Tom Browning's Schooldays

Tom Browning's Schooldays

By

Joel

Chapter Seven

George was silent. I lay still. I was gripping the coverlet lest I leapt up and confronted that foul creature.

"I said I would have two sovereigns from you, Cousin George," - the voice had a real sneer to it - "Your father owes my father much for the rumours which spread. Come George, open that purse of yours!"

"I have only a half sovereign and five pence to see me home next week," said George quietly and levelly.

"Hunh! You will not need it as you will be travelling in comfort in your father's third- best coach." The jeering tone sounded again. "Not even his second-best coach for his young pride and joy. But do not quibble, the half sovereign will have to do and I will have to play cards with Jopling again. He is too trusting to see I have them marked." That awful mad laugh again. "But I have new ones and six good dice which will fall as I want and Figgis has a party of gentlemen who wish to play and I need ten pounds to season the pot. Pity that old hag didn't have more."

I couldn't see but heard the jingle of coins in a long purse as Black Jack must have displayed his money and a silent George must have had a questioning look on his face.

"Huhn, that old widow woman who died ten days ago. Who'd have thought she had three good sovereigns and seven shillings under a brick behind her stove but I saw it was loose."

"Old widow Munns who helped Mrs Williams?" George asked quietly.

"That her name? Nothing else worth having and the hovel stank like a pigsty."

"Her young grandson's the only family she has and that house and that money is rightly his," George said almost silently, "And he's away in the Navy."

"Don't be too sorry, he won't miss it and he can earn more baring his arse for his Captain's horny tassel or selling his hole in the taverns in Portsmouth, no doubt."

"You stole that from her house? When?"

How George kept from shouting out I did not know.

Jack snickered. "Two nights after she'd died. Lock was easy. Plenty of flimsy locks around the village here and in that flea-bitten town."

"What do you mean?" asked George.

"What do you think I mean? There wasn't much else to do at that thieves' academy I was sent to before here. I made good pickings round that town and it was only my misfortune I got sent here."

"Your misfortune?"

He sniggered. "First I wheedled my way into my master's good books with my industriousness in my studies, except these were mostly behind the tavern with the local locksmith who had a taste for young seed and taught me much in exchange for my early spurts. I enjoyed that for some six months but he tired of me and needed younger meat, but there were others in the town who paid well to sup. There were more than enough so I found several young ones from the school who needed money and they rewarded me with a portion of their gifts quite willingly, or else! My word, I lived high on all that."

I wondered if my concealment might be ended as he gripped the bed post nearest him. His voice rose and still had that mocking tone.

"I don't boast but I was well-equipped by near sixteen so I had good revenge when my master found I had a good crib for my Caesar and he'd given me several welts daily for that and other things he wrongly accused me of." He laughed again. "So I plugged the cunny of his horse-faced daughter and had his stupid son face down over the bed he wetted every night. She whinnied and he squealed and I do not know which I enjoyed more, her looseness or his tightness. Three times for him and twice for her and they were begging for more but that was not to be. I was caught wearing my master's wife's best ring as I showed my room- mates how I had been exploring young Henrietta's holy place with that same finger. This one, George!"

He must have demonstrated as I heard George hiss with displeasure.

"And that was my misfortune," he continued, "Six more stripes across my arse and packed off to this God-forsaken hole. But I had learned well. I had kept myself well- supplied with money and other things which that jeweller exchanged for paltry sums with no questions asked. And here, the same. It astonishes me how many flimsy locks there are."

Both George and I came to the same conclusion. He asked the question.

"That dark figure? The ghost? You?"

He snickered. "Too true! Who else has frightened the shit out of those poor fools than Black Jack himself. One time I came across some oaf with belly ache in Carstairs's outhouse so as I passed I waved my arms and loosened his bowels all the more. I had a good mind to say boo as well to that silly goose. It would have been good sport if he had fallen down the hole!"

"I heard there was a thief about when I was in Mrs Williams's shop last year. She had accused her son Shem of raiding her purse and he'd been beaten when he said he hadn't," George said.

"True, he hadn't. He didn't even know where she hid the bag. I've had a shilling or two out of that many a time." The snigger again. "My motto is a little at a time. The vicar's wife has mislaid so many brooches and thinks her silly daughters have worn them and lost them and that pair of wizened old virgins in the Old Hall have had three maids dismissed as their strong box keeps being opened. But then that was not so much sport as with the Rector of that other school's village. I found he had a locked cupboard in his study and a collection of small books relating the taking of young girls' virginities and the beating of young boys for playing with their cock-a-doodles. The pictures excited those ruffians who were intent on giving me more of the same I gave young Patrick!"

He must have moved closer to George as his voice had fallen in loudness with that recital.

"I smell brandy on your breath, Jack. Have you been drinking?"

"Why not, it keeps my spirits up," He laughed again. 'Spirits in and spirits up' I thought. "I found a new bottle in Norris's cubby-hole last night. He was as drunk as a fiddler's bitch anyway so will not miss it. And I'll cause him as much trouble as I have that bastard Pullen."

"You threw the ball of horseshit?... ...and the bucket?" George asked sounding quite astounded.

"Who else?" He snorted again. "That gob full of shit was my revenge for the many cuts I've had and I wish I'd brained the bastard fully. His head must be made of teak the way it bounced off. It made him swear though and I warrant some of the Pups learned some new words." There was that terrible snicker again. "But you interrupt my tale, my dear cousin." So all this confession was fuelled by more than a few sips I would say. "I have not told you I was taken more roughly than you were when I had you over that hay-bale in the barn." I heard almost a sob from George and it took all my will not to move. "Two big oafs held me and stripped me in front of my room-mates two nights after I was there. They asked if I knew how a sucking pig felt on the spit as it was turned in front of the fire. 'Pity no fire in here' one said 'but you will be our sucking-pig'. I was. I sucked one and the other had me from the rear. The Rector's books saved me from any more than three repeats of that. I learned fast, but other poor new fools didn't fare so well and kept those churls and their friends well satisfied as they did their rounds each night."

"Why are you telling me all this?" asked George and added even more quietly, "It's enough to get you hanged."

"Because His Blessed Reverence the Honourable George Lascelles would never tell and blab about his cousin." The sneer in the voice was so evident. "A hanging?" He gave a snort. "If I could trust that damned horse I might try being Gentleman Jack. There's rich pickings there. Even without that mangy creature I've had a couple of boxes off the back of a stage when the driver's been dozing. Jump on, cut a couple of cords, tip the stuff out and snaffle a few treats and leave the rest to be discovered the next day. Anything missing then who is there to blame? Not me! Anyway, my birthday was last week and I had no present from you. That half sovereign will suffice." The voice became even more sinister. "Stand and deliver!" The cackle that followed was really evil.

"I've had enough," George said, "Here it is. Take it and go."

"And don't come back, I suppose. Anyway, you can always cadge a few pennies off that bum-boy of yours. He's a healthy looking brute, with a horse pizzle to match his father's trade, no doubt. Perhaps I've got it wrong and he slips a goodly length to you and that other ninny you have in your bed." A coin rattled on the desk. "Bye bye, Georgie, sweet dreams and thank'ee for my birthday present!...."

There was the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps, another mocking laugh and a slam of our door as George must have got up and kicked it shut. Yes, we'd both heard enough to get Black Jack sentenced. He was safe, though, as who would believe two boys and their tales? I felt he would come to a violent end some day but now I had to comfort poor George. He was almost beyond comforting. As I cautiously pulled aside the side hanging I saw he was now sitting at the desk, sobbing openly with his head on his arms. I slid off the bed. Could I give him a brotherly hug or would that be the action of a bum-boy? I took the plunge. I knelt down beside him and put my arms round his shoulders and held him tight. He was breathing in short gasps and mumbling under his breath.

"What am I to do? I cannot tell my Father or my brothers.... He and his Father will ruin our family...."

I hugged him as tightly as I dared and slowly the mumbling stopped. He had been so far gone he only then realised I was there.

"Oh, Tom," he sobbed, "If only I could have spared you that. What am I to do? I hate him from the very depths. He ruined my young life and now he's ruined others and threatens even more."

"George," I whispered, "He's ruining his own life not yours any longer. He drinks and I wager he has other more dangerous things he takes." Lancelot had told me of patients who spent money on so-called 'tonics' but these were often laced with powerful ingredients and caused them to see things or go into a stupor. "We are friends, I hope, and we'll survive the knowledge of his wickedness. You are rid of him for a half sovereign..."

"...Until the next time. He has money off me each term. He has taunted me before but not so foully. That's the first time he's said anything about that other school. I knew he'd done wicked things there to get him expelled but all that master knows is the stealing."

"But he also suffered as well," I said, "He was a..." I hesitated. "...a stuffed pig."

This made George cheer up a bit and I laughed inwardly at the imagery. But George had also suffered at his hands, or his prick. George relapsed into melancholy and gave a despairing sigh.

"I could not tell anyone, but that fiend said he would examine me after I complained I had a splinter in my backside. Next thing I knew was what I thought was a probing finger, but no, he had his stiff little pizzle at my hole. He had moistened me and then thrust. I couldn't scream as he had a hand over my mouth. I bit him which made him angry and I was fucked hard and he tore me. He swore if I told anyone he would geld me like the young foals. I burnt my blood-stained underclothes and could not shit for three days. It was just before that poor young groom was made to suck him. I had refused and he did not dare to try force on me again. I was so glad when he left and my heart sank when he came here. Am I ever to be free of him?"

"He'll have to leave this school soon," I said, "He's in his last year. He's eighteen now."

George nodded. "We must just ignore him I suppose. He'll no doubt cause havoc wherever he goes. At least I'm free of him in class." He sighed. "I hope I can gain Mr Prior's confidence."

I picked up the sheets of paper he'd been writing on - luckily not tear-stained. I looked at the book of exercises and saw he was doing well. I could spot no errors in his calculations.

"I have some lines to construe for tomorrow but they are not difficult," I said. I was in charge now. "You light a fire and a good pot of tea should make us more cheerful. I'll run to Mr Williams and get some of that good thick cake he makes. Enough for Theo when he comes, too." I grabbed my jacket with my purse and scurried off.

All was ready when I returned and two happier boys had a doorstep of plum cake and a beaker of hot tea and had a laugh over my description of the kidnaps in Scott's Guy Mannering which I had started to read two days before. I read out 'Gin by pailfuls, wine in rivers, Dash the window-glass to shivers! For three wild lads were we, brave boys, And three wild lads were we...'. I stopped there as my eye caught the last line. 'Thou on the land, and I on the sand, And Jack on the gallows-tree!'. I showed George and he shook his head.

"An omen?"

But we had just about regained our usual good spirits when Theo appeared. He'd spent the time playing chess with Simpson and was moaning as he had lost two games. He cheered up, too, with plum cake and tea. George then told him a bit about Jack's visit without too much detail, though he did say about the confession of the two attacks on Pullen. Theo whistled at that. I said he had come to cadge money and Theo said he always did. He asked George how much he had left. George took out his purse and emptied it. It was true. Five pennies. That was all.

"George," I said, "I have some hidden away. Take it, please, as you have nothing. Rowley will be here with enough for the beds at the inns on the way home." I took out my purse and found the hidden pocket where I kept a half-guinea Aunt Fanny Wright had given me last Christmas when she became tearful as Nicholas, her son, was far away in New York. "Please, George, I want you to have it."

George was sobbing again and Theo had to comfort him as much more of the tale of his torment by Black Jack came flooding out. Poor Theo was almost weeping, too. More tea was brewed and George's new 'foine pair a bellas' were put to good use. George refused to take the money and said he would write an urgent note to his father which should reach him before the coachman set out to fetch him home. His excuse would be he had entertained too lavishly which might be expected of a Lord's youngest and dearest son. He scribbled a note then rushed out as he knew the North-bound stage would be passing through at eight in the evening and the driver would be willing to accept a letter to be passed on for sixpence if left with Mrs Williams. The coach always stopped there to take on extra sustenance for the driver and passengers. He did take the sixpence Theo offered him.

George rushed off to make his delivery and Theo eyed me as soon as the door was closed. "And what else have you to tell me?" he asked, "I am sure that was not all that was said."

I was flummoxed. Theo and George were such good friends but I could not break the confidence that George had placed in me. "Believe me, Theo," I said and shook my head, "I cannot say more. But George in all good time will tell you I am sure."

He smiled. "You are also a true friend. I would not press you and I know you have George's best interests at heart. He would not accept your money because he values you as a friend. You, the riding and now Robin have made him more cheerful this term than he could ever have been given the ill fortune he had with that master last year and that dreadful Remove he had to endure."

George returned and was happier. He said he'd heard there was to be a great Sing- Song again in Big School on Saturday evening and I'd better practice my flute as Gordon had volunteered to do a Scotch sword-dance and would want some jaunty tunes. "His father is Laird of Donkeybrae or some such heathen name and has so much land it makes my Father's acres look like a garden patch. He has invited Maitland and me to go shooting deer but it's a wild place to get to, but he said I wouldn't have to wear that Scotch dress though his father does to keep the Highlanders happy."

I said he should finish reading Rob Roy to get an idea of Scottish ways and my brothers always said the Scotch soldiers were counted the most fearsome against any enemy.

The rest of the week went quietly enough. George was commended by Mr Prior in that he had done ten more calculations than set and had got all correct. The five of us had a ride out on Wednesday afternoon but poor Newton was very tired when we returned and needed a draught of Mr Darlow's best tonic. I think there must have been a strong barley wine in it as Newton was soon lying down in his stall with Timmy whispering in his ear. Both Tarquin and Perseus had nuzzled the old horse when he had returned. Mr Darlow shook his head but said nothing as we took leave of him.

Mr Ridley's class on Friday made us all think. He had asked us to read copies of an unsigned pamphlet which told of the continued slavery in America. We had known of the slavery of ancient Rome and of Greece and that vassals were really slaves to their masters in this country in the past. We knew about the slave-trade and that vast amounts of money had been both by the export of slaves from Africa to the Americas and the wealth of the plantations they worked on. Even George had said his family had had sugar plantations in Jamaica and, of course, young Timmy was a descendant of a slave. Winstanley pointed out that Britain had passed the final Anti-Slavery Act only in 1838, just five years ago. Preston asked if slaves knew that they were in captivity as it were. Winstanley got quite heated and said he had read of the beatings and chaining of slaves in America and Farquar said that had happened even nearer at home in the mines in Scotland where boys were forced to work for up to seven years and if they tried to escape were fitted with an iron collar.

The question of the very poor in England came up as Dennison said that with the bad harvests of two years ago the workhouse in his father's village was overcrowded and it was costing the parish much to keep the relief even at a minimum. What I then discovered was that Dennison's family owned the whole village and much of the surrounding countryside. Even Squire Matthews wasn't as rich as that though he said he could hunt three days a week in different directions without leaving his own land! Baring said much of the problem was that people were leaving the villages to move into towns where there were the new manufactories and so it was generally the very poor who got left behind. Mr Ridley said we should find out more ourselves and also start to think of what the growth of the railways might bring as well. Would they take over from the canals and the roads and would we all end up with a railway track up to our own town or village? I would have to ask Uncle Wright about that as I already knew he had an interest in railway building.

On Saturday there was to be a great football tournament between Parker's and Carstairs's. George was annoyed as he said Ridley's had been cheated in the last match with Parker's as more players were let on when anyone said they were tired or hurt. I said he could borrow Silver again for a ride and that shut him up. Just Robin, me and him went riding together although other lads had their horses out as well. Newton wasn't breathing very well so Timmy said he would stay and play cards with Shem and two of the other grooms. I gave him three pence because I knew the other lads liked to make a wager and Shem would not allow cheating.

It was quite chilly and the wind was blowy but we had a good race over the big field and were quite red-faced and wind-swept when we returned. Timmy was full of joy. He had his three pence which he tried to give back to me as well as two pence more. I said he should go and spend some at Mrs Trotter's sweet shop. I thought of what we had heard yesterday with Mr Ridley and wondered how someone as kind and gentle as Timmy could have descended from a slave and what would have happened if that grandfather hadn't been granted his freedom.

As we neared Ridley's House we saw Theo talking with that fop Jopling. I had avoided him since that meeting with him and Jack after Chapel. It wasn't hard as both he and Jack and others in Pratt's seemed to manage to keep away from most daily services other than the really compulsory ones on Sundays.

"Have you seen Jack?" Theo asked as we got up to the pair.

"He didn't come back to our room last night and he hasn't been for luncheon today," Jopling added and looked quite worried.

I didn't like to say he was probably out robbing old ladies or frightening young lads in privies. I remembered then he'd said he was going to the Bell last night with his cards and dice but the look on George's face stopped me blurting that out.

"Why worry, Jopling?" George said, "A bad penny always turns up."

He said no more and Jopling turned on his elegant heel and stalked off.

"Probably spending his ill-gotten gains on some whore in Mayfield," said George, "And I hope he catches the pox!"

Theo was carrying a paper bag and had treated us to currant buns from Mr Williams's bakery. He said that Japhet would be bringing plenty of sausages for tomorrow night's feast to celebrate the ending of term. So tea and buns warmed us up ready for the proper evening meal and then the Sing-Song.

I went along to see Gordon who said he would have to do his dance over two long staves as no swords were available. I said I'd seen a pair crossed on a wall in Mr Dimbleby's parlour. He was off and came back with two officer's swords in scabbards which he said would be perfect. I played him a Scotch reel I had learned from Mr Venables. He snapped his fingers and showed me how I should get a good rhythm going. He said Jameson the accordion player also knew the tune. He whispered he would be in his Highland dress as well.

There was subdued excitement during the evening meal and Theo told George he was to have only one beaker of small beer if he was going to open the singing. There was plenty of sweet cordial and he made good with that as I think the bellyache he had before was a lesson. However, we did toast each other and our neighbours on our table.

So to Big School which looked quite festive with plenty of candles and a hot posset instead of the usual cold cordial and, as a special treat, some of the older Whelps were there looking around quite transfixed. Winstanley banged his tankard and said it had been a good term and we should be proud to be at such a good school. This was the signal for George who stood with Jameson beside him and opened the proceedings with 'Come all ye jolly sailor boys' as he had done on the occasion of the first Sing-Song. It was non-stop after that and great fun especially when four of the Whelps, whose voices were still clear and treble, sang and acted 'Sweet Polly Oliver' with one as Polly, another as the Sergeant, the third as the Doctor and the fourth as the Captain who laid down across a table at first and was brought back to life.

Of course, the highlight of the evening occurred when Collett came in carrying the two swords in their scabbards and ceremoniously unsheathed them and laid them crosswise on the floor. A great cheer went up when Gordon then appeared swathed in a long black cloak with a Scotch bonnet on his head surmounted by a long pheasant's feather. With a flourish he cast the cloak away and the cheer then was even greater as he stood arrayed in kilt and doublet with a silver trimmed sporran. I was ready with my flute and Jameson played a chord, then we were off. Gordon was a superb dancer and his feet seemed to dart here and there never touching the crossed swords but making patterns between them and over them. There were hoots and whistles as we finished that tune and to shouts of 'More!' we set off with the second Scotch tune I knew. All the school were clapping along as we got near the end and the cheer was enough to raise the rafters as Gordon bowed and we two were made to bow as well. I got a cheer, too, when I played the Hornpipe, again with all clapping along and then Gordon was persuaded to do his first dance again. I think the windows shook with the mighty roar at the end. We did have two quieter moments. Simpson sang more of Mr Purcell's, this time 'Fairest Isle' which was another of my mother's favourites. George made a great play of singing the shanty 'Tom Bowling' and made everyone giggle with his pathos on verse ends such as 'And now he's gone aloft'. He made our table giggle even more when he said he thought of changing it to 'Tom Browning' but I certainly wasn't gone!

A very happy crowd left Big School with 'Merry Christmas' on everybody's lips as we dispersed to our separate Houses. As we neared Ridley's a strange procession came from the direction of the stables. Shem, Jack the farrier's lad and two of the older grooms were being led by Mr Darlow and Robin holding up lanterns as they carried something with a bit of old sacking over its middle on a rough hurdle. As they passed us I could see it was a naked body. Theo stepped forward for a closer look and held his nose. Just then something dropped onto the cobbles with a slight 'clink'. As the procession went on in silence Theo kicked the object and then bent down but didn't pick it up.

"It looks like a die," he said and gripped his nose again, "But I'm not picking it up. It's got shit on it."

George was a little braver. He kicked it onto the grass verge and rubbed the object in the grass with his foot. I was carrying a bulls-eye lantern as my task to see us home. I held it down and George picked up a shiny metal die. "I wager it's one of Jack's six," he whispered. Others crowded around to see but George said it was nothing important. Just then a tall figure came rushing along the same path and diverted attention. It was Dr Robert Dimbleby also carrying a lantern and with two bags awkwardly held by their handles in the other hand. He must have spied me as I had lifted up my lamp when I heard his rapid footsteps.

"Ah, Tom Browning, come with me, please, I may need your help," he said, "Please take one of my bags." I was whisked away having only time to hand my flute case to a bemused Theo.

I was more than curious. "Is it someone dead?" I asked rather querulously as I scurried along by his side.

"I hope not, but he was lucky," was the only reply.

The procession made its way towards Pratt's but followed a side path as they got near which led to a small barn at the back. I knew then that the recumbent figure must be Black Jack. But what had happened to him? The rising smell was indescribable. It was the smell of an overripe midden as my Father was wont to say. A midden topped up with more and more straw and horseshit and buckets of horse piss and left to rot to make a good mixture for spreading on the fields. I thought the only worse smell was the slurry in pits from the cows on Biddles' farm in the next village to ours.

I held my lamp up as Dr Dimbleby was directing the lads to put the hurdle down carefully and to make a platform with some of the straw bales. I don't know how they went near but they must have been used to the stink of the stables on a hot day but this was winter! The low platform was ready and the hurdle was placed on it. Jack had not stirred.

Dr Dimbleby beckoned Mr Darlow. "I think you ought to go and get Mr Pratt and see if there is any warm water. Not hot, not cold, just warm."

Even he stood back and just looked. "Young Tom," he said at last, "I think you will be useful just to hold any instruments I may need. I can't tell what they've done to him until he's been cleaned but I did note he's been tied up in a rather delicate place. The lads told me when they found him he was almost sinking in the old midden they haven't used for a couple of months. They heard moans and then he fainted. That midden was the saving of him. Know why?"

If he'd been there last night and all day I could guess. It had been very cold last night. There was frost on the ground this morning and the football game would have been called off if the frost hadn't gone. The day had been bright but quite cold. I knew this from my wind- burnt cheeks and I had worn a thick wool shirt as well as my linen one under my leather jerkin for the ride.

"Middens, when they are left to rot, ferment and get hot, Sir," I said, "If he had been naked in a field he would have frozen last night."

"Good," he said. "And what do you make of him having what looked like a pack of cards torn up and scattered over him?"

I heard Shem and the farrier's lad snigger. Robin stepped forward holding up two fragments of card luckily not stained.

"Sir," he said, "These are marked cards. See, the back of this one has the line there not quite the same as the one on the other piece."

"Ah, Robin, it is you. I thought it was," Dr Dimbleby said as he took the pieces and looked at them closely under the light of Robin's lantern. "You must have very sharp eyes to spot that."

"I guessed they were marked. My father showed me cards like this he'd taken from a sharper in an inn where he'd been working. He said the sharper needed a surgeon's help after the inn-keeper's sons had dealt with him. And that story taught me not to play at cards in taverns."

Dr Dimbleby smiled and the other lads laughed.

"I hope they hurry up as I need to know if this dear soul needs my surgical skill."

With that there were hurrying footsteps and muttering as a very elegant gentleman rushed into the barn. This must be Mr Pratt, dressed for dinner, white tie, tail coat, black silk knee britches and white stockings. I had not seen him before and I wondered what he would make of the scene.

"What is all this!" he started then stood back and also held his nose. "You're Dimbleby's son, aren't you?"

Dr Dimbleby gave a little bow. "That is correct, Sir, I am Dr Dimbleby but more importantly...," Here he pointed at the supine body on the hurdle. "...I think this is one of your pupils, most probably Master Jack Lascelles and most probably under the influence of strong spirits, ale and a dose or two of laudanum or worse. I need to have him cleaned so I can examine him further. I need warm water, washcloths, towels and about four willing helpers from amongst your staff."

Mr Pratt, I must say, was quite superb. He sent Shem to get his butler to organise four of the footmen and scullions. The footmen were told to change from their livery and to bring all the items needed.

Before turning on his heel he said quite clearly, "This is the last of that young man's escapades. He was expelled before, he's expelled again!"

As he marched out even Black Jack had a reply to that. He groaned and let free a great fart and there was another 'clink' from the ground beneath the hurdle. I think we all laughed.

Dr Dimbleby took my lamp and bent down and with a twig lying on the ground dragged out another shit-encrusted object. He used the twig to brush it. "Ah-ha," he said, "Very interesting." I had overcome the feeling I had about the stench and had bent down to look. It was a second die.

"We found another like that when he was carried past us out there," I said, "His cousin George has it."

Dr Dimbleby laughed quietly. "You know where it's been?"

I guessed! "I think there may be more," I said. Oh dear! Perhaps I was letting too much knowledge out.

"Don't worry," Dr Dimbleby said, "I've seen it all before!"

Oh! I couldn't speculate more as the footmen and scullions returned with buckets and cloths.

"I'll arrange that you'll be well rewarded for cleaning him. Plenty of water first and then wipe. But if Master Browning and I are to deal with him closer we need these." He opened one of the bags he had brought with him and took out two cotton smocks. "Here, my lad, we don't want our good clothes dirtied."

Mine was a bit large and loose but if I had to help close up it would be best. I then held up my lamp again. Black Jack was lying on his side so with a heave Jack the farrier and Shem turned him on his front and took away the sacking which had covered him. As the water cascaded over his back we could see he'd been well-beaten on his back and buttocks. The skin was not broken but over a dozen red weals laced down him. "We'll deal with those later," the Doctor said. "His legs and arms next. I need to see if anything is broken." The fingers on both hands were very bruised. "He's been stamped on I would say," he said, "Show the lamp here, please, young Tom."

On one of the fingers was a strange ring. It was a coarse metal and had an engraved death's head on it. The farrier's lad gasped. "He'll be dead if he meets those fellows again. My father told me he was on a jury once for some stranger who was found dead in a ditch wearing one of those. He'd been cheating and they were told it was a sign." Even that strapping young man stepped back and shook his head. "He's marked," he said.

He had to come back though once Black Jack was cleaner on his back. The pair turned him over and he began to groan and as he was placed on his back there was another fart and two more clinks. We all knew where the dice had been. More water was sloshed over him but his face was cleaned more gently even though his hair was quite matted with straw and shit and needed several bowlfuls to shift it.

"What's this?" Dr Dimbleby said as the cleaning got down below his belly. "I thought he'd been tied up as well." He did a strange thing. He tapped Black Jack's belly and I saw it was quite distended. "My G_d!" he swore, "We had better be quick if I think that's what they've done."

He reached into the other bag and took out a box. He handed it to Robin to hold as he opened it. There were a number of rather gruesome looking surgical instruments like the ones Cousin Lancelot had shown me. He selected a very sharp looking knife and as I shone the light down he lifted Black Jack's cock. But it wasn't just his cock. It was encased in what must be Black Jack's long purse and the leather laces at the top were tied very tightly round the root of his prick.

Dr Dimbleby gave a snort. "Our nasty friends must be good scholars as they have copied a punishment meted out to Roman soldiers found drunk on duty." He tapped Black Jack's belly again, this time with the handle of the knife which Lancelot had told me was called a scalpel. I heard the four of Mr Pratt's servants shuffle forward to look and Mr Darlow and our group did the same. Dr Dimbleby tapped again. "You see, the punishment was more of the same. The soldier was drunk so he was stripped and made to stand with his hands tied and held up by a rope flung over a branch as it was needed to be done in the open air as you will witness." He tapped again. "Then one of his bootlaces would be looped and slipped over you-know-what to the base and drawn tight." I heard one of the scullions give a little gasp. "He would then have wineskin after wineskin of the most rotten wine poured down his throat until his belly could hold no more. Think what happens after a few hours when more would be poured down. He would be drunk, his bladder full to bursting and unable to piss." He waved the scalpel from side to side and it glinted in the lamp light. "If he had offended before, then a quick slash with a dagger up his belly would suffice."

We all gasped then as Dr Dimbleby drew the scalpel up Black Jack's belly as he spoke. Mercifully just with the handle. One of the scullions cried out and slumped and was caught by his fellows.

"Sorry, my dear fellow, I must not get carried away." He laughed. "But if it was his first time then the dagger would be used to cut the knot." He lifted the purse and it's contents. "I would stand well back as I think we may see a fountain," he said as he carefully sliced through the leather thong and quickly pulled the purse away. He was right. Black Jack groaned and his stubby prick lengthened slightly and stood proud and a stream of piss fountained up and fell back over him and the hurdle. More evil smell. All the lads burst out laughing as the display continued and I was reminded of what Uncle Dodd had said about the dangers of baptising unclothed boy babies. He said that after the first had let fly he asked for them at least to be covered down there. Uncle Dodd was good for all sorts of stories he said we should not tell we had heard. But Robin was more than ready.

"'And from the chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, as if this earth in thick fast pants were breathing, a mighty fountain was momently forced!" he recited to more guffaws.

"More water," instructed Dr Dimbleby after his own laughter had subsided, "That was quite an exhibition was it not?"

He then decided he would examine Black Jack further in the morning as he was beginning to groan and he said he would probably revive by then. It was then Mr Pratt returned with a colourful dressing-gown covering his suit and a red velvet turban on his head. He handed out coins to all and I was rewarded with a whole crown. He and Dr Dimbleby had a quiet discussion and Black Jack was carried off to some scullery where he would be bedded for the night.

Mr Darlow and the lads went off jingling their coins, saying they would certainly not be visiting the Bell in future, and I walked with Dr Dimbleby back to Ridley's House. He congratulated me on my stoicism and said Robin had impressed him, too. He took up his bags and borrowed my lantern as his candle had burned out and marched off whistling. Of course, George and Theo were waiting impatiently with about six others for news. We heard the midnight chimes before we fell into our beds quite exhausted. Even George was too tired for his nightly exercise. "I am free of that unholy wretch at last!" were his last words I heard before I fell asleep. I just wondered if we all were?

There were whispers and rumours as we had breakfast and there were more questioning looks from all sides as I took my place in Chapel. As I came out Jopling and his friend were waiting. He looked quite concerned. "Is Jack alive?" was his startling question, "We have not been told anything."

I said he was alive when I had last seen him and Dr Dimbleby would be examining him this morning. He looked quite relieved but then he turned to his friend. "I will have that twenty-five pounds off him then whatever his excuse this time. His father will have to pay, my father will make sure of that."

He didn't acknowledge I was still standing at the bottom of the Chapel steps but turned and walked off. "He's just as much a villain as Jack is," said Theo at my elbow.

George was much happier now with that burden lifted but what pleased him and us even more was a note delivered by Ham when we returned from lunch. It was from Mrs Ridley. 'Tea at four' was all it said above her very neat signature. We spent the afternoon packing our chests ready for them to be taken down, for the carrier in my case, or to be loaded onto George's father's coach and onto Theo's father's chaise, if it arrived!

The parrot was ready for us as we were shown into Mrs Ridley's parlour. 'Three cheers! Bare their arses!' was it's greeting. Mrs Ridley ignored it and said 'Sit down, boys, Mr Pitt seems to have learned a new phrase or two and I'm not sure who is teaching him." The slight smirk on Barney's face as he handed round plates gave some indication of a possible tutor.

I thought Mrs Ridley would want details of yesterday's happenings but she had letters for each of us to take home to our mothers. "I must correspond more with your Mother," she said as she handed me a bulky package. "I have looked at our pedigree and I see we have a common Crossley ancestor. He was a gentleman farmer but it his sister who is in George's family." She handed George a packet and looked from him to me. "I must say, though, you do not look alike, not like that sweet boy who will be with us next term." She pointed to the packet I was holding. "There is a note in yours for his mother as well." She turned to Theo and held up another letter. "Your Mother is instructed to keep the Bishop on the right path. I do not want him to waver over the Scholarship. I hear other Governors are in agreement with me..." She stopped. "...I mean with Mr Ridley." Uncle Dodd was fond of saying about certain wives in the County that they were the 'Power behind the Throne' and here it was being demonstrated. He would be amused.

We tucked our missives away and smiled at each other as we ate steadily through the 'Cook's specials'. There was chat then and Mrs Ridley played on her new forte-piano while George sang 'Under the Greenwood Tree' and 'Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes' and finished with 'Tom Bowling' except this time he did sing 'Tom Browning' and changed the words so I wasn't dead in the end! We clapped and Theo said George would be in the Opera House some day.

That evening we had a good feast of hot sausages, slices of ham, with bread and a pickle George had wheedled from Mrs Partridge our doughty cook. By the end there were at least ten of us spread around our small room and the noise got even more when Gordon opened a flask of good Scotch whisky which he had been hoarding. I had two sips and my throat was on fire until Theo added some clear water to my beaker. We toasted the School, the Queen, our families and all of us. School would finish for the holidays tomorrow and we would be off home on Tuesday. "That is," said Theo once again, "If my father remembers to send the chaise!" I was glad that Black Jack wasn't even mentioned.

Next morning after the usual break Mr Martin was telling us what he expected us to read during our holiday when Mr Ridley rapped on the door and came in. We all stood as he entered and he waved us to sit down. He said he'd come to congratulate us all on the progress we'd made and gave each of us a packet to give our parents with a report of our endeavours in it. He then said we could be dismissed for the rest of the day but not to be idle!

I needed to go to the stables to check that Blaze was ready for the morning and that Robin had packed his saddle-bags and that Mr Darlow had the bills for care of our mounts ready to take home. I knew they were ready as Robin had been quite industrious and had prepared them all ready for Mr Darlow's signature. Robin was standing by Newton and stroking the poor old horse's muzzle as young Timmy stood by him with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Mr Darlow does not think Newton will last much longer and Timmy is sad I am going away as well." He bent down to the lad's height. "I'll be back, I promise, be brave." He stroked his head and the young lad did smile then.

It was then that things began to happen. A closed black carriage was driven into the stable yard by someone in a black greatcoat and tricorn hat with a black cockade. Two large men leapt off the back and stood by the closed door and we crowded nearer the stable door as a sad procession came into the yard. Two of Mr Pratt's footmen, in plain suits, held a struggling, swearing Black Jack who seemed still to be more than a little drunk. No longer was he Black Jack as he was dressed in a plain brown fustian suit. It was certainly not made for him as it was at least two sizes too large. His hands were bandaged and one foot dragged as he walked. Jack the farrier's lad followed shouldering Jack's chest and two more footmen were carrying smaller cases. These were all tied on the back of the carriage while Jack was held tightly. As he was man-handled towards the coach he saw us looking. He spat, then let loose a stream of oaths and told us exactly what he thought of the school and all in it. He must have spotted me. The shouts increased.

"Where's my fucking cousin, you miserable cunt? I'll have his fucking guts one day! He must have fucking peached on me! He'll be shitting out of his bloody ears when I get him!" There was a loud neighing from the stable. Tarquin had heard the hateful voice and was pawing at the ground and giving vent to his feelings. "That damned horse can go to the knacker's yard for all I care. I have no more use for it. Let me go and I'll slit it's bloody throat! I still have it's mark on my arse!" By this time young Timmy had his arms round Robin and Robin was holding the boy to him. "And as for that damned black runt he can go to the Devil tied to that horse and good riddance!" That was quite the wrong thing to say. Jack the farrier's lad stepped up behind him and must have delivered a straight blow to his evil name-sake's kidneys. Jack vomited, splashing the ground and then farted. He was bundled into the carriage by the two men and I saw the inside was plain leather and full of sacking. Jack's own guts were on fire but at least he wouldn't be shitting out of his ears.

The door was slammed shut and locked. A thought struck me. The last time I'd seen a carriage like that it had come through the village and I was told it was being driven to the madhouse. The two large men climbed on the back, the driver cracked his whip, the two horses took the strain and Jack was gone.

Another group entered the stable yard. It was Mr Pratt with both Mr Dimbleby and Dr Dimbleby. Mr Pratt was now arrayed in day clothes and was wearing a shiny top hat with a long black cloak over his shoulders. They stood and surveyed our group. Mr Pratt spoke first.

"I think we may say the School has seen the last of that scoundrel. I apologise for the language and the sentiments expressed. My House has had the displeasure of his company for far too long and it has been only his father's earnest entreaties which have kept him here. We return him in that deranged state you have unfortunately witnessed to the tender care of his family in London. He may quieten down somewhat after four days or so in that confined space. For the present Mr Dimbleby has plans and I bid you good-day." He touched his hat and turned on his heel. Mr Dimbleby looked at his son and the look told all. Father's 'earnest entreaties' equals 'father's money'!

"Let us go inside out of the chill," Mr Dimbleby said as Mr Pratt disappeared, "We must discuss several things." We were quite subdued as we filed back into the stable. What was interesting was that Timmy let go of Robin and went straight to Tarquin's stall where the horse was still restless. As Mr Dimbleby began to speak again I realised that Tarquin had quietened down and was neighing very quietly with Timmy beside him.

"I think several of you were involved in those happenings last night. They must be forgotten, but, to stem any rumours, Jack Lascelles was caught cheating both at cards and dice and was dealt with by persons unknown. Mr Figgis has been warned that the magistrates will be informed of illegal gaming and any further trouble will have consequences." He surveyed us and there were nods from the stable lads. They had been warned, too. "My son wishes to compliment you all on the work you did last night and I know you have received some recompense which should make amends for the unwarranted duties you had to perform and should help you forget such things." More nods. The coins would keep mouths closed. "Now, we all heard his final words." He walked over to Tarquin's stall. "My boy, that horse will be yours. I will arrange for it's upkeep but you can claim ownership. There will be no knacker's yard. I will write a letter which you must keep safe." Timmy looked open- mouthed at Mr Dimbleby then reached up and flung his arms round Tarquin's neck. The horse immediately knelt and neighed and rubbed his head against Timmy. "I think we know true ownership," Mr Dimbleby said quietly.

He walked over to his son. "But we must help the boy as well."

Jack the farrier's lad stepped forward. "Sir, he can come with me to my mother's. He will be cared for faithfully."

That seemed to be the end but I thought I might have a quiet word with Mr Dimbleby. I followed the pair as they left the stable giving Robin a signal I would talk to him later.

"Sir," I said as I caught up with them, "May I suggest something else."

Mr Dimbleby smiled. "Young Tom, I would listen to you any time. Robert tells me you were a great assistant last night. I hope you slept well after the excitement."

His son gave a laugh and put his hand in his pocket. "I think you and that wretch's cousin should have these. I found the rest this morning." He winked. "I must not say where they were but they were not placed there for his comfort and they have been cleaned." Four dice were placed in my cupped hands. "I have kept one for my cabinet of curiosities."

We all chuckled and I placed the relics of that night in my jacket pocket.

"What is your plan?" Mr Dimbleby asked.

"Sir, I don't think young Timmy is really a stable-lad. He was a gardener's boy before he came here. I know my Father needs more help, that is, my Mother has plans for her walled garden and the glasshouses and Mr Bottom our head gardener is always pressed for good help. If Timmy comes home with us tomorrow we can see if he is suited. He does have a mount now and my Father will see the horse is well-maintained. I'll ask George Lascelles his opinion as the lad was there before." I knew George would agree with me in case Timmy was wheedled away again.

"You have a good head and heart," Mr Dimbleby said, "Please discuss it with George Lascelles as I seem to have oversight over the boy and the horse at the moment!" He laughed. "A good solution and one I can agree with, too."

He shook hands with me as did his son who said he would see me, no doubt, in the future.

George was annoyed he hadn't seen his cousin being despatched so decisively. "Serve the evil bastard right," he said, "I hope his guts are on fire, too."

I then produced the four dice. "These were kept in a safe place until your cousin could hold onto them no more. Dr Dimbleby has one and I would like to keep one, too."

He contemplated the three in his hand and then took up the fourth from the desk. "Rammed up his arse were they? If I'd had a hand in that they would have been pushed in deep with the help of the thickest shovel handle I could find!"

"They probably were," I said, "Shem said there was a shovel lying across his chest when they found him."

George agreed with my scheme wholeheartedly and said he would get his Father to provide some upkeep, or, at least his Mother would arrange it. I took him to the stables to see if Timmy was also happy with coming home with me. Robin said he was sure Mr and Mrs Bottom would take him in. With Jabez in London and their elder son Caleb in Torquil's troop the house was empty and Robin was certain Mrs Bottom would take the gentle lad to her heart. I think what helped was that Timmy would be riding his own horse all that way. Jack the farrier's lad said the lad would always be welcome if he did come back. Robin said he was sure his young brothers would make friends with Timmy so all was arranged.

On Tuesday we waited impatiently after breakfast as carriages arrived to take sons home to parents. Other lads went to the village to await the various stage coaches while some were excited that part of their later journey would be by railway. George was relieved when his father's second-best coach arrived, even more so when the coachman handed him a purse. Theo said he'd gone up one notch in coaches but it had to be a bigger coach as he had promised to take Gordon and Farquar the two Scotch lads to Westmoreland with him, plus a couple of the Whelps to Lancaster, with all their assorted baggage. The Scotch pair would then try for stages to the wind-swept and snowy wilderness known as Scotland as George had said before being wrestled to the floor of our room and given a good Scotch tickling.

Rowley appeared just as the School clock struck eleven. We plied him with bread, cheese and a flask of good ale and explained about Timmy. "You won't do better, lad," was his verdict and Timmy smiled shyly at him. We set off before noon just as a chaise appeared and Theo gave us a happy wave. We rode steadily taking turns asking questions to find out what had happened in our absence. The news about Robin had been received and there had been general rejoicing according to Rowley. "I'll have to bow and scrape to you now, no doubt," he said and as we dismounted at the first night's inn he gave Robin a big hug and then a good swipe to his backside. "More of both where they came from," he said as Robin hugged him in return. There was plenty of other gossip as Mrs Rogers was 'fat as a sow ready to farrow' and Bessie Phillips would be soon according to Rowley. Rowley said Rogers was certain he'd managed to climb on top but the general opinion was it was the work of a certain visitor who had been seen skulking around their backyard. Robin couldn't contain himself. He just said 'Lemuel' and Rowley wanted to know how he knew. Our story came out and Rowley said we'd better watch our tongues because Rogers could be violent.

Poor Bessie was saying she didn't know what had happened but a Devil had appeared to her in the barn and told her he had a magic pitchfork which would help her turn the straw as he stood behind her. She was found headfirst in the straw with her skirts over her head and the pitchfork handle up her 'thing' babbling that the Devil had deceived her as he had pushed her over and had acted the dog on her and the straw wasn't turned. Of course, we accused Rowley of being the Devil but he said he wasn't even in the village when it happened as he was escorting us ruffians to that school but her father had a list of possible culprits and was waiting to see who the child resembled, shotgun in hand!

Rowley and Timmy shared a bed that night and Timmy was no longer shy when they rode side by side next day and chatted. Rowley was grinning broadly when we stopped to have a mid-morning piss and a bite to eat. "Never seen a black pizzle before," he commented with a wink, "And Jabez'll be jealous I guarantee when that lad's older!"

To be continued: