In the Lap of the Gods 14

Once they had gone the dining room erupted into a cacophony of catcalls and taunts, everyone delighting in the misfortune about to befall the terrible trio. All thankful it wasn’t them on the receiving end. The three boys made their way through pushes, shoves and jeers from senior boys guiding them none too gently towards the door and the fate that was waiting for them beyond. The student body delighted in this type of exciting episode in their normal boring day.

The Head’s office had typical dark stained wood wainscoting and then yellow ochre paint to the ceiling. Adding to the bleak atmosphere was heavy wooden shelving containing heavily bound books. All the cupboards had darkly depressing varnished doors. The large desk in the centre of the room was of oak hardwood that seemed to be carved out of a single piece. One shaft of watery sunlight from a high window seemed to split it in half. Too much brown, too little brightness, Steve thought. Behind the desk sat a fat man who was not jolly at all. His haircut was short-back-and-sides coupled with a crew cut that made his head look a lot like an upside down hearth brush. It gave the appearance of a Mohawk. His jowls hung heavy and combined with his neck to cut into the reversed white minister’s collar. Massive shoulders merged tree-like into a combined chest and stomach and he appeared to be made out of one solid piece of timber like the desk. As he stood, the ceremonial master’s black gown completed the picture of a malevolent black triangle supporting a tuft of grey hair on top.

“So two have become three now have they?” It was a rhetorical question aimed at the three defenceless rabbits caught in the cross hairs. “And you are the smart Alec from London I’ve been hearing about. A troublemaker from week one. Well you’ve certainly found your level with these two.” The Headmaster moved from behind his chair and looked down with distain on the three culprits. “You know the drill you two. Let’s show the new boy how it’s done shall we?” another rhetorical question. Steve wanted to say, ‘No, let’s not’, but held his tongue. This man, even though appearing to be outwardly calm, was very angry and it wouldn’t do to antagonise him.

“Treadray you’re first. Bend over boy and touch your toes!” the man-mountain commanded. Treadray shuffled to the corner and bent over. “Touch your toes I said.” The cane appeared from nowhere hidden in the depths of his gown and was on its way before Treadray could bend any further. Four strokes were administered within a few seconds and Treadray hit the carpet writhing in agony. “Get up and get out before I give you any more!” thundered the Head becoming red in the face. Steve was worried that he was just warming up. “You next Noble. Let’s see how you like a bit of the old bamboo across your backside.” And with some sort of manic delight he administered another four strokes in quick succession. Noble took the first two without crying out but a mournful groan accompanied the third and fourth which sent him stumbling to the door tears streaming down his face. Meanwhile Steve’s legs had gone to jelly and his face ashen. He’d had the strap before but never a caning. “Now it’s your turn Morgan. Not a coward are we?” He said dragging the torture out even further.

“No Sir.”

“I beg your pardon? How dare you answer me back boy! Don’t you dare speak to me! Speak when you’re spoken to!” He looked hard at Steve, eyes narrowed as if challenging him to go further. “As soon as you joined these two I knew you were a troublemaker right from the start,” the Headmaster hissed.

“I’m not Sir, I just didn’t realise it was out of bounds.” The man in front of Steve distorted into a crimson mass of shaking flesh waiting to explode. His cheeks puffed out and his eyes burned with a loathing that was almost palpable. It looked to Steve as if he were about to have an apoplectic fit. No one had ever answered back to the Head before, let alone contradicted him.

“Get over there boy and touch your toes! I’m giving you an extra cut for insolence!” he yelled. And before Steve could protekstovi, the cane had already swung high. Following the deadly whispered swish there came an almighty kraaak as the first cut bit deep. The second landed right on top of the first and sent spasms of electrifying pain pulsing across Steve’s backside. His body went rigid and, before he had too much time to recover, the third and fourth strokes had landed, criss-crossing the first two. Each stroke had caused Steve a large intake of breath and his eyes shot open in disbelief of the pain. He straightened up but his head was forced down again by a large meaty hand pressing on his neck and, while being held there, the fifth whack was delivered across the other four. Pain jangled every nerve in his body as he was pushed out the door to stumble down the steps into the willow tree across the path. Every instinct told him to scream in order to alleviate the pain that was wracking his entire frame.

“And let that be a lesson to you all!” roared the Headmaster glaring at the miserable three as he stood framed in the doorway. The first two had their eyes cast down but Steve continued to glare back in pure hatred maintaining the stare for as long as he dared. It hung in the air like a malevolent spirit. So far in his short life three men had let him down and he was not going to be let down again. 

(You really need to read all the chapters to get a feel of the whole story!)