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St. Andrews' Saints	By : limonize Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1156 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
ST. ANDREWS' SAINTS 6
"Master Hayes, stand to attention," Form Master Sutton ordered, as the students had filed in. He gave the rest of the students the nod to take their seats, once satisfied that everyone's appearance was acceptable and that all had their correct books and notes with them.
"Yes, sir?" Darren had the temerity to ask, having never attracted the form master's attention in this manner before.
"Master Hayes, you are to report immediately to the Headmaster's office - neither dally or allow yourself any diversion whatsoever - have I made myself perfectly clear??" the tall, thin-lipped man glared at him.
"Yes sir, right away, sir!" Darren blushed, quickly removing himself from his form room. He wondered now with a great deal of worry, what matter could have provoked an instant order to attend to the Headmaster's office. The boys watched him leave from the corner of their eyes, sniggering among themselves when the form master turned his back to them to write on the board. Since Darren was the form's top student, they were actually concealing a bit of shock that Darren had somehow managed to provoke a stern attitude from the powers that ruled St. Andrews.
All knew that a trip to the Headmaster's office during a session, could only be for one reason: a serious disciplinary matter.
~ ~ ~
"Master Hayes – step inside."
Darren stepped inside the majestic, oak-panelled room with its ornate marble floors, its magnificent desk and carved chair, its brass lamps and fitting - and knew he was in the presence of traditionally acquired power. The voice was not one which greeted him at all warmly. He glanced up fleetingly at the Headmaster who had once accompanied him the to the place where he was to be bunked with a bunkmate. No approving smile was waiting for him this time. It made him inwardly shudder.
"And you, Master Jones...step forward, sir!" he turned to face the other boy.
To Darren's utter surprise, Daniel stepped forward from behind him, and took a position parallel to Darren on his right. He had to have been standing at the back of the room, partially hidden, else Darren would have surely noticed him when he first came in.
"I forbid you to look at each other. I want you both facing forward, looking at me, and I want neither of you to speak, until spoken to. Do you understand, Master Hayes??" he said with a booming voice.
"Yes, sir," he answered, tears pricking his eyes. Having never been brought in front of any headmaster for any wrongdoing, he felt deeply ashamed to be spoken to so harshly, and with such a tone of censure.
"And *you*, Master Jones?! – I shall only increase my penalties if you should disobey…"
"Yes, sir, I will obey, sir!" Daniel answered, his voice deep and grave, conveying his respect of the situation.
"Now, Darren, I want you to tell me exactly what Caldicott is referring to when he refers to you as "Jones' whore"..." demanded the incensed man, enunciating each word as if contained some vile mouthful of ash he were trying to rid himself of
Darren was about to glance in Jones' direction, but then caught himself, and looked straight at the intimidating, square-shouldered man, remembering he had beeb expressly forbidden from doing so.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea..."
"Is it safe to say then, that you have had no physical contact with Jones? And are wholly innocent of any activities which would precipitate such a slanderous comment?"
Aghast, Darren replied unhesitatingly, "Oh, YES sir! Most assuredly, sir! I mean, no contact whatsoever, sir, and not involved in anything, sir!"
"And you, Jones...if I were to show you a sketch of the young lad here, performing unspeakable acts, would you deny that they had been found in your room?"
"I am abhorred that such a suggestion could be made!" swore Jones, as he gazed at the Headmaster, his eyes widening in horror.
"And if I were to suggest that young Darren had made such sketches and placed them in your desk drawer, what would you say to such a charge?"
"I would say, that I could scarcely believe such a thing. It makes no sense."
"Quite!" answered the Headmaster becoming angrier by the minute. "In fact, I am dealing here with one, two or three liars, and it pleases me not one whit! Today, on Caldicott's accusation, I inspected your room, and in Master Jones' desk discovered disgusting *filth* of the nature I referred to. As you are no doubt aware, this lascivious item is grounds for expellation from the Academy! So now I ask you again, Master Jones, to come clean and tell me which of you has drawn this obscenity???"
Darren felt he could no longer bear the tension of what was occuring and interrupted meekly, pleadingly:
"Your Worship, I cannot conceive that either of us would..."
"Stop whining and snivelling, Master Hayes - you have earned yourself two strokes of the cane for speaking out of turn!"
"Caldicott means to hurt me because I'm not fagging for him sir!!" persisted Darren anxiously, despite the Headmaster's obvious escalating anger.
The headmaster turned on Darren in fury. "Four strokes!!!" he roared. Then calmed somewhat at the realization that Jones was watching in apparent shock at his loss of composure. "And you mean to tell me that Master Caldicott in his senior year, would risk his tenure as a senior about to graduate, to invent such scandal for revenge, and has broken into your room to plant such a sketch???" he continued, cold fury coating his words.
Darren realized how unrealistic his accusation sounded. But he had never known Jones to draw such things and would never believe him the author of such a drawing, even in light of their moments of stolen pleasures. Yet he did wonder if Caldicott had in fact been that scheming, since he seemed to be a boy of fleeting interests who seemed to have moved on to other boys and forgotten about Darren.
"I don't know, sir," answered Darren in honesty, trembling.
"So you do admit this may not be a product of untowardness on Caldicott's part!" roared the Headmaster, determined to browbeat the truth of the charges that stood in front of him.
"I only know of what I suspect but do not know, sir..." answered Darren in defeat.
"Don't play games with me, Master Hayes! Until now, you have had an excellent academic record at St. Andrews, and for that reason alone, I am not holding you responsible for this morally depraved situation. You are younger than Jones and I know how these things work..."
"NO, Your Worship! Jones is not..."
"I said you are DISMISSED, Master Hayes!! Speak not of this matter again! You are not under any circumstances to discuss this situation or fraternize with Jones in the future except in a most academic manner, else it will be your hide along with his. And be assured your four cane strokes already acquired will not be sparing - I will direct Sir Gantry to apply the most wicked of blows upon you!"
Tears of shame slid down Darren's cheeks, but he quickly wiped them in anticipation of facing those who might occupy the corridors as he left. He had not been able to rectify the situation and how somehow fallen from grace. He gave nary a thought to his caning. All was naught when others would hear of the circumstances of it. The thought of the indignity which would now follow him down the halls every day with great sniggers and taunts, burned through him, all because someone had wanted to discredit them.
Who had drawn the pictures? Who had known planted them? He felt utterly bewildered and alone. He walked back to the dormitory with leaden feet, wholly indifferent to his books and studying, and threw himself face downward on his blanket on the floor, and wept and shook for a long time.
~ ~ ~
"You, Master Jones, are on the thinnest of ice," continued the Headmaster, after Darren had left, pacing back and forth. "I cannot prove that you are the author of such unholy smut, and were it not for the likes of Caldicott, I should remove you from St. Andrews this very day! However, I do not care for the likes of Caldicott nor his ill-bred manner and must temper judgment with probabilities. Caldicott is a consciousless brat, prone to spreading rumours, but likely lacking the girth of brain to start them. But your parents will be advised of this incident, and you will neither speak of young Darren's caning, nor give me any reason to suspect you of sordid behaviour. I have to deal with this in a manner befitting the circumstance. Since you do not confess to the authorship of these pictures, I shall insist you list all the boys who have visited your room in the past three weeks…"
Jones pulled his pen out of his satchel hesitantly, and began to write. When he had finished, he handed the list to the Headmaster.
"Masters Anthony Walsh, James Butterworth, Bruce Caldicott and Arthur Rothwell?" he read the list out.
"Yes, sir."
"I shall poll the boys at your dorm – if you have left any out…" he warned.
Jones shook his head. "You have my word, sir. It is a complete list with no one omitted."
"And Master Darren?"
"He has no visitors, sir: He is always studying hard."
"Yes, quite. You would do well to take note and emulate his study habits."
Daniel remained respectfully silent, only too well aware of the fragility of his position.
And of his guilt in the matter.
~ ~ ~
When Daniel returned to their dorm room, he had been hoping that Darren would not be there, but he knew it was too much to hope. His heart sank as he walked inside and saw the smaller boy curled up on his bed like a ten year-old, facing the wall. He had expected to see him hunched over his books, poring through his lessons, but the whole incident had shaken him a great deal more than he had even anticipated..
"It's all right, Darren – the Headmaster does not mean to make everyone aware of the cirumstance. He told me not to tell anyone of your caning…" he said in an attempt to assuage his bunkmate.
"You know what this place is like," Darren moaned. "Everyone will learn of it. It will be the gossip for the next years to come. I should rather be dead!"
Jones sat upon the edge of his bed, meaning to placate and comfort Darren, but Darren pulled quickly away from him.
"Don't touch me!" he threatened. "Or perhaps you want to shovel more fodder to them to tar and feather us with?" he cried bitterly.
"How could I do that? Don't be foolish - no one can see what goes on here!"
"Someone did! Some one has even drawn pictures!!" Darren rolled over and whirled on him, upset. "Who would arrange such humiliation without a witnessing? Someone has peeped through the window, or…"
"Darren, I must confess…it was my doing - *I* drew those pictures. But I showed them to no one, I swear! Someone had to have gone through my drawers to know…"
"You?? But why? Why would you do such a thing? Is it not enough that I try to give you pleasure? Why do you embarrass me in this way? Who did you draw them for? Tell me before I tell the Headmaster!" he threatened, frightened at this new knowledge of betrayal..
"I drew them only for my own pleasure, Darren! I love what you do, how you make me feel…and I wanted something to remind me…" Jones confessed reluctantly, feeling acutely self-conscious.
"Remind you? But I am here, living in this very room. Of what do you need reminding!" asked Darren with some panic evident.
"Because I cannot ask it of you all the time! Yet I can look at the picture and treasure and imagine what delights you have brought me and and could bring me again…and I can have the sweetest of memories of it if you ever go away, which you surely will…" Jones found himself choking on his words, as he dared to admit how intensely he felt for what Darren did for him. He felt his eyes sting and moisten as he fought back his own tears.
"Why do you cry?" Darren demanded.
"Because…it is my fault you will be caned…I fear I love you, and that it will anguish me to see your pain. I wish it could be me that took them for you…"
"It won't be that bad," offered Darren, his anger toward Jones now dissipated even though his feelings of confusion persisted, "four is endurable."
"It is a caning, not a strapping. It will steal your breath with its cruelty!" Jones answered, not daring to look him directly in the eye. Darren placed his hand upon Jones shoulder, frightened that his older companion looked so cowed. Darren could not fight the fear in his chest upon hearing this, but he reminded himself that other boys had endured canings. Some, up to ten. Perhaps four would not be too bad.
"I shall simply have to wear the marks awhile," he answered bravely.
Jones felt even worse, if that were possible. He turned away from Darren and stared off into space. Maybe he should confess to the Headmaster after all, even at the cost of getting expelled. Darren did not deserve to suffer like this. He could plead on Darren's behalf.
"I'm going to tell the Headmaster the truth…" Jones said finally.
"Don't be daft! It won't spare me – I was speaking when I wasn't meant to!"
"But maybe if he knew…"
"Then we'd both be caned until nothing was left from our backsides and then both expelled. It would be the worst of everything, surely you realize??" Darren pressed sharply into his arm, in warning.
Jones felt helpless at Darren's words. Of course he was right: It was the worst of admissions, and tended to implicate them both. It would be an admission of lying, a terribly serious offense in such a matter..
"But he's going to interview my visitors…" Jones told him.
"Let him. They'll deny it and he won't know who to blame…"
"And perhaps will punish us all, in that case."
"And have we not been caught in a group chastisement for crimes we did not commit?" Darren rationalised.
"You're very clever for a fourth former," Jones commented.
"Not clever enough to guard your drawer," Darren replied modestly.
"Not knowing there might be any reason to," corrected Jones. "You've been blamed enough for things. Let's not stand on your modesty."
"Suddenly, I am very tired…" Darren announced, almost overcome with the urge to sleep.
"Shall I wake you to study, later?" volunteered Daniel.
"Are the curtains completely shut?" asked Darren.
Daniel went up to close them, not caring if they aroused suspicion, after glancing briefly around the empty courtyard.
"We are good until noon, I reckon." He sat back down on Darren's bed.
"It's alright, Daniel…we'll be all right…just lay with me and hold me?" asked Darren imploringly.
Daniel lay down uneasily but wrapped a long, tender, and protective arm around him, discovering he felt much better for doing so.
~ ~ ~
Over the next couple of days, an uneasiness hung about the two boys that other students picked up on, but while rumours flew thick and fast, no reports of official consequences reached the senior students to feed the rumours. Any boy who dared to question their visit to the Headmaster, was given a steely glare, as if they had become a suspect for troublemaking.
That evening, the Headmaster knocked upon their door. The boys practically tripped over each other, inviting him in.
"Well, I've had a bit of a talk with the boys who visited your room," he began. "And Butters has confessed to discovering the picture and discussing it with Caldicott."
"But…" Jones was about to speak.
"Say nothing, Master Jones, or you will be taking Darren's caning for him!" he snapped.
Jones reflexively quietened at the man's threat, from his habits of obedience.
"Now, I am fully aware that Butters is a bit nosy and slow, and perhaps someone else fed it to him…or even meant for him to find such a picture, since he apparently has affections for Master Darren here – a prank to stir his imagination – he is known to babble on about such things from time to time to make himself important. I cannot ascertain who the creator of this drawing is, but it is obvious from talking to Caldicott, that he was prone to simply spreading self-aggrandizing rumours of which he had no first-hand knowledge. Both admit that neither of them has ever witnessed any untoward behaviour between you two boys. So I am putting you both on notice to engage in no behaviour which would tend to discredit St. Andrews in the future.
"Yes, sir! I mean, *no* sir!" replied Darren cooperatively.
"And we will speak of this matter no further. And if the other boys speak of this matter any further, it will be their bottoms that will see the end of a cane. I want to hear no more of this scandalous prank, most assuredly!"
"Yes, sir," Jones said with conviction.
"I bid you return to your studies. Mid-terms are nigh," he reminded them.
Both of them breathed quiet sighs of relief as their door closed on the man that could effectively prevent them from graduating, and earning a decent place among English society.
~ ~ ~
TBC
- 5
- 6
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St. Andrews' Saints