usher."

"But Mr Martin does not have an Usher," I said.

"Why should he need one?" Theo said, "Did you note signs of disorder or any noise this morning? No, he does not need an Usher. We are proud to have Mr Martin and we all work hard to prepare for the Sixth Form."

Yes, I had learned new things even in such a short time. I wanted to know more about Mr Pepys and I was intrigued by Mr Martin's remark that sometime he would tell us the connection between oranges and dukes. Theo and one or two others had sniggered at this and Mr Martin had waved a hand and pursed his lips and we passed on to other things.

After lunch we assembled again in Mr Martin's room. For an hour we worked at arithmetical problems while we could hear the youngest of our schoolfellows playing at football on the field outside. Then while the others worked on problems Mr Martin had the four new ones up to the dais and we were questioned on our knowledge of algebra. I made no errors in my working of the examples he gave us even when we had to remove brackets and there were negatives. The easiest was a(b+c) - a(b-c) which I got as 2ac straight away. Uncle Dodd had always laughed as Robin and I tangled over some of the exercises he gave us. He said in all his years he had found little use for algebra but Robin had said we used it all the time when deciding how much feed we needed and the cost when my father had to make a profit on a horse. Uncle Dodd had roared with laughter at that and devised a problem for us where we had to divide the Easter offering between those deserving, those undeserving and those who were vagrants or travellers, in different proportions.

At the end of the hour we were dismissed. Mr Martin beckoned me. "You may ride now but make sure you have that Homer well done for the morning." His eyes twinkled as he said that. I was overjoyed and said I would see Theo later when he said I needed to be back for six o'clock for the evening supper.

I rushed to our room fumbling for my key tied round my neck. Where were my stockings and riding-shirt? I wasted moments looking but they were gone. I hastily found other well-worn stockings and changed as rapidly as possible into my riding-britches and put on my leather jerkin and, remembering to lock the door, rushed down and to the stable.

Robin must have been expecting me as he was standing with both Blaze and Silver saddled. He was holding onto Blaze but a rather dark visaged lad was gripping the leading rein on Silver.

Thank you, Timmy," he said as I took Blaze from him and led him to the mounting- block. I vaulted up and waited until he joined me on Silver. He looked down at the boy. "Make sure you rub some more liniment into Tarquin's foreleg. I will help you when I get back with those pills for him."

We rode out of the yard then were side by side on the country lane we entered. "You seem content," I said as he smiled at me, "Is that the lad you have as companion? Where is he from?" I had not seen such a black-faced boy before.

"Yes, that is Timmy. I do not know if he has another name and I am not sure of his ancestry. He is thirteen and a half but strong as an ox and he has to be to weather the insults and blows of his master. I had to hold him while he wept last night after the beating he received because Tarquin was lame and it was not his fault. If Mr Darlow hadn't said 'Enough' I think I would have punched his master even though he was bigger than me."

"Who is he? Another boy?"

"Yes, the other grooms call him Black Jack and he has an evil temper they say. It is the first time he rode to school and had Timmy riding behind him when he wasn't making him run alongside."

"Run alongside?"

"Yes, Timmy said it was lucky the journey was short but he was used to running about the fells when he was younger."

We fell silent and broke into a trot. Blaze was a good mount and neighed softly as I bent forward and stroked his ears.

"I am so glad we could come here together," Robin said after we had ridden for a while and had returned to walking pace. "I do miss our time together, though, and I must make more effort with my study. I have written out what I have read in that first book of Herodotus." He laughed. "It is best that you do not read it as it might inflame your passions."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He continued to laugh. "Uncle Dodd must have forgotten when he put that volume in my satchel for it describes how the master who is king tells his body-guard that he should endeavour to see his master's wife naked and after he did the wife said he should kill the king. It seemed strange as those people did not permit even men to see each other naked. I thought from what we had read in other books that these Greeks were shameless and wrestled and bathed naked as we have done many times." He was silent for a moment. "And, dear Tom, I miss you so much in bed for we have wrestled there many times, too."

That was true. Often when we had worked hard into the evening with our study it was too dark and cheerless for Robin to go to his home in the village. He would share my bed and we would share secrets and play those games of lust which growing boys delight in.

"We must wait until we have ridden home at Christmas," I said, "But I have not read that Herodotus and you must keep it safe until I can." As I never had secrets from my dearest friend I related what had happened the night before and this morning. He laughed outright.

"My dear Tom, you did no more than you have done every day since you found your pizzle was for more than to piss on old Mother Caudle's cabbages."

I grunted. "And no more than you since the day you found that pissing up the trunk of a tree higher than Jabez Bottom was no longer such good sport!"

We both laughed. No doubt remembering that Jabez Bottom had the lengthiest pizzle of any of our confederates. Why, Isaac Barker had challenged him to measure it against that of our Shetland pony which beat him by less than a hand's breadth. And that was when Jabez was our scullery and boot boy before he went to London to work in Uncle Wright's household.

I could not resist it. "And did you find relief last night?"

He grinned across at me. "Only behind the hay bales. I do not know yet if Timmy takes his pleasure and I have not seen him naked."

"But you said he needed comforting last nigh."

He smiled. "I just held him until he fell asleep on his bed and he was still clothed."

He then pointed to a wide open field. "Mr Darlow rode out here with me this morning and said this all belongs to the school and is good as it is firm and flat." With that he set Silver off at a canter and then a gallop and I followed. It was good to feel the wind against my face and Robin's black locks, as long as mine, streamed out behind him as mine must have done. We slowed down and rode back to the stables at a slower, steady pace.

"The stables look quite new," I said as we dismounted.

"Yes, Mr Darlow says they are less than ten years old and replace old barns. We have forty horses stabled and places for five more and there are eight of us boys with Mr Darlow and two older fellows. I have four mounts to care for. The others are geldings, too, but older than ours and one belongs to a master, Mr Pretyman, I am told but I have not met him yet. That one has a slight mange and I must ask Mr Darlow for some ointment."

"Do you intend becoming a horse-doctor as I intend to be a human doctor?" I asked.

He laughed. "I think I could. Your father has taught me well and he is renowned for his cures."

"But you could do better things," I said. I was so fond of my dear friend and was sad that I seemed to have so much more.

"That I intend," he said with that wrinkle of his nose which always began one of his plans. "But first, I must see to Blaze and Silver then help young Timmy with Tarquin." His radiant smile was what I treasured and that appeared.

"Good night, sweet prince, until tomorrow," I whispered as I turned to walk away. I wanted to hug him but I saw two of his companion lads approaching.

I hurried back to our room pausing only to shed my shirt in the washroom and dousing my head and torso under the pump in the corner. I shook myself and used my shirt to mop most of the water. Both Theo and George were there when I entered.

"I hear you have been riding," said George, looking up from the pages he had been scribbling on. "My, we know you have," he said, twitching his nose.

Theo looked up, too, from the seat beside him at the desk. "The boy does not stink. Take no notice young Tom." He looked at me steadily as I breathed in and out from my exertions in running up the two flights of stairs. "You have washed I see." I puffed my chest out. He smiled. "You are quite the young Adonis..."

I struck a theatrical pose and stroked my right hand down my left arm to the tips of my fingers. "'While smooth Adonis from his native rock ran purple to the sea...'"

"What in the name of Beelzebub are you talking about?" said George.

"'Paradise Lost', my dear fellow," said Theo with a grin, "He knows our greatest poet, too."

George eyed me and shook his head. "What else can our new found friend do?"

"I do play the flute," I said and stopped. I might be boasting.

"And with George on the tongs and the bones we should have a merry sound," said Theo.

"What is it now?" asked George, "'Tongs and bones'? I have heard that but it's not me."

"'Midsummer Night's Dream', eh, young Tom," said Theo, "And do you have your flute with you?"

I nodded, "It is wrapped in my chest."

"Capital!" said Theo, "Saturday night all you new bugs have to entertain in Big Hall. That's over next to Parker's House and all the school will be there for the awarding of the trophies after the chase." He laughed. "Or, all those who are not roaring drunk and pissing against trees like Macauley last night." He was serious again. "Are you good?"

"We have a village band and I join in. My..." I nearly said 'friend'. "...groom Robin plays the fiddle." I didn't add that both of us also played the church organ having been taught by my Aunt Matty Dodd.

"Then you must play. It must be something cheerful, though."

I nodded. I could play a couple of Scotch reels or a country dance or two Mr Venables our bandmaster had taught us for village dances.

I needed to change and get ready for supper. I took off my riding boots, stockings and britches and stood just in my under drawers which were rather short in the leg. Both boys were watching me as I took up my school shirt and pulled it over my head. I was aware my young pizzle dangled free as I did this. Perhaps I was not as blessed as Jabez but even at fourteen I had a good five inches of softness when heated as I was. As I continued to dress a thought struck me.

"My dirty riding shirt and stockings? I could not find them."

George laughed. "I am a good housemaid and cleared up after the young master dropped his under garments. I gave them to our doughty Japhet whose mother washes and irons for us. We are favoured as usually she launders only for our tutors but will remove the smell of horse and young boy for sixpence a week. And you will also get a piece of her gingerbread as well."

"What our good oaf means..." said Theo, "...is that Mrs Williams does all our things for sixpence a week and we will share the expense."

Good, I had not known what would be the arrangements. I had seen some shirts hanging at the back of a house when we rode up to the stables today and had wondered then.

"Thank you," I said, "And do I call the housemaid Georgina?"

George snorted as Theo giggled. "I'll have those britches off you, whipper-snapper, and you'll be running purple on that fine young arse of yours."

"My, our George has learned some poetry!" said Theo as George took a side swipe at him and missed.

Now dressed I was ready for supper but folded my older clothes and put them on an upper shelf. George was also ready for food as he took this to be a signal to stop his studies.

"Come on, Theodore, my stomach is so empty I can hear my belly button rattling against my backbone." He stretched and stood up and indicated the door with his thumb.

After supper none of us three tarried with the others who waited for the tables to be cleared so they could amuse themselves with cards and chess. George settled at the desk with a loud sigh. "Theo, please, once more. I must have those pronouns for tomorrow."

I thought I would help so stood beside him and pointed at the paper before him on the desk. "Why not make a table," I said, "Four lines and just do the singular for nominative, accusative, genitive and dative with masculine, feminine and neuter across the top." I took up his pencil and scribbled 'autos' on the sheet in front of him and wrote 'self' beside it." I then wrote 'autos', 'aute' and ' auto' across from 'Nominative'. Theo took over. He wrote 'himself', 'herself' and 'itself' under my words. Gradually we filled the table with George mouthing each word as it was written. We did not puzzle him by going into more detail as long as he knew just these. Poor George.

I looked up the passage for the construe from the Odyssey. I had seen these lines before as they were from the beginning of book one. I tried my best. 'Tell me my Muse of that man of many parts..." I began and was pleased as I only had to check about six words in my lexicon in those first eight lines. I did not look at the translation which Uncle Dodd had slipped into my hands just two days before I left home. "Try not to cheat," he said with his usual smile, "But this tells a tale of great adventures and is even better than a penny-dreadful!"

Theo kept an eye on George, as he copied down rows of the words without looking at the contents of the table, and managed his own construe at the same time and also made headway with the sheet of mathematical problems I had almost finished this morning. We did not cheat. We looked neither at cribs nor each other's work. We just grinned at each other as we scribbled our solutions to Greek and mathematics.

In the end George saw we had completed our tasks and breathed a sigh of relief. "I will know it all no better. I think Tom has a reward for us. A slice of that ham, eh? I'll get a crust or two from the kitchen."

He was off like a shot and Theo laughed. "Our George and his belly. You do not mind?"

No, I did not mind. I knew the ham was good. It had been smoked carefully by our stalwart butcher and it was from one of our own young porkers. I got up and took one from it's canvas bag. And sniffed it. "Even better than horse," I said. Theo laughed.

"George's nostrils are very sensitive. I wager he can smell plum duff at fifty yards. That is why he makes sure we get to the outhouse early." He smiled. "I did not ask before but you have not found your work difficult so far?"

I said I had not and any competence I had was due to the good teaching of my Uncle Dodd, but I would be glad if we could share any problems we might have. Two heads are often better than one. Theo nodded and agreed and said we must also include George as he needed a good deal of help.

It didn't take long for George to return from his errand. "Mrs Partridge was still there and said she wished all boys were as polite as me," he said displaying a platter with bread and lump of butter, "My mother says I can turn on the charm whenever it is needed."

Theo tossed his head. "He's useful, young Tom. We've had many an extra when he flutters those lashes of his at the cooks. I wonder if they will have the same effect on younger ladies when he goes a-wooing."

"When I'm ready then I'll try. Now where is that good sharp knife of mine?" He rummaged in a bag by the side of the bed and drew out an ornate dirk of some kind. He held it up for my inspection. "My father was given this by an old Scotch chieftain when he offered shelter to him and his companions some twenty years ago. They were off to America so he told me. Why, I do not know."

Didn't George know about the clearances which my father had said were still going on today? But, good food was here. George proved to be expert with the knife. Thin slices of succulent ham were soon devoured by three boys who not long ago had filled up with hot meat broth and bread. George breathed another sigh as the last remnants of slices of ham and bread disappeared. He burped. "My father says it is polite in some heathen countries and I do not know why we do not have that custom."

Theo had also finished his repast. "You would say that, too, if you made a fart."

George looked affronted. "I would not. Only uncouth creatures like Pullen and that stinking hound Grimthorpe would make that excuse. Now young Tom have you decided when I might ride?"

We discussed times and I found that after Chapel on Sunday morning we were free for most of the day until the evening service. The only rule was that we spent time writing home any time after lunch. I said I would consult Robin and make arrangements for any of us to ride. Theo said he would leave horseflesh well alone until later. I then told them what Robin had told me about the young lad and his beating from some older boy. I then said the young lad was dark-coloured and his name was Timmy and the older boy was called Black Jack.

"Black fucking Jack!!" George almost shouted, "That's my evil bloody cousin!!"

To be continued: