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Scarsdell Academy
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Crowley headed out into the school grounds, to walk and think. Scarsdell Academy lay in close to twenty acres of prime real estate, the wall on one side butting up to the forest, the long gravel driveway leading out to the main road into the village. In between the school building and the back wall were acres of well-manicured lawns, garden beds with perennials and flowers, several neatly trimmed bushes, and in the middle a large formal garden with almost maze-like box hedges and a variety of statuary. Most of it honored Rome and the Romans. Curvaceous women holding amphorae, Romulus and Remus as babes under the snarling protection of a wolf, Hercules capturing the Cretan Bull, Evander of Pallantium holding tablets as he brought the Greek pantheon, laws, and alphabet to Italy.
Crowley wandered among them all, pausing to look from time to time. He taught these myths and legends and more, and was fascinated by them. He couldn’t help wondering where the mosaic he had seen underground might fit into the stories.
He rounded a tall corner of jade green and saw Emma sitting on one of the low marble benches, a book resting on her knee. She seemed to have forgotten it was there as she stared out into nowhere, lost in thought. She jumped as Crowley stepped into view.
“Sorry, Emma. Didn’t meant to startle you.”
“That’s okay. I’m tired. Still haven’t really caught up from the late night.” She grinned sheepishly.
“How are you?” Crowley asked. “Other than tired.”
Emma shrugged. “I’m fine, I guess.”
“Still a little spooked?”
“Yeah. But perhaps we got it wrong?” She made the suggestion into a question, like she wanted Crowley to reassure her.
He wanted to do just that, but had received different spooks of his own earlier in the day and felt discomforted. “Regardless,” he said instead. “You’re safe now.”
“Yes, Sir.” She stood, turned to leave.
“Hold on a moment, do you mind?”
She turned back to him, brow furrowed.
“What do you know about Ludus Historia?” he asked.
She frowned. “It’s a boring club for the rich boys.”
“Rich boys like Tommy?”
Emma nodded. “He and Chas mention the club all the time, but they never really say anything.”
“What do you mean?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “Like, they’ll share an inside joke and when we ask what they mean, they say ‘the club’, all mysterious, like it’s a secret and we’re not supposed to know. Then they flash that stupid sign.” She made the heavy metal sign of the horns and Crowley frowned to see it again.
On a hunch, he sharply asked, “What do you all get up to at the Leaping Hound?”
“Nothing, really,” Emma said reflexively, then turned beet red, realizing her admission.
“I found your beer cans in the church yard.” Crowley lowered his voice. “Look, I’m not out to get any of you into trouble. But part of my job is to keep my students safe, and I take that very seriously.” His heart raced, his mind dredging up old memories, mostly of failure. His old commanding officer yelling in his face, You made that choice did you not, Crowley?
Emma wilted beneath the intensity of his stare, mistaking his pain at the memory for anger at her and her friends. She looked around, then said, “To be honest, we rarely ever go into the pub. We have a friend in the village who gets us beer and cigs, but that’s all. We don’t cause any harm, Sir, I promise.”
“Who did you meet from the village last night?” Crowley asked. He remembered the two sets of footprints leading back to the lane, running the other way to the rest.
Emma shifted her feet, clearly uncomfortable.
“You can tell me,” Crowley said. “I won’t tell anyone else.” He wondered who she was afraid of upsetting.
“I know we’re not supposed to hang out with village kids,” Emma said. “But Tommy has a girlfriend from there, and Nats is seeing one of the village lads.”
“Right,” Crowley said, gently, his tone leading her. He didn’t really see the problem.
Emma swallowed. “I mean, no one minds about Nats, and her family is all cool, but if Tommy’s dad knew he was going out with a village girl, he’d go ballistic.”
Crowley nodded. There it was. For all his talk of this village being the best one, Philip Arundel didn’t want his son running around with the common folk. “So, who’s Tommy seeing?” he asked.
“Her name’s Katie.”
“Is she connected to the pub?”
Emma shrugged. “Nat’s boyfriend, Marcus, gets us the beer. But Katie’s lowlife brother hangs around The Leaping Hound all the time.” She shifted again, clearly concerned she’d already said too much. Crowley still didn’t quite understand her discomfort, but maybe it was as simple as rich family politics. Before he could ask more, Emma said, “I really have to go, Sir.” She turned and hurried away.
Crowley strolled back towards the school, not really sure how much more he’d learned. He needed time to try to put the pieces together, but he wasn’t certain any of the pieces he had would fit into a bigger picture.
He bumped into Beth Morgan, who narrowed her eyes when she saw him. “You look like you lost ten pounds and found a penny,” she said.
“Walk with me a minute?”
As they walked across the lawns under the autumn sun, Crowley summarized the day’s events, laying out all he’d seen and done. He finished with the conversation he’d just had with Emma and said, “What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think about any of it,” Morgan said. “But I’ll tell you what. You go and see what more you can find out about the pub. Egerton’s words strike me as worth following up. In the meantime, leave the history club to me.”