Annoyingly the gents had dispersed round the room leaving the fireside seats to the women, meaning Lily had no choice but to talk to Ada. And given the choice there were plenty of others she’d rather talk with. The maids for example.
“I always suspected that boy was trouble,” Ada was saying. “Honestly, what can one expect from the offspring of a hart and a non-initiate. We should be eternally grateful that Herr Boehm’s influence was nipped in the bud when it was or we may all now be suffering under ridiculous ideas.”
Lily shrugged and leaned forward to snag a thin cheroot from the open box on the table. Personally she couldn’t see a whole lot of difference between Boehm and Fenrir; the current High Wolf was a cruel bastard, just cleverer at getting what he wanted. He charmed where Boehm demanded but at the end of the day, the harts still felt the bite of the wolf’s whip. It was disgusting. If it weren’t for the Major, Lily would have told them what they could do with their brotherhood years ago. But the Major was a good bloke. Blinkered, definitely, and not always kind, but good for all that. One day the dice would fall for him and then Fenrir would be out on his ear. Lily lived for that day.
The disgusted expression on Ada’s face when Lily lit her cheroot was also telling. Perhaps that was where their differences lay. Lily well knew how many in the brotherhood regarded her but, although Lily might have charged less for her services, Ada was still a whore despite her society manners and titled clients.
“I must concede, however, that he was quite correct in his assessment of young William’s looks. The boy is quite the cherub, is he not.”
“Chubby, with wings?” Lily said, keeping her face neutral. Playing the fool for Ada whilst mocking her was one of Lily’s favourite games. So far the stuck-up little tart hadn’t noticed.
“Oh, yes, I suppose one such as you would think that. I was actually referring to his angelic appearance. The blond curls and blue eyes. And such perfect pale skin. Far superior to a swarthy countenance don’t you think?”
Of course Ada wasn’t backwards in playing her own games.
They were still staring daggers at each other across the fireplace when Fenrir appeared and said, “Mistress Ada, you must forgive me for stealing your companion, but there are matters to discuss in private.”
Lily released a long trail of smoke and gazed lazily up at Fenrir, noting the way his right eye twitched. The old wolf was in a rage, no doubt about that. But would he kill the messenger? With luck, the answer was no.
“You make a start,” she said waving her cheroot at him. “I’ll be along in two ticks.” In this situation she was Fenrir’s equal, and there would be just the two of them since the hart’s representative was never present and probably didn’t even know of the brotherhood’s existence. That probably wasn’t a bad thing, Lily reflected. She couldn’t imagine the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland particularly approving of some of the brotherhood’s activities.
Though if Fenrir considered the matter was important enough he would call in deputies, which would mean another wolf and a hart belonging to someone. Lily pursed her lips as Fenrir bowed and left, wondering who he would chose.
She didn’t have long to wait for an answer. The study where all the governing
triumvirate’s business was carried out contained four chairs and only
one was empty by the time Lily arrived.
“Major,” she said, greeting her mentor with a relieved smile. He nodded back at her and she glanced over to see whom Fenrir had selected to represent the harts. It was Thomas, Fenirir’s own hart, which meant the High Wolf must have been playing the factions when he chose the Major. If it came to a vote, it would be two against two and with Fenrir holding the deciding ballot as High Master, no stalemate would be allowed.
“The boy lied, to his elders and betters.” Fenrir began, his face creasing up with rage. “He has brought the entire brotherhood into disrepute, not to mention undermining years of work at St Peter’s.”
So that was how it was going to be. Lily sighed. At least with the Major and herself here to speak for the more rational course, there was a chance that this mess could be sorted out without bloodshed.
“Well, I presume you’re speaking about Cropper,” the Major said. “Since the other boys can hardly be held responsible.”
Fenrir answered with a short nod in the Major’s direction and, pushing himself up out of his chair, he went to stand by the fireplace. “That boy has been nothing but trouble since he was first spawned. Look at that ridiculous situation with his half-brother. If we’d been informed of the bastard’s existence immediately, steps could have been taken. Allowing the boy to attend St Peter’s was folly in the extreme.”
“Water under the bridge, Fenrir,” Lily chipped in. “It’s done and dusted and not worth getting muddled up over. We’ve got to look at what Cropper’s done now and I can’t get past thinking that maybe he’s done us a favour.”
A sceptical look got cast her way, but Lily shrugged it off. “I’ve been hearing some pretty tattle tales about the goings on at St Peter’s and, well, I ain’t going into details, but moving Cropper on seems like the best idea.”
“Excepting that to remove him leaves the vexed question of Timothy and I would suggest that putting him in charge is no better. He has, after all, been under Cropper’s tutelage for going on three years.”
Damn the Major to the deepest of hells for pointing out the flaw in her plan.
“Move him too. And put another wolf in his place to bring the group up to scratch.”
Fenrir was shaking his head, obviously unhappy. “There is no way of achieving such a thing,” he said. “There’s no wolf of the right age.”
“Then let Brutus handle it.” Lily’s words fell into silence. Around her the two wolves and the hart were staring at her as though she had suddenly grown another head. Refusing to be bowed, she got up and went to join Fenrir leaning on the mantle-shelf. “He’s been at St Peter’s longer than any of them,” she argued. “Holding the fort until William reaches seventeen will only mean keeping him at the school for one extra year.”
“Ah yes, young William.” Fenrir turned away from her, making Lily grind her teeth in fury. He was dismissing her and her suggestion. She’d like to think it because she was a ram, but knew it had more to do with her being a woman.
“There’s Elijah also. Not to mention Wallace. Lily, do you really think it wise to leave such a volatile group in the hands of a…a…”
“Ram?” Lily suggested.
“Actually I was going to say an Irishman. They are renowned for their hot tempers after all.”
“I never met a ram that wasn’t up for a fight,” Lily countered.
“Which is why a ram is always governed by a wolf. For heaven’s sake, Lily, this is ridiculous. You cannot leave a ram in charge of a young wolf.”
They were talking around in circles. Sooner or later one of them would suggest letting it all go and allowing things to continue as they were. After punishing Cropper of course.
“But he isn’t,” a new voice offered.
Wolves and ram turned towards the broad figure in the furthest chair. Thomas held his hands up in a placatory gesture. “I am simply saying that the boy, William, has yet to be initiated. If he were set up to fail, then it could be argued that he is hart and not wolf and then no dishonour would come from leaving a ram in charge.”
“No,” Lily retorted immediately. “William is no hart, Peter. He takes no order from anyone and remains stubborn despite the odds.”
“But if he could be convinced…” the Major began and Lily’s stomach clenched at the exchange of looks between her mentor and Fenrir. They were plotting and Lily was damn sure there would be only one loser.
*
“Pleasant morning, young sirs.”
William stirred and opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight streaming in through the newly drawn curtains. He’d slept surprisingly well considering the upheaval his unexpected appearance had caused at the brotherhood’s headquarters. On the other hand, he had been warm and well fed, and sharing his bed with Elijah, all of which were excellent inducements for a good night’s rest.
Since their presence wasn’t required until eleven the following day, they’d spent the half the night playing three-card brag and relieving Elijah of his clothing for each hand he lost. Lyall ended up with the bigger pile of cloth and, arguing that he deserved the treat as he was letting the younger boys have the bed, persuaded Elijah to make better use of his mouth than harping on about his initiation. William, not wanting to be left out, did the same for Elijah and Lyall joined in to complete the chain. By the time it was time to rest, all three boys were sated and contentedly sleepy.
The rich scent of devilled kidneys and… Oh, was that fresh bread, wafted out from under the covered dishes on the small cupboard. Beside him, Elijah groaned and rolled over, clutching at William’s shoulder when he nearly pitched straight off the narrow bed.
“Do I smell breakfast?” he mumbled.
“You surely do,” Lyall answered. “It’s the best thing about this place. The cook is an absolute find. Didn’t you enjoy dinner last evening?”
Elijah sat up frowning. “In all honesty, I don’t remember.”
“Not surprised, with being trapped between Mistress Ada and the High Wolf. Pair of lecherous old-”
Throwing a worried glance at the servant now serving their breakfast, William jumped into the conversation before Lyall’s opinions could get them into even more trouble. “I think perhaps we should keep our own counsel on such matters.”
A faint flush crept up Lyall’s cheeks but he pointedly stopped talking until the servant withdrew, leaving them to eat and dress in peace. The clothes they were to wear proved something of a shock to William. Robes, not unlike the one Cropper wore in his rooms. Green for Lyall and white for both he and Elijah.
“They denote status, I presume,” Elijah said as they pulled them on over freshly washed, bare skin.
“Yes,” Lyall answered. “Purple for harts, green for rams and black for wolves. I suppose it makes it easy to tell who is speaking for whom.”
“Are there likely to be many people present,” William enquired, recalling the length of the table in the dining room the night before.
“Anyone who can make it I should imagine.”
“There were certainly quite some number when we arrived yesterday,” Elijah mentioned as he wrestled his belt. The slippery material made it difficult to keep the robe closed and thus decent.
Lyall proved to be right. The hall was fair bustling by the time the three boys arrived downstairs. William stayed close to his friends intimidated by the trappings of power he saw everywhere. So many people and not other boys like at school, but men and women, some wearing masks, presumably to conceal their faces in case of recognition and it made William wonder what famous personages were hiding under those delicate filigreed confections. Royalty perhaps, or members of parliament like Cropper’s father.
There seemed a similar number of black and green robes but fewer purple, which seemed strange if the brotherhood’s claim to equality were to be believed. When he enquired after the fact, Lyall shrugged and claimed to have no knowledge of how such things worked.
“This is the only occasion I’ve visited the brotherhood’s house since my initiation,” he said as they took their places along the wall of the great hall. “And then there was only a handful of people to stand witness.”
William would have liked to ask more, but there was no chance. Silence flowed through the crowd and at the far end of the hall the High Wolf and High Ram entered, taking their places to the left and right of the dais.
“Welcome, one and all,” Fenrir intoned, his tenor voice carrying easily down the length of the room. “I would have you all join with me in silent contemplation of our most worthy monarch; may the brotherhood remain at the forefront of the Lord’s battle keep her and speed the day when she joins us and takes her rightful place in our midst.” He gestured to the empty throne guarded by the statues of rampant wolf and ram, and then he, and all in the room, bowed their heads in prayer.
William found himself unable to concentrate. Rather than quietly reflective, his mind was whirling. Did the power of the brotherhood really stretch as far as the highest seat in the land? And if it did, how foolish had been his own attempts to bring it down. Twenty pounds and one boy’s testimony seemed a paltry offering in the light of such overwhelming influence.
He was so immersed in feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt that he missed the stirring of the audience finishing their prayers and only came back to himself when the sharp crack of a staff hitting the floor brought the extraordinary conclave into session.
With no prior announcement, the doors at the end closest to William flew open and two green robed men walked in, restraining a white clad figure between them. Lyall gasped and William glanced over frowning, wondering what was so shocking. The prisoner was walking oddly, his feet dragging, his head down, and when William peered closer, he hissed in shock.
“It’s Cropper,” he whispered, nudging Elijah in the ribs.
Elijah appeared frozen to the spot and William suddenly realised why. As the trio passed by, he could see that the back of Cropper’s robe hung in tatters and his back was a mess of bruised and bleeding welts.
Half of William was overjoyed to see such a bully repaid in kind, but the other half, the one that remembered Cropper’s moments of gentleness, was horrified. Surely such extreme punishment was undeserved? All Cropper had done was conceal William’s own absence from school.
“Roger Edward Ballard, formerly the wolf known as Cropper, you have been brought before this conclave to answer for your crimes.” Lily’s voice, almost as deep as Fenrir’s and just as cold, rang out around the room, but not loud enough to cover the exclamations of surprise from the crowd.
There was no movement from the figure kneeling before the dais.
The High Wolf took up the reading. “By word of the wolf, Tiberius, and our own investigations, you have been found guilty of bringing the name of the brotherhood into disrepute. Through his words and your own, you have been shown to have made judgements based on emotional attachment rather than rational principles by which our lives are governed. This transgression alone would have deserved the stripping of all rank and insignia, however you also saw fit to add lying to your list of iniquitous behaviours. How answer you?”
Cropper’s head lifted slowly and a painful croak, hardly recognisable as that calm decisive voice answered, “Guilty, master.”
This was all wrong. William couldn’t, for all he tried, fathom what was happening. Why was Cropper being asked to plead after the punishment? Had he already been tried? What about justice? Didn’t the laws of the land govern this enclave like all others? And if Cropper were disgraced, what of William’s mother? Would she also carry the taint through her new husband?
He was about to step forward, determined to argue this case, when a large hand landed on his arm. He glanced up, straight into Brutus’ expressionless eyes.
“Don’t,” Brutus whispered. “This is how it must be.”
“Why?”
“It just is.” Strong arms wrapped around him and William got tugged back against Brutus’ chest, such a familiar position that he sighed despite himself. There was safety within Brutus’ arms; the knowledge that whatever happened, he would be guarded.
The High Wolf was speaking again and when Brutus whispered, “Listen,” in William’s ear, William did as he was told.
“That is all the brotherhood requires, Ballard. We are neither cruel nor unjust, however allowing your feelings to override your status as wolf simply illustrated your lack of readiness for the power you were granted. This is the reason, and the only reason, you have been returned to the status of an initiate.”
Apparently content that Cropper had accepted his guilt, the High Wolf began to address the entire assembly. “It is the rule of this council that Roger Ballard be allowed a second chance to earn the rank of wolf. To this end he has agreed to accept a commission in Her Majesty’s army and serve under the Major until such time as he has learned the meaning of honour and discipline.
“Any that would contest this decision step forward…” The High Wolf raised his staff and looked expectantly around. It felt like the entire room held its breath, waiting for someone to say something. Brutus’ hand stayed tightly gripping William’s arm. Not that William would have moved or protested. Cropper was to be given another chance, not simply sent down from school and disgraced. Bet yet, he had been granted a commission and would have a chance of building a career in the army.
When none came forward before the High Wolf’s staff struck the ground, everyone, including William, relaxed. The reputation of his mother’s new husband was safe.
Cropper was dismissed and moved to kneel at his new master’s feet. William smiled at the sight of that dark head bowed submissively. If anyone could find the good in Cropper, it would be the Major, William was sure of it.
“I call the wolf Tiberius, also known as Timothy Albert Rayne.”
It wasn’t over. William’s gaze flew to the door but it remained closed. Brolly stepped out from a small of gaggle of black robed wolves on the other side of the room and took his place in front of the dais. He still wore his robe and bore no signs of a beating. Presumably whatever crime Cropper had been found guilty of, Brolly was exempt.
“Master.” Brolley’s voice rang loud and true as he bowed deeply to Fenrir.
“You have also pled guilty to lying and concealing the absence of an initiate wolf from your elders. For this lesser crime, you will also undergo a period of special tutoring in order to reinforce the lessons of duty and responsibility.”
Was Brolly also to be sent into the army? William wasn’t sure that would work very well. Brolly didn’t seem the type to settle to a regimented life.
“From this day forth you will consider yourself at my command. Your schooling will continue under my supervision and you shall reside in this house. Any who object?” Again the High Master’s staff hung raised but again none raised their voice to question the decision.
The expression on Brolly’s face suggested that he was quite happy with his sentence and William suspected that it was no real punishment at all for the flighty and fun loving wolf.
Content that his decision met with approval, the High Wolf rapped his staff on the ground and then surrendered the stage to Lily. She stepped forward, her green robe clinging to her thighs as she moved.
“Brutus. Hear me and attend.”
William’s legs wobbled as Brutus moved from behind him. Only Elijah’s sudden presence at his side stopped him pitching backwards. Surely not Brutus? And if he, did that mean Lyall, Elijah and himself were also to be punished? William was the one who had run away in the first place, so what possible sentence could be handed down to him?
“Mistress.” Brutus knelt before the dais, accepting and kissing Lily’s hand.
“The first responsibility of every ram is to his wolf, thus you cannot be held responsible for Roger Ballard’s actions.”
William let out a breath, at least for Brutus’ benefit. His own fate, of course, still lay in the hands of others.
“However, you also owe allegiance your High Ram. It was your duty to report his wrong doings the moment you arrived in London and for this lapse there is no excuse.”
“No, mistress.”
“For this you will submit to forty lashes, to be administered this very afternoon. You will be pleased to hear that Mistress Ada has generously agreed to allow the use of her chambers for your punishment so you will not be humiliated in public. Offer your thanks.” Lily gestured to a petite black-robed woman William assumed must be this Mistress Ada. He knew her only from the gossip Elijah has let slip the night before about his introductions to the brotherhood elite, but knew enough to assume that Brutus would most probably end up rather enjoying his forty lashes.
Shuffling on his knees, Brutus kow-towed in front of her and, graciously, she helped him to his feet and drew him aside, whispering something that made him both flush and smile.
Lily allowed them a moment and then said, “Wallace. Hear me and attend.”
Lyall followed his brother’s course and for his sins was sentenced to ten lashes which Lily would discharge herself in the Major’s rooms.
With Lyall’s punishment agreed, only Elijah and William were left. They stood together as a small circle opened around them, doing their best not to cling to each other when their names were called.
The dais seemed so much bigger close to, William thought as he dropped to one knee, seeing from the corner of his eye as Elijah did the same.
“Master, Mistress,” he said, his voice cracking with the effort to stay calm.
It was the High Wolf who spoke and William had to force himself to listen, such was his fear. “Elijah Abraham Joshua Price and William Francis Bartlett. As initiates, you hold no responsibility for either your own actions or those of your elders. As such you are exonerated from any and all charges and will present yourselves this night for your initiation into the ranks of the brotherhood.”
TBC