“What did Lily say to you?” Cropper asked.
Elijah shuffled his feet, glanced over at Brutus and then shook his head. Lily had said their conversation was confidential, unless he wanted to tell anyone, and really Elijah didn’t. They’d discussed things, private things, that commonly Elijah would never have shared with a woman, but Lily said to forget that and to just think of her as his employer. So he’d told her. Everything. From Brutus on Sundays to William’s invitation to join the brotherhood and all that came afterwards. She’d listened in silence and then sent him away, saying that they would meet again this evening.
And now Cropper wanted to know.
They stood at an impasse; Cropper on a couch indistinguishable from the one in his rooms back at school, Elijah in front of him, hands clasped behind his back – a solider at ease. Neither would give ground.
“I am your wolf, boy,” Cropper snapped. “Have you no sense of respect? That…” Cropper rose to sitting, gesticulating in sharp dismissive gestures, “That whore downstairs has no right to command you. She has no right to command any of us!” He was up now. Pacing and more agitated than Elijah had ever seen him. “That chair belongs to Elizabeth, by right of seniority. Not that street filth who will open her legs for a shilling.”
The punch came from nowhere, smacking into the side of Cropper’s head with the power of a sledgehammer. Cropper reeled, his gaze seeking out Brutus’, full of accusation.
Elijah backed off, rapidly. He had no idea what had made Brutus lift his hand against Cropper, but it surely couldn’t be good.
He was right. The two boys began fighting in earnest, their blows wild and undisciplined, air puffing out between clenched teeth. Several times Elijah spotted openings where one or the other could have taken advantage and finished the bout. But each was missed, both boys preferring to inflict damage than actual victory.
“What the hell?” Lyall barrelled into the room with Brolly on his heels. They threw themselves at the combatants, dragged them apart and into opposite corners.
Like a pair of boxers, Cropper and Brutus glared at each other across the carpet, fists clenched at their sides and bloodied nostrils flaring with anger.
“Take it back,” Brutus growled.
Cropper grinned, feral and red. “Never. It’s what she is and what she’ll always be.”
“She is the High Ram!” Brutus’ fist slammed into the wall, spraying plaster. “You insult her and you insult everything the brotherhood stands for. You insult me!”
“Oh, not this again,” Lyall sighed. “I thought you two agreed to disagree on Lily’s raising.”
Brutus pulled away from his brother and shot another glare across the room. “This is not over,” he snarled and stalked from the room.
*
“Knowing about it and hearing about it are two very different things, aren’t they, my dear,” the Major said.
Lily glanced over at him and then returned to staring out of the window. “Nothing I ain’t seen before,” she said. “Weren’t just girls on the streets, y’know.”
“I know.”
“Felt worse for the lads, sometimes. Least we might find a bloke and get wed. What’d they got to look forward to?”
“It certainly is a terrible world.”
“Too right.” Lily held her silence for a few seconds and then turned to face her mentor. “Weren’t just William. They’ve been doing it to all the boys. Elijah told me.”
The Major’s face reflected his unhappiness. “Well, gosh. And I’d so hoped Boehm’s teachings had died a natural death. There’s no call for such mindless brutality, at least not unless the novice is unusually bad. Look at yourself, my dear. You were hardly an example of good behaviour, but did I ever resort to barbarism?”
“Not after the first time,” Lily muttered, concealing her words by glancing back out of the window. Luckily the Major was more interested in lecturing.
“So, despite our best efforts, a pocket of resistance remains. I will have to speak to the High Wolf about this. It’s totally inappropriate to have such base behaviour going on right under our noses.”
Lily stopped listening in any detail. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before and yet the brotherhood still worked the same way. Young people exploited for their bodies, money and connections, and then cast away into loveless marriages or dead-end jobs. Her mentor may blame Herr Boehm but Lily wasn’t so naïve as to believe that. It was human nature that was to blame. Greed, hubris and lust; that simple. The Major was probably the only wolf who took neither ram nor hart to his bed.
Given the choice… She sighed. There was no choice. Without the brotherhood she would be back on the streets. At least here she had respect and a chance to make a difference, however small.
“Sir, I tried to stop him but-”
Brutus pushed past the agitated footman and into the room. Blood was smeared across his face and marked his collar.
“Mistress Lily, I need to speak to you urgently,” he said with a quick bow.
Lily glanced at her mentor, seeking permission, and gained it. “I’ll be in the library when you’re done,” said the Major, and withdrew.
The moment the door closed, Lily rounded on her visitor and caught him a hard smack around the head.
“What was that for?” Brutus yelped.
Lily raised her hand again and Brutus backed off sharpish.
“Where’s yer bloody manners,” she said. “The Major would have been well within ‘is rights to chuck you out of ‘ere and the house and all, storming in ‘ere like that and not even giving ‘im the time of day.”
“I had no choice,” snapped Brutus. “Cropper is about to make trouble and I thought…” His words petered out and he looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry. I will offer my apologies when I see your wolf next.”
“‘Nough said.” Lily tossed her hair back from her eyes and sat down. “Now for Cropper. What’s the numbskull been up to this time?”
*
Elijah stared down at his soup, surreptitiously sneaking glances left and right when he thought no one would notice. Cropper, his face like thunder, glared back at him and Elijah blushed. He’d neither sought nor did he want this coveted spot to the High Wolf’s right hand. Sitting further down the table with Lyall and the other juniors would have been far more to his taste. Unfortunately the traditional male – female pattern was not followed during dining at the brotherhood’s headquarters. Rather it was a wolf – ram arrangement, and whoever had established the seating order had managed to both annoy Cropper and earn Elijah’s undying hatred at the same time.
Mistress Ada’s fingers crept up Elijah’s leg and he squirmed away from her, only to come against a firm thigh. He glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw the lecherous expression on the High Wolf’s ruined face. Why couldn’t he have been seated on the far side of the table next to Lily? He would surely have gained more pleasure from it than Cropper.
“So, young ram, have you given any consideration as to your name?”
“Name, sir?” Elijah asked.
“Gosh, yes,” a bewhiskered gentleman, who had introduced himself as the Major, said from across the table. “Every lad who passes his initiation must have a brotherhood name.”
Beside him, Lily raised an eyebrow and the Major patted her on the hand. “And the young ladies, as well, of course. You’ll find no false distinctions here, my boy. All who achieve rank in this organisation do so by the sweat of their own brow.”
Cropper’s snort transformed into a cough behind his hand and he waved an apology Lily didn’t look likely to accept. Obviously his antipathy towards the High Ram was a poorly kept secret in certain circles.
“A name then, youngster,” the High Wolf continued.
“Aren’t we being a little presumptuous speaking of naming,” Mistress Ada said. “After all the boy has yet to pass his initiation this night.”
“I…ah,” Elijah stuttered. There was to be another initiation? He had thought that suffering the figging had brought him into the fold.
At his obvious confusion, Lily flashed him a smile. “Don’t go getting your underdrawers in a muddle,” she said. “Mistress Ada is just playing with you. You’ve the making of a dam- very good ram or Brutus wouldn’t have chosen you.”
“Th-thank you,” Elijah said, bowing his head and wishing he were more articulate. William would be, for sure. He would have charmed them all with his looks and wit.
“I suggest Oberon. Look at that lithe form and pretty face. He could easily be the King of the Faeries.”
“Bottom would be more suiting,” Cropper muttered sullenly. Everyone stared at him and he visibly bristled. “The boy’s an ass,” he argued, flushing in a combination of rage and embarrassment.
“Well, what an odd thing to say, since it was your ram who put him forward,” the Major commented. “I do hope your judgement of young wolves is more astute.”
“Broll- ah, Tiberius, that is, passed muster to the High Wolf’s satisfaction.”
“But this new fellow, this William. Such a pity he was unable to accompany you. I do hope his ill-humours aren’t a sign of weakness.”
Cropper laughed at the Major’s comment. “Not at all,” he said. “William is well suited to the role and this fever is the first he has suffered in the past year.”
“I was under the impression he had only been under your tutelage since September last,” Mistress Ada commented. “At least that is what Brutus said in his correspondence.”
“Ah, yes, well.” Caught out by his exaggeration, Cropper’s flush grew even more intense and he developed a sudden fascination with his meat.
Elijah followed the conversation eagerly. After so many months of seeing Cropper as the highest authority, it was something of a revelation to see the junior wolf put in his place by his elders. By the looks of his colour, it was entirely possible Cropper would suffer an apoplectic fit if anything more went against him this evening.
“Well we shall have to assume the lad is fit and healthy,” the Major said, his beaming smile suggesting he was enjoying Cropper’s discomfort a little too much. “Though we do have another source of information here with us, do we not, young Elijah. William is a chum of yours, I dare say.”
Finding himself the centre of attention, Elijah stumbled over his words yet again. “I… er, yes, sir, he is. It was he who brought me into the brotherhood.”
“Really. Now isn’t that interesting, Mistress Ada,” the Major said, turning his attention to Elijah’s right. “And your nephew was the one to see this one’s potential and bring him forward. It strikes me that we have no cause for concern that Cropper may have chosen amiss since William is obviously a good judge of character.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, Major,” Mistress Ada preened. “Brutus has always demonstrated excellent taste where his choice has been freely made.”
“Course he has, Mistress. Good solid breeding is what it is, not like these fancy lords with their silly airs and graces. We could use some lads like him in the House. Would almost make the rest of them bearable.”
Lily’s eyes glinted with mischief as she spoke and no sooner had she finished than the Major admonished her, saying, “Relatives of present company excepted, of course. How is your father, Cropper?”
“Tolerable,” Cropper retorted. The muscles in his jaw began twitching, a sure sign that his temper was close to fraying point.
“Such a tragedy about your mother. Herr Boehm was much mistaken in placing a hart with your father. The man was obviously unsuitable and not an initiate. A disgrace, really.”
“Again we’ve drifted away from the subject,” the High Wolf interjected as Cropper looked fit to burst a vein. “Young Elijah here was going to tell us all about William. Is he as pretty as Cropper claims or is it another of his flights of fancy.”
The Major laughed. “Well, what a surprise, Fenrir. Looks don’t make for a good mind, you know old wolf, as you should well know.”
Elijah narrowed his eyes as he followed this latest spat. The politics within this group fascinated him. Mistress Ada seemed the least involved, though the way her fingers dug into Elijah’s thigh at this latest comment suggested she was aligned with Fenrir, the High Wolf. Wheels moved within wheels and, much as he resented it, Elijah sensed he was being used as a pawn in some greater game.
Well and good, then. If they saw fit to use him, he would in turn make a choice as to which he would aid. And given the option, under no circumstances was he going to throw his lot in with the Fenrir and Mistress Ada, not when Lily had offered the hand of friendship. But how best to win them? Elijah quickly reviewed the conversation and came to the conclusion that emphasising William’s wits was the soundest decision. How unfortunate that most of the tales he knew were of mischief and trouble. Except…
Smiling across the table at the Major, he said innocently, “Oh, William’s very beautiful, but clever also. He managed to slip past us all when he ran away from school.”
An ominous silence met his bland comment and something must have alerted the rest of the room since the silence spread, moving out from the head of the table in a wave. The servants paused in their task of serving food and all eyes turned on Elijah. Opposite him, a knife slowly slipped through Cropper’s fingers until it fell to the table with a loud thud.
“What is this?” Fenrir asked, his voice cutting through the shock like the sharpest blade.
Elijah swallowed hard. The man’s tone was that of an animal, barely more than a growl. “He…erm,” he stammered.
“It is true that William ran away from school, High Wolf,” Cropper said hurriedly. “But that was many months ago and not anything to concern ourselves about.”
“Well, really.” The Major picked up his glass of wine and took a small sip. “I was under the impression this was a more recent event. Perhaps occurring no more than a week ago. The boy, as I understand it, is certainly not at St Peter’s.”
Cropper leant back in his chair and, affecting that casual air Elijah knew so well, said, “The boy was safe in bed with a slight fever when we left.”
“Curious. Then the William Bartlett discovered at Coleridge’s coffeeshop in Lambeth could not possibly be the same William Bartlett.”
Cropper’s panicked gaze flitted around the room, finding Brutus and Lyall and Brolley. Some unseen communication must have passed between them as Cropper nodded faintly, then wiped his brow and smiled. “That’s simply preposterous. Anyone could lay claim to the name.”
“But not to the face.” The Major clapped his hands and the doors at the end of the room opened to admit Christine leading a tired and confused looking William.
*
William hadn’t known what to expect when Christine led him down the stairs
to a small retiring room. Lily and the Major had been so very kind, providing
clean clothing that came close to fitting him, but they refused to explain any
of what was happening, simply leaving him in Christine’s care and saying
they would see him later. While dinner was being served, William even tried
asking the servants but they were no more forthcoming, claiming they knew nothing,
while their eyes told him a quite different tale. Finally in desperation he
tried speaking to Christine, but the girl wouldn’t answer him, simply
lowering her eyes and smiling in that quiet way she had. There was something
afoot, of that William was certain, but he had no idea what it could be. Thus,
when he was confronted by a room full of people, including Cropper and his cronies,
William found himself lost for words.
It was entirely possible that he would have stood in the doorway doing an impression of a hungry trout for the entire evening if a familiar voice hadn’t shouted, “William!” and he hadn’t seen Elijah rushing past the many occupied chairs towards him.
“Elijah!” he cried, taking a few steps forwards. Elijah barrelled into him, knocking the air from his lungs with an oof. Not that William cared. All thoughts of strangers and even Cropper and Brutus fled his mind. It had been weeks since he’d last seen Elijah and he had spent a large proportion of that time worrying himself sick over his friend’s well-being. He wrapped his arms around that slim body and held Elijah close, breathing in his scent and luxuriating in a familiar presence.
The quiet murmur of voices started up again around them as Elijah whispered in his ear, “Where have you been? We searched everywhere for you.”
William pushed Elijah away for a moment and drank in the sight of him. For a boy that William had feared beaten or worse, he was looking remarkably well. Much better than William himself was in all probability, despite the borrowed clothes.
“I was hiding-” he began only to be interrupted by an exceedingly ugly man standing up at the head of the table and bellowing, “What is the meaning of this?”
William flinched and Elijah patted his arm, saying, “That’s Fenrir, the High Wolf. I don’t think he likes Cropper very much so you may be all right.”
“May?” William whispered and then shut up as he saw Cropper slowly getting to his feet.
“William? What are you doing out of bed?” Cropper asked. “I have already made your excuses for not attending the conclave so there was no call for you to drag yourself down here all the way from school.”
“Conclave? Bed? What on earth is he talking about,” William asked Elijah quietly.
“Oh,” Elijah replied. “It’s a little complicated. We were ordered to attend this meeting and-”
“Silence!”
The mutterings around the room hushed as though someone had waved a magic wand, which, William supposed, was not so far from the truth. The High Wolf certainly seemed to wield as much power as any wizard. And he was definitely impressing Cropper if the older boy’s hunched shoulders were any indication.
“Come here, boy,” Fenrir commanded and, following Elijah’s lead, William made his way up to the head of the table.
“William Bartlett of Derby at your service, sir,” he said, clicking his heels in a short formal bow.
The High Wolf stared down his nose at him, his eyes flashing with rage, and this close to him, William could see how ruined his skin was, not just on his face but on his neck and hands also. It was remarkable the man had survived at all.
“How do you come to be here?” he was asked.
“I, um…” William glanced around and caught sight of Lily and the Major sitting beside Cropper. Lily smiled and waved her fingers at him. “I was in Lambeth and Lily persuaded me to join her here for a meal before the conclave,” he finished rather lamely.
“In London, you fool, in London!”
William cringed as the bellow threatened to deafen him. “Oh, I, um…” What could he possibly say that wouldn’t result in all of them getting into serious trouble?
“Stop stuttering, boy. For heaven’s sake, Cropper, you thought this was a suitable specimen to wear the mantle of a wolf.”
The High Wolf’s words dug into parts of William he’d thought he left behind at St Peter’s. Drawing himself up to his full height, now several inches taller than when he first arrived at school, he said, “My leg was no longer sore and so I decided to catch the post to London and join my friends.” Beside him, Elijah winced.
“A bad leg, was it,” Fenrir said, one eyebrow lifting slightly. A low mutter broke out behind him and William glanced back over his shoulder to see Brolley engaged in an intense whispered conversation with Cropper. By the expression on both their faces, it wasn’t a happy one.
“I was given the impression you had a fever.”
Whoops. William turned back, wondering what on earth he could add to cover his tracks. He need not have worried.
“An injury, High Wolf,” Cropper offered. “There was a fever also, which is why William was confined to bed.”
Fenrir’s attention turned on Cropper allowing William to shoot a worried glance at Elijah, who shrugged but looked equally concerned.
“That sounds terribly, how shall we say, convenient?” Fenrir said. His gaze shifted back to William. “Show me this injury that kept you abed.”
Something in the High Wolf’s eyes told William he was being given enough rope to hang himself well and truly. Sensing defeat, he decided to simply stop carrying on with this ridiculous charade and tell the truth. “I cannot, High Wolf,” he said. “There is no injury. I was neither sick, nor injured. I left St Peter’s some three weeks ago to come up to London and have spent the intervening days searching for my father’s business associate in Lambeth. Mistress Lily found me in Coleridge’s quite by accident and we exchanged a few words. I can only assume she recognised my name as, when she returned this morning, she put laudanum in my pudding and brought me here.”
His confession complete, William lowered his eyes and stared at the floor waiting for his punishment, whatever it may be.
For several moments no one moved or spoke. Finally the High Wolf’s voice broke into the silence. “My thanks for your testimony, Bartlett. Wallace, will you escort these two up to your quarters. There are matters here which need to be dealt with in a more suitable setting. True conclave will be called in the morning and we shall set these matters to rest.”
With that, the High Wolf drew his coat around him and stalked towards the door accompanied by Lily, the Major and one or two others. Cropper, Brutus and Brolly followed without a backward glance.
William watched them all leave, his belly sinking around the food he had consumed earlier. What a coward and a fool he was to drop all his friends into such deep water. He should have stayed in that tavern with Moore rather than come to London. At least that way the others would have been safe.
“We’d better hurry,” Lyall said appearing next to him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to be around the elders while they fight about this.”
“Agreed,” Elijah said. “Come, William, we’ll show you our rooms and you can get some sleep.”
“After he’s told us all his adventures,” Lyall added. “How did you come to be in Lambeth?”
Somewhat disoriented, William frowned, looking around for the one who was supposed to escort them. “Should we not wait for Wallace,” he suggested. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonise the High Wolf further. He’d done quite enough of that already this night.
“That’s me,” Lyall said proudly, dragging William towards the door and up the stairs. “My brotherhood name. Everyone gets one when they’ve passed the initiation.”
“Oh no,” Elijah commented, his pace slowly to a crawl. “They will never do mine tonight after all this fuss. Now I have that to worry about as well.”
“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you,” Lyall said. “Once the whole mess comes out, they may not let you take it at all.”