Chapter Seven - Personal Pursuit
At first Lennox was so angry she couldn't speak to Connel.
'Bring her!' she ranted to Mannik later during English. 'Like I was some kind of object he could just pick up and bring!'
She was given a stern look by the English teacher, Mr Stone, an Englishman who lived in the Balreaig and was tolerated by the villagers because his wife had proved herself to be an excellent gossip.
'It's got nothing to do with Connel!' she continued. 'I make up my own mind. '
Mr Stone's stern look turned into dangerously raised eyebrows, which Lennox unwisely ignored.
'And I'm not going anywhere near Gram, whatever Connel thinks.'
Mannik nodded vigorously. He was in complete agreement on that point.
They were interrupted by the arrival of Mr Stone who put an abrupt end to their conversation by threatening kitchen duty for a week.
But Connel was smart. He knew he'd annoyed Lennox. But he also knew the proposed game was a few weeks away. He had time to persuade her. For the moment all he needed to do was stay away, and let her calm down.
Connel was right. By the end of the week, Lennox had stopped ranting. By the end of the second week, she had forgotten the incident altogether. Life at Calgacos was too demanding, and full. She was exhausted by the end of every day, and fell into bed, and into a deep sleep, with all grievances forgotten. Daily fitness, on top of lessons, and extra lessons in self defense, first aid, and survival was a demanding pattern.
Only the weekends allowed a welcome break from the punishing schedule. They were a rare chance to wake up to a sun gilded room, rather than a room shrouded in darkness and filled with the susurration of icy gusts. It was a luxury, on those days, to stay hidden in her glowing, nugget of a room, and enjoy the four walls that protected her peace.
On Saturdays, there was no morning rush, no shouting in the corridors. Breakfast was later and longer, the whole morning slower and sleepier. Both juniors and seniors were awarded the privilege of wearing their own clothes. For Mannik this meant a pair of jeans that made his legs resemble a pair of broken sticks, and a jumper with stitches so wide it could have been used as a net. For Lennox, it meant a pair of old, tight, black jeans, and a dark sweater that had once belonged to her Dad. She had no choice. She had nothing else which fitted. She had last seen her Dad over a year ago, and in that time her body shape had changed significantly.
'Do you always wear black?' Mannik asked one Saturday morning, as they ate their porridge and enjoyed the quieter atmosphere in the dining hall.
'Maybe' Lennox replied, deliberately obtuse. She wasn’t going to admit to having no clothes, not even to Mannik.
Mannik heard the hostility in her tone and dropped it at once. He was enjoying having Lennox as a friend. She didn't insult him, or punch him, on an hourly basis, as most of his other 'friends' in Feliformia did. Incredibly, she also stuck up for him with Gram, which was something else none of his other 'friends' did.
He would have been grateful to anyone who had done what she'd done. But it wasn't just what she did for him. She was also the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, despite the faded black jeans and the man’s jumper she wore. He had said nothing, but he had noticed how her long, dark, wild hair melted down her back, and curled, like ivy, in tendrils. He had seen, under her frayed and worn jeans, her slight, lithe figure. But he had been careful. She had become too important to him, and he dared not risk their growing friendship. For she was his perfect guardian angel, and his biggest concern was that she would leave. Gram was itching to tear him to pieces, and Lennox was the only thing stopping Gram.
So Mannik had been busy. He had one ultimate aim, and that was to leave Calgacos as quickly as possible while he was still in one piece, and he had a very good idea how he was going to do this
'Today, I want to show you the Great Hall,' he told Lennox, changing the subject.
Saturdays were set aside for Personal Pursuit. For most juniors, this was outdoors. Many of the seniors led sessions in archery, bouldering, or rock climbing. A very few juniors chose to stay indoors and ‘study’ whilst attempting to sneak down to the kitchens and pilfer food when Bull wasn’t looking. Mannik’s Personal Pursuit was the first of its kind. He had chosen to study the history of Calgacos, and he had persuaded Lennox to join him. But it was a Personal Pursuit with an ulterior motive. He was digging for dirt, and a reason to leave.
So far, this had meant exploring the castle, discovering shortcuts, forgotten cubby holes, abandoned storerooms, and a very dark and dismal basement.
'There's something about this school,' he added. 'Something more than meets the eye. The longer I stay here, the more convinced I become.’
'Wouldn't it be easier to tell your parents you want to go home?' Lennox asked curtly. She was still privately wondering whether anyone else had noticed she only had one set of clothes.
'I've tried,' Mannik hung his head. 'Many times. They think this is a wonderful opportunity for me. There's nothing I can say.'
'So what do you think we’ll find that might persuade them otherwise?' Lennox wanted to know. She was beginning to think Personal Pursuit was just a waste of time.
'I don't know,' he admitted. 'I just have a hunch there'll be something.'
Lennox said nothing. She didn’t know what Mannik was looking for, and she didn’t think he knew either. But whatever it was, she was sure the Great Hall would not provide the answers.
The Great Hall was in the heart of the oldest part of the castle where little teaching happened. The stone slabs were uneven, the walls thicker, and the ceilings low. From the dining hall, they headed the opposite way down the basement corridor and until they came to a stairway so narrow and winding, she could only see Connel's heels above her as they climbed.
At the top of the stairway was a long, narrow passageway leading to studded doors set in an archway. Inside was the Great Hall, wide and vaulted, with deep balconies along the sides and a fireplace laced with black soot and vast enough for ten men.
'I've only been here once myself,' Mannik said. 'For an assembly at the very beginning.'
On the far wall hung an enormous shield, larger then Lennox, too large to be wielded by a man. It was painted scarlet and a white cross separated it into four parts. In each part, there was a picture of an animal: a lion and bear on top, a horse and eagle beneath.
Lennox approached it and ran her finger over it. The shield was made of wood and buckled with age, round its edges were withered leather straps. The figures were better preserved as they were embossed in metal, and painted in faded hues, gold on the eagle's wings and the lion's mane. On the white cross she read the words Salvos Aptissimum.
'The school crest?' she asked.
Mannik nodded.
'Survival of the fittest.'
Lennox stared at the animals.
'The symbols of the four houses,' Mannik explained. 'The lion for Feliformia, the bear for Caniformia, the horse for Perissodactyla and the eagle for Aves. We are all supposed to bear some of the characteristics of our house, though I don’t think we do. Feliformia are majestic like a lion. Caniformia ferocious, Perissodactyla have immense stamina, and Aves have accuracy, and calculation.'
'The shield's far too big to have ever been carried by a man,' Lennox pointed out. 'But it looks ancient.'
They both inspected it more closely. It was cracked with age, and latticed with scores and divots; the scars of battle.
'And who are all these people?' Lennox asked, moving along the wall past a panoply of portraits, some with heavy, gilt frames; others smaller and jostling for position on the crowded wall.
'They don't look like past pupils.' Mannik muttered, joining her. '
There were so many portraits, they covered the panelled walls like slabs. They showed men in kilts and tunics, in a style many hundreds of years old, staring tonelessly outwards.
'How long has Calgacos been a school?' Lennox asked.
Mann
ik shrugged.
'Forever, I thought.'
'Most schools aren't in castles,' Lennox pointed out.
Mannik had stopped at a series of three portraits, high up on the wall. They were smaller and simpler than the others, their frames faded to indistinct brown, and they might have been easily overlooked except for the striking arrogance and malevolence of the figure in the last portrait. There was a small inscription on the frame naming him as Baron McTarn. His hair had been drained of colour, and was completely unkempt, spreading in all directions like ivy. His beard more like a reddish fur, obscuring half his face in a tangle. He was dressed in a dark tunic with no ornamentation on him. He was stood by the main gates of Calgacos, hands on his hips, challenging and threatening all who dared look at his face, where they would see his eyes were like an eclipse, with no hint of light or colour in them.
'He looks even worse than Kearns,' Mannik whispered, as if the Baron might overhear.
'Who is he?' Lennox asked, struck and unnerved by the portrait. ‘Who are all these people?’
'I don't know.' Mannik moved on, away from the Baron’s unnerving glare. But Lennox stayed, staring up at the portrait. It was strange that Mannik had mentioned Kearns, had likened the Baron to Kearns, because Kearns also made a shiver creep over her flesh. She dreaded having to talk to Kearns. She hated the way he looked out of the corners of his eyes, never straight ahead, and the way his peculiarly hunched shoulders and long neck made him look like an extra in a horror movie. When he looked at her, she simply wanted to run away and hide. She could not understand how he was a house master in charge of looking after the welfare of all the boys in house, and, unfortunately, her welfare as well, when he looked more ready to murder them all in their beds.
Mannik had reached the end of the wall, and the collection of portraits and was waiting for her.
‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Not seen what you wanted?’
She could have told Mannik that whatever dirt on Calgacos he was trying to find, it wouldn’t be framed and hanging on the wall.
‘I know there’s something strange going on here. I knew the minute I stepped through those creepy gates. It’s just so frustrating to know, but not be able to prove it.’
His head dropped.
‘I just don’t know where to look next,’ he muttered.
Lennox turned her back on Mannik and walked back to the portrait of Baron McTarn.
'Well, I do.' she decided. ‘We need to find out more about this man, the Baron McTarn.’
Mannik joined her, his head cocked, studying the Baron from beneath his hair.
‘Whoever he was, he was Evil,’ he whispered.
‘And he’s on their wall.’ Lennox added. ‘We need to find out why.’
It was a start.