Pascale Auber & the Ruritanian Riddle

LVI St. Lawrence Hall - 1

The waiting area reminded me of my own schoolgirl days. I had often been been in more trouble than my teachers were prepared to handle, but being called to 'the office' as a guest rather than a troublemaker was a new experience. Setting myself down on the smooth, pew-like bench, I smoothed my skirts. I tapped the wood of the seat next to my own, indicating that Baud should sit beside me. He clambered up, looking around the room with wide eyes. Theo stood just in front of us, arms crossed, a booted toe beating impatiently on the pine floor.

"Do stop tapping, Mr. von Hentzau," I begged. "Baudoin is nervous enough as it is; he doesn't need your endless noise to make it worse."

"You don't understand, Miss Auber," Theo replied, a cross expression flitting across his face. "Reverend Barnard was my geography master – and I haven't seen him since I very nearly failed his course. He only passed me so it wouldn't keep me from getting into the university. It was a favour."

"Theo!" I protested, resorting, in my annoyance, to his Christian name, "I thought you were on good terms with these people and could therefore act as a sort of reference for Baudoin! Besides, how could you fail geography and become a diplomat?"

Theo sighed. "I am on good terms with them! My bills were all paid in advance, and both I and my brother were sent here. I am, therefore,  a valued customer. That does not mean I wish to talk to Reverend Barnard. He knows I nearly failed his course because I lacked focus and drive. I excelled at geography at the university level."

"You claim you excelled at everything academic!" I protested, as the door beside me swung open.

"Does he?" said a deep voice.

We all turned to look, Baudoin's head tipping upwards as Theo's posture shifted. No longer was he an impatient pretzel. He was standing very still and very straight, a serious expression on his face.

The voice had come from a severe-looking, grey-haired man, dressed in a dark brown religious habit.

"You are Miss Auber?" He asked.

I nodded, jumping to my feet. I held out a gloved hand, which the old priest shook as I said, "I am Pascale Auber. This is my little brother, Baudoin."

"Barnard," The man introduced himself, shaking Baud's hand very seriously. Then he turned to face Theo. "I know you, do I not?"

A slight pink flush spread across Theo's cheeks. "It's me, sir. I mean, it is I. Hentzau, sir."

"Hentzau? You still calling -"

Theo interrupted the priest almost rudely, his face quite red. "Yes, sir, Just call me 'Hentzau,' please, as you did when I was a boy."

I remembered the comment made by Theo's friend Gabriel, about how Theo was no longer a schoolboy living under an assumed name; it seemed he had called himself Theophilus von Hentzau before.

"Very well. Hentzau." The priest looked over Theo carefully, then over me, and then over Baud. "I understand you wish to enroll the boy?"

"Yes, my brother needs to attend an academically rigorous day school," I explained, "And according to my friend here," I gestured to indicate Mr. von Hentzau, "St. Lawrence's can offer that."

"We can indeed," Father Barnard beamed. "And how old are you, young man?"

Baudoin looked to me, and I nodded. "I shall be twelve in three months, sir," he said.

"Very good." An odd expression flitted across his features, and he turned back to Theo. "How old are you now, Hentzau?"

"Five-and-twenty, sir."

The priest raised an intrigued eyebrow. "My, but you have grown up. Now then, young Auber, hmm. Ah! Formula for slope of a line?"

"Um," Baud blushed, but answered, "Rise over run?"

"Correct. Give me, in Latin, the phase, 'the poet loves the girl'."

"Poetam puella – no, wait, poeta puellam amat."

"Not bad. What is the capital of Ruritania?"

Baud blinked, looked over at Theo, and then answered, "The capital of Ruritania is, er, Zenda?"

I groaned. Theo pinched the bridge of his nose, saying, "Strelsau. The capital is Strelsau."

Baud blushed.

"Never mind," the priest said kindly. "At least you named a town in the right country, something which I know Mr. von Hentzau could not have done at your age – well, for any country aside from Ruritania. At any rate, you seem no less intelligent than most boys. We shall await your previous school records, but I have no doubt we will place you with your age-mates."

"Yes, sir," Baudoin said in a small voice, "Thank you, sir."

"Now then," the man walked over to the set of double doors, pulling them open to reveal a dozen formless dark cotton drapery. "Our uniform consists of a black smock with long sleeves and a round collar worn over the student's own clothes. The school provides your first smock. Miss Auber, if you would help your brother, I am sure you will find one that fits him admirably. Meanwhile, Hentzau, follow me."