And then the thought occurred to me that perhaps the thing that I’d been hoping for ever since that first Briefing had just been handed to me on a plate—a weapon to use against him. Do I need a weapon? The fact that I reacted so quickly to the idea suggests that perhaps I do. I tried it on for size, like an unexpected new hat, and found that it rather suited me. Who would have known it? That Straitley, of all people—the rock of St. Oswald’s; the loyal arm, the stone and mortar of the School—should have looked inside himself and found an assassin looking out?

An assassin. How melodramatic. And yet, how curiously apt. What was it the Chaplain said? This Head fails, the School goes down. That, of course, must not happen. But last year, a solitary Mole demonstrated with what ease a stone can bring down a giant. And St. Oswald’s has weathered storms before. The old ship is a survivor. Harrington and his posse are nothing but suited privateers, stripping her of everything that might still be of value.

A little thing. That’s all it was. But I’d thought the man impregnable. Now he has shown his underside, and for the first time this term, there is hope. Shakespeare’s Caesar said it best: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Well, it’s never too late to change. The underling has seen the light. Harrington and I are at war, and I mean to bring him down. And if St. Oswald’s goes down with him? But that won’t happen. The Chaplain is wrong. The old frigate has survived too many storms to be wrecked by a cabin boy.

She will survive. I will survive. Ad astra per aspera.

Chapter 9

9

September 27, 2005

My form was rather subdued today. Allen-Jones is still suspended in the wake of the nail-polish incident, and the chemistry of the whole group is different without him. His influence, though not what you’d call disruptive, is certainly tangible, and in his absence, the rest of my Brodie Boys were unusually silent. Sutcliff and McNair are on report, which means that for every lesson they have to produce a card that the relevant Master has to sign, with space for comments on appearance, behavior, and punctuality. No boy likes being on report, but today I thought I sensed something more; a silent resentment in their eyes, as if they felt I had let them down.

Something has to be done, and fast. But Harrington is untouchable; hedged about by his deputies, he has no obvious weaknesses; his prejudices kept well under wraps. Except for that anger. But what good is that? And how can I use it against him?