Grantchester Grind

34

The College Council met in plenary session two weeks later to hear the Praelector's report and come to a decision. There had been other more informal meetings and a great many heated arguments. But the Praelector had prepared the ground with a thoroughness that had left the Dean and the Senior Tutor furious but without any reasonable argument. The Praelector no longer relied on his undoubted authority. He had employed power and had done so through the strangest and most unlikely medium, that of Purefoy Osbert.

'This is pure blackmail,' the Dean said lividly when the Praelector told him that Dr Osbert's suspicions were a weapon he was quite prepared to substantiate if the need arose.

'You may call it that if you choose,' the Praelector replied. 'It is the truth and I shall use it if I have to.'

'You would bring the College down if you did. You would destroy the very thing you claim you want to preserve.'

'Again, that is your choice to make. Stand in the way of Hartang's nomination as Master and Porterhouse will be destroyed in any case.'

'But the man is a criminal and a monster.'

'I don't deny it. He is also immensely rich and vulnerable. By providing him with the protection of respectability we will earn far more than his gratitude. We will have him at our mercy.'

The Dean sneered his disbelief.

'I mean it. At our mercy,' the Praelector continued. 'You have not seen the almost ineffable surroundings in which he exists and which the pitiful man supposes must be style. The great glass tables, the long and most uncomfortable sofa in green leather, the wrought-iron chairs, the black leather, the windows of armoured glass. You would shudder at the vulgarity of his minimalism. Thank God he doesn't collect paintings.'

'I can't see that any of this matters,' said the Dean. 'You want to introduce this murderous gangster into the College and you call that having him at our mercy. You are mad.'

But the Praelector merely smiled. 'Charles the Fifth of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor, the most powerful man in Europe at the time and therefore probably more unlikeable than Edgar Hartang, withdrew to a monastery for the last few years of his life. I haven't put that comparison to the new Master-I doubt if he would understand it-but I like to think we can play a similar role in Mr Hartang's life. A quiet period of contemplation combined with the satisfaction of knowing that one is paying compensation for the excesses of one's past by contributing to the cultural achievements of the present. I am sure our future Master will come to view life here in that gentle light. After all he has no family.'

'How do you know? He has probably spawned frightful offspring all over the world.'

'Boys,' said the Praelector smugly. 'And since you want to know how I know, I can say that Mr Schnabel has been most cooperative. As the new College legal advisers, the firm of Schnabel, Feuchtwangler and Bolsover, has been most helpful. They share my feelings about Mr Hartang's future. I think he has uttered one threat too many. But you will meet them when they come up to prepare the documentation. Everything must be done in the proper manner.'

'But what are Retter and Wyve going to say? You can't just throw them over like that.'

'They are not being thrown over,' said the Praelector. "They will continue to deal with local matters and besides they are being paid, which is an entirely new experience for them as far as Porterhouse is concerned. I don't suppose you realize how much we owe them but…'

To Dr Buscott the Praelector spoke rather differently, and to Professor Pawley he explained, 'This will ensure that Porterhouse will be in a position to make a very munificent contribution to the scientific funding of the University and naturally your advice will be much sought after.'

But it was with the Senior Tutor that he had the greatest difficulty.

'Drugs? Heroin, cocaine, and you want to let a drug trafficker become Master of Porterhouse? I shall most certainly oppose the nomination,' said the Senior Tutor. 'After all we have always prided ourselves on our athletic prowess, particularly on the river. You are setting a fearful precedent. No, I refuse to be party to such a vile conspiracy. Over my dead body.'

For the briefest of moments the Praelector thought of saying that that could be arranged, but he desisted. 'There will be no drugs in Porterhouse,' he said. 'Funnily enough, Mr Hartang shares your feelings exactly. True, in the past he has had some dealings with the drug trade but he has long since seen the error of his ways.'

'Not according to those tapes. How else do you think he has made so much money? He's hand in glove with the Mafia and the drug cartels of South America. He has people murdered, he hires killers, he commits the most monstrous crimes…'

'True, Senior Tutor, very true. Anyone who opposes him does tend to come to a sticky end.' He paused for the inference to sink in. 'However, he has learnt from history that there is advantage to be gained from respectability. Take President Kennedy's father. Started life as a bootlegger and a gangster selling gutrot gin and whiskey during Prohibition and almost certainly had competitors murdered. He ended up as Ambassador over here during the war.'

'The bastard said Hitler was going to win,' the Senior Tutor retorted, 'and in any case they had to repeal the Prohibition law because they couldn't stop people drinking and they were putting money into the hands of gangsters like Al Capone and Joseph Kennedy.'

'Exactly the point I was going to make,' said the Praelector. 'Do you seriously suppose that the present American authorities, in so far as there are any, with their incredible financial deficit are going to succeed in stopping the drug traffickers? Do you really think that?'

The Senior Tutor said he sincerely hoped so.

'Ah, but think of the financial advantages that will accrue to the Governments when drugs are legalized,' the Praelector told him. And the social benefits will be enormous too.'

'What social benefits? The wholesale consumption of crack cocaine does not strike me as having any social benefit whatsoever.'

'I can think of one. The elimination of the criminal coterie that controls the trade now. And besides, I have never believed in the regimentation of society by a self-appointed and supposedly moral elite. If people choose to indulge tastes that hurt only themselves, they are entitled to do so. To attempt to dragoon them into moral perfection always fails. Or ends in war.'

'You are a cynic,' said the Senior Tutor.

'I have fought in one war and, while I cannot claim to have known what I was fighting for, I think I knew what I was fighting against,' said the Praelector. 'So far I have always found myself on the side of right. An accident of birth and history, I daresay, but one that doesn't incline me towards cynicism.'

'Not this time,' the Senior Tutor said. 'This time you are on the side of wrong and I shall oppose you.'

'It is your right to do so,' said the Praelector. 'Though I must warn you that you may come to regret it.'

The Senior Tutor did, almost immediately. Two days later he found a letter demanding immediate payment of far more than he had expected in connection with repairs, renovations and the re-roofing of the Porterhouse Boat House.

'This has nothing to do with me,' he told the Bursar, who had finally been persuaded to resume his duties. 'The College funds the Boat Club. I don't.'

'I daresay in the past…' the Bursar began, but the Praelector came out of the Secretary's office in support.

'You've evidently not boned up on the College ordinances of 1851 lately.'

'Ordinances of 1851? Of course I haven't. I didn't know there were any,' spluttered the Senior Tutor.

'Oddly enough, I have a copy of the relevant clause with me,' the Praelector said and handed him a page of numbered paragraphs. 'Number 9 is the one that applies to your position with regard to the expenses you have incurred without the authority of the College Council Bursarial and Finance Committee. Most unfortunate of course, but there you are.'

The Senior Tutor read the offensive paragraph and was appalled. '"In the event of an officer of the College in whatsoever capacity acting without the consent of the Bursarial and Finance Committee to incur expenses…" Are you mad? I can't pay forty thousand pounds and I'm damned if I'm going to. I've never even heard of this fuck-' (Mrs Moreland had added her presence to that of the Bursar and the Praelector) '-of…of this Committee.'

'It meets every term, doesn't it Bursar?'

The Bursar nodded weakly. He was too frightened to speak. He had horsewhips on his mind.

'Of course, in the past these matters have been a mere formality,' the Praelector continued, 'but in the light of the financial crisis now facing the College, I am afraid that Clause 9 has become obligatory. Our creditors are insisting on immediate payment and since you are legally responsible…'

The Senior Tutor retreated and consulted his own solicitor. 'I'm afraid there is very little we can do,' he was told.

By the time the College Council met in plenary session the Senior Tutor had capitulated. A bankrupt Porterhouse was one thing, but he was not prepared to be a bankrupt himself. Hartang was set to become the new Master.