The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B (5 page)

"Hmmmm. I see. Well. One hesitates to think what you will do should you ever get the title. Being that we have it already that you are an inveterate masturbator. And do tell us, the entry is missing for last week. How many times."

"Twenty one. Twenty three if we include up to lunch time today. Sir.' "Are you treating it as some distinction, flaunting it at us. A low habit that saps the energy of life, the spirit of the soul.' "Sir last year my average was only eighteen a week.' "I suppose we enter that little score as mitigation."

"Sir in the military manual it provides that troops must masturbate to prevent undue familiarity developing."

"Who the bloody hell has filled you with all this nonsense. I've served eleven years in the Thirty Fourth Poona Horse.

That's simply not on. You are grossly impertinent."

"My tutor sir, told me so. He served in the Indore Mounted Escort, sir."

"And what else did he tell you. That gross indecency was the order of the day. He's bogus, tell him that for me, your tutor indeed. Impertinent, I think evil is the word for you. Forgive my shouting Mr. Crunch, one doesn't take slander of one's regiment lightly."

"Do you think we should adjourn for tea Mr. Slouch."

"I'm not quite finished yet with these two."

"Sir I may not be the most splendid person in the kingdom. But I am not evil. Nor am I impertinent. My granny's butler Swithins said that a bit of irreverent cheekiness was becoming in boys under ten sir, whereas the same behaviour might be perfectly insulting in one older. I have some fine qualities sir. Which you may not recognise as worthy. But I shall grow up and serve England and do my duty to the best of my abilities sir. I have the finest voice in the school choir. My ancestors have hewn and used the adze. And one day sir, when I am of age and come into my fortune I will buy up this whole area and blow up this school with dynamite."

"Pretty speech. Quite nervy. Very nervy."

"Into smithereens, sir."

"Smithereens. Well you might use such an Irish word. Typical of idle talk. You bumptious little boy. You don't dare stand there thinking for a second that you intimidate myself and Mr. Crunch who, if my memory serves me, has ridden 46 horse, Third Dragoon Guards. Eh Mr. Crunch. Blow us all up. Bit of military megalomania. Only thing can be said in your favour is you possess such a blatant disregard for caution in your remarks that you give amusement. You little rascal. Who put the eels down the bath drains. And let loose the toads in the faculty room. As per your diary, you threatening little rogue. Well we've got it all down here. A nice little interrogatory. And you French boy. Fifty seven. What have you got to say for yourself.'

"I am Beefy's friend.'

"Are you indeed. And you want to be sent down with him I suppose.'

"And what do we know about you. An orphan too, perhaps."

"I do not have a father, sir."

"No father. Strange. How did you get here."

"I am here sir."

"With no father. Slow of mind. You don't follow me. And I'm not about to argue concerning your immaculate conception, dear boy."

"Mr. Slouch, should we not adjourn. It's time for the boys' tea."

"Indeed. A little solitary on bread and water would seem more appropriate. But I think we can wind this up. Yes. Sixty four, you're down for eighteen strokes of the cane. A further six of the very best to be added to the original twelve for threatening to blow us to smithereens. And don't think sixty four you'll be sent down before this justice is administered. Six strokes every other day, with a day's reflection between. That'll keep your bottom busy. And fifty seven pray tell what's your past."

"I am a Catholic sir."

"Good God, that bunch. Romish doctrine. Purgatory, pardons, reliques. Surely you realize it's not grounded upon any warranty in scripture. Whole thing is repugnant to the word of God. There is no popery here. Although we shall respect your beliefs. Well we know Mr. Crunch has striven to keep discipline in our midst. And we shall have gone a long way along the road when sixty four departs. But you, fifty seven shall not be let off so easily. Your mother shall be informed and we shall suggest keeping you here. To make an Englishman of you. Sixty four, prepare to pack your things. Be ready to vacate. The headmaster upon this report will decree your further presence in this school as no longer desirable. Smithereens. No wonder there are no dart boards in Irish pubs. And sixty four just let me conclude by telling you yours is the most remarkable exhibition of brazenness and insolence it has ever been my unpleasant duty to witness in this school in the seven years I've been here. Shirtyness is simply not in it. It's been cavalier villany all the way.'

"Pray sir, forgive me."

"Forgive you."

"Sir, and allow me another chance."

"You have the barbaric effrontery to stand there and beg for mercy."

"Sir. Thou hast given me the defences of thy salvation, thy right hand also shall hold me up, and thy loving correction shall make me great. Psalm Eighteen sir."

"I damn well know what psalm. And they shall cry, but there shall be none to help them, yea even unto the Lord shall they cry, but he shall not hear them. Also Psalm Eighteen."

"By every indication sir, I am therefore completely buggered." "I should not use that word if I were you."

"May I interrupt Mr. Slouch and say something."

"Do by all means."

"Beefy. Please remember, although you are sent down from this school, I am sure headmaster will give you the benefit of certain discretions which will not unduly reflect upon your future and you can make a fresh start."

"But sir if I'm flung out, my trustees will blow a gasket."

"You are not yet nine, your trustees surely will consider your age.'

"Sir I am nine years, eight months, two weeks, one day, four hours and twenty two minutes."

Slouch tapping his pencil on his paper. The sun a great ball of red sinking and lighting up the edge of clouds in pink. All the lonely corridors, the bleak classrooms, the morning and evening dormitories now threatened to be taken away can suddenly become like home.

"One would think, sixty four, you were twelve to listen to you. I wonder do you know that your redeemer liveth."

"Yes sir, I know that my redeemer liveth. I know it."

"And you fifty seven."

"Sir I think that he may too, liveth. My ancestor was the author of the catechism, the Christian doctrine by way of question and answer drawn chiefly from the express word of God and other pure sources."

"Good Lord, one constant stream of surprises."

Slouch raising eyebrows high and Crunch reaching into his pocket to withdraw a small rosewood silver embellished casket. Opening it with a click. Pinching out snuff and putting it up into each nostril. Sniffing and fanning his gold silk hanky beneath his nose. The sun blotted away and the sky darker, tumbling great grey clouds over the deep thickening blue. A bell clanging. And another gently off in the distance from the village church. How so much fear treads where all for miles is moist grass meadows, river and woods.

"Well Mr. Slouch, perhaps, if there's nothing further. I have a bell ringing engagement at village church, and some essays to correct before dinner."

"Yes. Well I think we've concluded this matter. By the way you have traipsed mud in upon headmaster's carpet. Now both of you get out. And after prayers, sixty four, you know where to be."

"Before I leave sir, I ask you give back my diary."

"It's evidence."

"It's mine sir. And you must give it back to me."

"O we will be keeping this little document. As an example to other boys who may be like minded. And after your trustees have given it sufficient and adequate perusal."

"You can't keep it, it's mine sir.' "I most certainly can keep it. School property."

"I bought it with my own pocket money. You cannot keep it."

"Don't you raise your voice to me."

"It is my copyright property sir."

"O we are a clever little boy aren't we."

"Common law sir. My trustees will sue you, sir."

"More threats eh. More uncalled for cleverness. We've come upon a very large cuckoo as is sometimes hatched in a poor little torn tit's nest. I'm so glad to have Mr. Crunch here to witness your display of legal knowledge, I'm sure no one would believe it. I think perhaps I'd better ring for Mr. Newt the school secretary. Get this all down on paper."

"You are afraid of me sir."

"How dare you assume that. Certainly not."

"Respectfully sir, it would be as well if you were. Because previously you have had me dead to rights. But upon my word sir I will tell my trustees to sue you to return my diary. And they are, two of them, solicitors."

"Mr. Crunch, go immediately and fetch Mr. Newt please."

"Mr. Slouch surely we're letting this matter get out of hand. Can't we take a sporting view. I think as a matter of fact that Beefy indeed is within his rights to demand the return of his diary. It is a personal document."

"And I am sadly apt to feel the ruddy little book is unlawful." "No Mr. Slouch."

"What. Gross indecency with others is not unlawful. Come come."

"I think that is a bit extreme of you Mr. Slouch, his diary does not say others."

"I'm sure there've been others. Frivolities, invitations to bed with bigger boys. Things I hardly yet dare speak of. Unnecessary handling about each other in the rugger scrum. And in the baths."

"Mr. Slouch I can't feel we should pursue this melancholy line. There is no one in this school who takes a poorer view of smutty talk and behaviour than I do. And indeed I have campaigned vigorously to wipe out any evidence of it. But it is a question of the boy's property. I mean we must not get into a lather of hysterics here."

"I'm in no lather I assure you Mr. Crunch. I also happen to be deputy headmaster."

"O dear no one is usurping your authority Mr. Slouch."

"I should hope not."

"But if you shoot off a chap's kneecaps I hardly think there is point in putting bullets in his liver."

"What on earth do you mean Mr. Crunch."

"I think you're being unnecessarily harsh. And somewhat unfair. Indeed they were my lamb chops and had Beefy asked I would have given them to him with the greatest of pleasure.

The boy's been punished quite sufficiently. And damn it, if you want the truth I think you're being a bully."

"That's quite enough from you Mr. Crunch."

"And I may add a blackmailer. By threatening to keep this boy's diary."

"Do I hear you correctly Mr. Crunch."

"You most certainly do, Mr. Slouch. This boy Beefy here, and I don't know the other boy sufficiently well, but Beefy is one of the most brilliant boys ever to set foot in this school. Indeed I should not be at all surprised if one day this school were remembered only for the fact that he was briefly here."

"Good Lord I won't believe my ears."

"Well you'd better believe this then. Unless the boy's diary is returned to him prior to his leaving this school, I personally will get in touch with his trustees. Good day."

This tall thin elegant man. His sad face hardened with knotted muscles across his cheeks. Standing glaring at Slouch. And reaching to grasp up the great thick red volume of Debrett and banging it closed between his hands. With a sudden gigantic heave sending the noble tome crashing across the room against the shelves. The oar above clattering down. Slouch raising his arms to shield his face from the descending trophies. And one last, an ancient cricket bat, hanging askew by a shredded crimson thread, fell at the slam of the door.

Beefy with a pump of elbow into Balthazar's ribs. Brief grins and eyebrow twitching on the faces of the wide eyed little boys. Slouch slowly stands. Smiles fade. And Beefy, his mouth open drawing in his breath and raising a hand slowly to point at Mr. Slouch as he leans forward on arms pressed astride on the desk.

"Sir. Your flies are open."

Slouch with a shiver straightening

Slouch with a shiver straightening up. Quick nervous fingers tugging and pulling and buttoning. A red rage steaming at his temples. Beefy clutching Balthazar by the hand. Retreating backward towards the door. As the words come hissing out of Slouch's teeth.

"You two get out of here before I kill you."

Balthazar turned the crystal handled knob and pulled open the heavy door. Beefy glancing behind and pushing Balthazar forward. The door slamming. And they ran pounding down the wax gleaming hall.

It is

The random

Accumulation

Of triumphs

Which is

So nice.

8

Across Berkshire, Hampshire and Surrey, the headmaster returned from Swindon. His little grey roadster pulling to a halt at three this Thursday afternoon. This early December. Rumours whispered. And two mysterious days went gloomily by.

On a damp Saturday they marched down across the pebbled path to the sports pavilion. Carrying their towels, striped stockings and boots. The crash and crunch of muddy bodies. Ear pulling, shin kicking. A wet rugby ball sliding from hands. And Beefy plunging his tough little figure past monster Masterdon for the winning goal.

To the strange postponement of beatings Beefy said they were finding out if my trustees are leaving a packet to the school. And then Sunday after prayers in chapel as cocoa was being given, numbers were called to report at Mr. Slouch's room. Twenty two, fourteen and sixty four. And as Beefy tugged on trousers over his pyjamas he said to Balthazar, they have found out that my trustees are not leaving them a fig.

Masterdon came grinning near slurping cocoa down his cheeks.

"Slouch nearly captained England Beefy. Scored one hundred and twenty runs. Your botty will surely be poorly."

"Shut up Masterdon or I will punch you in the eye.'

"Just try it. Anytime."

Balthazar watched as Beefy walked out the aisle between the beds. And disappeared into the hall and up the stairs. And down to doom. The minutes went by. And then the first screams.

"Hey Balthazar, that's your friend Beefy."

"It's not. That's Duffer. Beefy will never cry out."

Above, at the end of each sound of heavy running footsteps. A loud scream. Six times. And six more times. And then the footsteps running and followed by silence.

"That's Beefy, Masterdon."

And the dormitory figures stood on their beds waiting. Beefy strode back in neither sad nor glad. Followed by whimpering Duffer and Jones. Who ducked and cowered between the beds as they were made run the gauntlet of knots and wet tips of snapping towels. When lights out to snuggle up to one's knees in darkness. Ahead a cold grey Monday. Of Latin cases, isosceles triangles, and the triumph of England at Waterloo.

At the evil sad time of four o'clock Balthazar and Beefy were summoned to headmaster's office. The oar and cricket bat back up on the wall. Debrett safely on the shelf, a wide crack down its spine.

"All right boys. Stand there. Would you kindly take a seat over there Mr. Crunch and you there, please Mr. Slouch. Now I'm not going to waste time explaining the enormity of the offences and why they merit the measures they do. We know that without rules chaps would be waltzing naked in Piccadilly. But before proceeding I would like to ask you number sixty four to recite the canons of this school. Indeed if you know them."

"Be respectful at all times to masters. Do not tease younger playfellows. Be kind and attentive to elderly people. Do no mean or sneaking thing. Be always open, cordial, honest, manly. Be at all times clean of ear, teeth and heels."

"Yes. Quite. But you have forgotten something."

"O. Don't spit bone or other substances caught in the teeth back on to the plate."

"Well that's certainly not done but it is not in fact a canon of this school."

"Pure thoughts and deeds sir."

"Good."

"Sir I feel sick. And am about to disgorge."

"Get out of here this instant then and come back."

"Thank you sir."

Beefy quickly exiting out the door. Slouch grunting. Headmaster taking his pince nez from his nose and pursing his lips.

"Well now fifty seven, your little princeling friend seems suddenly to have got a weak stomach. From what we hear of him it's certainly not his normal condition. I think we are all a little excited and bewildered. With this rather disquieting situation. I don't like much of what I've been hearing. But it would appear that you are being led by a boy much advanced in chicanery. The fact that he is to be sent down and you are to stay should be of no encouragement, let me assure you of that. Have you anything to say."

"Sir he is my friend. And I do not care to listen to what you might say about him."

"Noble of you, I'm sure. Cheeky too. We of course would not expect you to rat on your friend. But we want straight answers. Have you engaged with number sixty four or others in activities which might involve your being in the same bed with another."

The door suddenly opening. Beefy reappearing.

"Don't answer that Balthazar."

"How dare you come in like that without knocking. Stand right there and be quiet. I repeat to you fifty seven, have you engaged with sixty four or others in activities in the same bed."

"I refuse to answer, sir."

"Do you realize I may have you sent down for refusing to answer."

"Yes sir."

"Well are you going to answer then."

"No sir."

"Very well. We'll take up that matter later. Sixty four. I have here your diary. Is that correct."

"Yes sir."

"What is the meaning then of these smutty homosexual poems."

"What poems sir."

"Do you wish me to read them."

"Yes sir."

"I would eschew such a tricky little pose as you are at- tempting here sixty four. Don't try it on with me. Have you engaged in smutty behaviour."

"I have sir. I frolic at request with the big boys sir."

"It's clear then that what Mr. Slouch says is true, you are completely without conscience."

"I have always enjoyed sexual activities sir, my tutor said one must always uphold freedom of the flesh."

"That's quite enough out of you. Needless to say your guardian has been written to. And your trustees. And your removal from this school at the earliest has been requested.

Do you understand what I'm saying."

"I do sir."

"However, Mr. Crunch here has pleaded upon your behalf and not without my listening with some sympathy. Also that matters in your past were not everything to be desired. And it is upon his pleading that I do not mark your record. You will go from this school able to make a clean start at another. We are aware of your considerable talents it would seem. That's perhaps the greatest pity. One allows for your exceptional abilities but that does not give you licence to attempt to make fools of us. Or that this school is run for the amusement and benefit of one or two boys. And now we come to the matter of the ownership of this diary. I am not satisfied that the opinion given on either side in argument concerning this is the correct one. But for the time being I personally feel the diary is best kept with us."

"Sir."

"Now I'll do the talking sixty four, you keep quiet. And when you have settled in somewhere else we may take up the matter of this diary again. Now who takes care of you in the holidays."

"I go to Sutherland to my granny's sir."

"O yes I know it up there, bit north but good shooting.

Don't suppose you include shooting among your other more unhappy proclivities."

"Yes I do sir."

"Hmmmm. That so. Well I know it well up there. Yes. I hear birds are plentiful on the moors this season. Last year, August, sixty two brace of grouse by seven guns in abominable and atrocious weather. North wind very adverse. So you shoot.'

"Yes sir."

"Hmmmm. Good to start young. Keep your eye down the barrel on the bird. Where is your guardian located then."

"Ruppinton sir. Ruppinton House."

"Jolly fine shoot. If the day is not spoiled by mist and downpour. Very high rent for a season."

"My granny is a tartar sir. She has been known to charge for drinking water sir."

"Is that so. Well we won't go into that now. Mr. Crunch, Mr. Slouch, I think this sad little occasion is over then. Anything to say. What. I think we have dealt with the matter fairly. What. Can't let the school down. We raise boys to be leaders in all walks of life. And not so they are found some day waltzing in a state of undress around Piccadilly. Both of you are therefore dismissed now. And sixty four, take a bit of luck with you."

"Thank you sir. Goodbye sir."

A bright crisp sunny day. This Friday afternoon. Beefy on Tuesday went to the village and bought dog food for Soandso. Selected meats, liver, vitamins and minerals. And delivered him freshly bathed from the river to the care of Mrs. Twinkle. He went to a last choir practice. And his solo voice could be heard out across the fields. He said he would be going north to Scotland and knew what he would do on the train. He would look up in the dictionary many foul words and say them in memory of Slouch who was a tadpole and a bicycle seat sniffer.

Balthazar was given all the precious little treasures. Hidden behind a loose brick near the boilers where Masterdon kept his grass snakes. There was a hunting knife. A catapult and a pea shooter. A secret shoe box with two poisonous adders. And an obscene photograph.

Beefy bundled up with a long black scarf said goodbye at the top of the great stair. The blood red of the window lighting up his ruddy cheeks and carrot hair. And Balthazar went to the room where his elephant Tillie was torn to shreds. His face pressed to the glass as those grinning ones that day. And out on the gravel a bowler hatted gentleman held open the door of a long black car. Beefy stopping and looking back at the window. He reached into his coat. A great grin on his face. Smilingly he withdrew a small black book. Held it up and waved his diary.

The car turned up the little hill of the drive. Tires crunching on the gravel. White exhaust in the cold air. And at the rear window the face of Beefy. Throwing a kiss from his fingertips. The naked trees. And now the car vanishing beyond the rhododendron. A last wave too late because he was gone. Towards the steeple tip of the village church, as it poked sharply into the sinking sun.

And

The bell

Rang once

To say

Goodbye

To

Sixty four.