## Danegeld (M/mmmmmmmmmmm)

This account takes place near the end of my second form year at a prestigious Australian boarding school. I was a precocious child and two years younger than the norm, and so was still only eleven years old at this time.

Only a few days before this account begins, I had suffered the indignity and pain of a public beating inflicted in front of most of the school. That punishment was inflicted for being involved in a cigarette smuggling enterprise and for refusing to name others involved who were bullying junior boys. I was held to be complicit in all their crimes - and I was - but I had done worse than the Masters knew. I had blackmailed the boy behind the operation - a Prefect who would have certainly been expelled if I had given his name.

And, strangely - very strangely - I found myself feeling a great deal of guilt for what I'd done. I didn't normally feel much guilt at all, when I misbehaved - but this beating had really left a very serious impression on me (in more ways than one). The message that I had to behave or suffer truly adverse consequences was finally starting to sink in. If I didn't behave, then I would be punished - and I did not like what they would do to me at all. It had taken nearly two years but it began to sink in that there was an easy way and a hard way at this school - and the hard way was dreadfully hard. But that wasn't the source of my guilt - it was a reason to change, in and of itself, but the guilt was deeper. After my beating, the Matron - a lady I knew who liked me, and who I knew was very kind had told me a few home truths. She'd told me that my mother would have been disgusted at what I'd done - and I started to realise that Matron was probably right.

I had committed a serious offence against the school rules, and I had been beaten for it - and as far as the school was concerned, this left the matter closed, so there was no impediment to me participating in the ceremonies on Remembrance Day. Whatever faults that the schools methods of discipline may have had, their major saving grace was that they ended a matter quickly. Once you were caned, the slate was wiped clean - until the next time.

Remembrance Day was an important day in our school calendar. We were a traditional school with traditional ideals and one of these was that we honoured our war dead. The school had a fine war memorial, and every year there were numerous ceremonies there - Remembrance Day was one of the two most important. And this year, it was especially important to me, because the ceremonies would honour the dead of our most recent war - our current war - Vietnam - and my father had fallen there.

The ceremonies were very moving, even to an eleven year old mentality. They were somber but not particularly sad, and they brought back to me great memories of my father. I cried a bit, but mostly I felt glad - that so many people stood to honour him.

One thing we boys all noted, both on ANZAC Day, and on Remembrance Day each year, were how so many of our Masters wore medals. The men who taught us - it was hard for us to see them as anything other than our Schoolmasters - but on these days you saw a hint of something more. A hint of their past. One man in particular is of relevance to this account - the Mathematics master, Mr Morris. A stern, severe man who rarely smiled or cracked a joke, but simply taught his classes in a quiet, highly efficient manner. As I took up a wreath to lay it for my father, I stumbled slightly just next to him and he threw out an arm to catch and steady me. His chest was adorned with medals - including a Military Cross - and I saw it and I looked up into his face. And for a second there, just for a second, I saw a half smile, and perhaps a glistening in his eyes - and then it was gone.

I thought nothing more of it until our Mathematics class on Monday. It was Mr Morris' custom to give his class a test at our first class each week - and to cane those boys who achieved below eighty percent. We were the first stream in Mathematics, and if we studied properly, there really was no reason we should ever score that low. But it was still something that most of us regarded as a little unfair, and something that most people fell foul of at least occasionally.

"Good morning, boys."

"Good morning, Sir."

"Maths test - and for today only - and I stress, for today only - there will be no penalties for anyone who does poorly. Well - not unless you're trying to win the Mathematics prize - your marks will count for that. Which reminds me - Rysher, I want to see you in my office at the end of this class."

I had only once before been in one of Mr Morris Monday classes where he had announced no penalties would apply for poor performance on his test - and I had wound up getting six of the best on that occasion. It had been our first class for the year - my first class ever with Mr Morris - and I had got a perfect score on the test. No boy had ever scored a perfect score on his first test for the year (a test that included material we were due to study over the course of the year and which we had not yet been exposed to in class) - and Mr Morris knew from my performance the previous year that though I was good at mathematics, there was material on that test I should not have known. Unfortunately I had access to the test before hand and he decided I had cheated - and he had thrashed me for it.

I hadn't cheated. I had been so eager to do well in his classes that I had asked the brother of a friend with whom I had stayed to give me special tutoring. But though I protested, he decided the evidence was against me, and he caned me - three strokes for cheating and three strokes for lying.

And as I sat in this class, once again with a test in front of me which he had said would attract no penalties - but knowing that he wanted to see me during recess - well, I was very nervous. Very nervous indeed. All through that class.

And when the bell went at the end of class, I followed him to his office - he opened the door and invited me in and gestured to the seat in front of his desk, while he sat down behind it.

"I need to have a very serious conversation with you, Rysher."

"Yes, Sir."

"I added up the cumulative marks yesterday and I have to tell you that you are very close to clinching the Mathematics prize for Second Form."

I knew I was first in the Form in Mathematics - our ranks were posted weekly - so I wondered why he was telling me this. But he went on.

"What I mean by this is you are so far ahead of the rest of the Form that I can't see anyone overtaking you unless you have a disaster during the final examination. Now I'm telling you this for a reason, Rysher. And that's because I do not want you to feel that there's any reason at all for you to cheat."

"Sir?"

"Rysher, you're going to take the prize unless something very strange happens. I am just concerned that you might give into temptation again as you did at the start of the year - and I don't want to see you wasting an entire years work. I know that last year, I told you you had to be first to get into the top stream - well, your position in top stream is totally safe, but if you're worried about being first, don't be - you almost certainly will be, so don't fall into the trap of cheating again, am I clear?"

"I didn't cheat, Sir." It just burst out.

"I beg your pardon, Rysher?"

"I didn't cheat, Sir."

"Oh, Rysher, we went through all this at the start of the year. I know you cheated, boy, and you were punished for it, so let's not have this nonsense."

It would have been smart to leave well enough alone. But I couldn't. "I did not cheat, Sir."

"Don't lie to me, Rysher, or you won't like what happens - and I really don't want to open up my suspicions about last years exams as well..."

I jumped to my feet. "I didn't cheat, Sir. I really didn't-"

"Good God, boy, do you want a thrashing?" He stood as well with his lips pressed together and his eyes glaring.

"I swear on my father's life, I didn't cheat, Sir."

He stared at me. He sat back down. Slowly I did the same. He was silent for a moment. Then he spoke.

"I taught your father, Rysher. Did you know that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"A fine young man. Honest. Decent. A credit to this school, even before he left and..."

"Sir?"

"Nathan... your father was a good man - a good boy, as well, when I first knew him."

"Yes, Sir. I know he was, Sir."

"You swear on his life that you didn't cheat? Do you understand what that means, to swear like that?"

"Yes, I do, Sir."

"When a boy lies he disgraces and dishonours himself - and that is bad enough. But if you swear something on your father's life and his memory, then if you swear falsely, you place disgrace and dishonour on him. And you do swear this?" His voice was very quiet, and he looked down at his desk.

"I do swear it, Sir."

"Say it fully."

"I swear on my fathers life and his memory that I have never cheated in any test, you have ever given, Sir."

"That is an oath I must accept. I apologise Nathan for doubting you. I apologise most humbly for caning you." His voice was very quiet. So quiet I felt I was intruding just by being apologized to.

"That's all right, Sir." I tried to make light of it, to lighten the atmosphere. "Plenty of times I haven't been caned, Sir, when I should have been."

"That doesn't make it right."

We sat there in silence.

"May I go, Sir?"

"You may go, Rysher."

And my school life went on from there. We were coming up to the end of the school year and our masters were driving us all hard in all our subjects - but those of us who were contending for academic prizes were being driven hardest of all. I was in the position of being close to the top of my form in nearly all my subjects - close enough that I was a contender for many of the prizes and I wanted to win a few. When you won a prize at the school, you received a book - and all of us who were possibilities to win prizes were asked to write down the titles of any books we were interested in. I had recently discovered 'Biggles' and I loved 'Biggles' books and there seemed to be hundreds of them - and so I listed a number of titles that I most wanted. The more prizes I won, the more books I would receive, and I was really hoping for at least four prizes because there were four books I particularly wanted.

I knew the Mathematics prize was almost certainly mine from what Mr Morris had told me. I had it on similar authority that I was virtually certain to win the Science prize (I was first in both Science and Mathematics). I looked at our form rankings and, of other subjects, I was ranked most highly in History and Geography (where I was second) - and so I decided to make those my focus in my studies for the end of year examinations.

But there was one other thing to be considered - to be eligible for a prize, a boy had to score at least 70% in Scripture, and if there was a tie for any prize at all the boy who scored highest in Scripture would receive the prize. Some boys in my classes were brilliant at Scripture - they'd had it drummed into them from a very early age and could recite whole segments of the Bible verbatim. While my parents had raised me to be reasonably spiritual they hadn't worried at all about me being word perfect on the King James version. I did fairly well in Scripture because I was blessed with an exceptional memory - but I often had difficulties because I'd been raised reading a variety of Bibles and they differed slightly on details. And my main opponent for both the History and Geography prizes - the boy who was first - well, he was a Minister's son, and he was brilliant at Scripture. If it came to a tie on either prize, he would certainly win by the tiebreak rules. This boy's name was Joseph Tee - he was in a different House to myself, and while we weren't friends, we had been on the Rugby team together and we got along quite well - so in a spirit of sportsmanship I let him know that I was going to try and beat him for the History and Geography prizes. He took it in good humour, and wished me luck.

And so I settled down to study hard in History and Geography and when I had a little time, to study scripture as well.

Now, our history program progressed as we went through the school - we began with the Ancient civilizations in First Form, and would reach the modern Age in our final year. Second Form was largely spent on the Dark Ages and up to 1066 and all that, and was actually a wonderfully exciting period from the perspective of a young boy - lots of battles, lots of bloodshed.

I wanted the history prize - and the history master, Mr Whelan, was a reasonably approachable fellow and so I went to him to ask him for advice.

"Sir, may I see you for a moment?"

"Of course, come in Rysher. What can I do for you?"

"Sir, I want to see if I can win the history prize - and I'm just wondering if there's anything special I should be studying?"

"You want me to tell you what questions I'll be asking?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not, Sir! But if you can give me any pointers fairly..."

"I have mentioned things in class, you know, Rysher."

"Well, yes, Sir." I hesitated but decided to try disarming honesty. "But Sir, I haven't always paid attention - and I want to try and put that right."

"I see... very well... most of the examination will be the work we have covered most recently and that we will be covering until the end of the year." He picked up a ledger from his desk and consulted it. "Well, your performance on my class tests has been good - but so has a number of other peoples'... you might want to focus most heavily on the Danelaw onwards - make sure you've look at St Edward, and also at the Danegeld - your general knowledge is good, but there will probably be a question on either Edward or the Danegeld to sort out the wheat from the chaff - that might well be the question that decides who gets the prize."

"The Danegeld, Sir?" the term meant nothing to me.

"Look it up - I've already given you enough help."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir."

I shot off, and just by chance almost immediately ran into Joseph - and it occurred to me that in all fairness, he had just as much right to know what I had been told. I wanted to win the history prize - but somewhat to my surprise, I realised that I wanted to win it fairly.

"Hey, Tee."

"Yes, Rysher?"

"I've just been asking Mr Whelan about the history examination... and he let me know that there might be a specially hard question on either St Edward or Danegeld. I just though I'd let you know."

"Cheers, Nathan. I appreciate that."

"Do you know what Danegeld is?"

"Of course. Look, I've got to go. Thanks again."

So he knew what the Danegeld was - and I didn't. As soon as I could, I headed to the library, and I looked it up.

In brief, the Danegeld was a term applied to a ransom paid to the Vikings by the English in order to avoid war. Put simply, the Vikings blackmailed the English with the threat of war. I spent a couple of hours reading everything I could find about the Danegeld - including a poem of that name, written by Rudyard Kipling. And as I read that poem - all about the risks of giving into blackmail - I became quite uncomfortable. Especially at the last stanza.

"We never pay any one Dane-geld,
No matter how trifling the cost;
For the end of that game is oppression and shame,
And the nation that pays it is lost!"

As I mentioned at the start of this account, I had recently blackmailed a senior boy - a boy who I had quite admired, in fact, after I had discovered he was involved in smuggling cigarettes into the school. He'd given into my blackmail in order to avoid disgrace and almost certain expulsion.

I'd never really thought that something like blackmail could have such a history behind it - and the concept really grabbed me. And in one book, a heavy history text, I found a very clear one page summary of all the incidents surrounding the Danegeld - and I copied it down to study it in more detail later.

Over the next few weeks, as the exam approached, I read that page time after time - committing it into my memory for the examination - but also simply because it spoke to me so deeply.

As we came up to the last days before the examinations I was confident that I would do as well as I could hope in the examinations I was most interested in. I hoped to win the prizes I was after - and I had almost given up on studying for the Scripture examination. I knew Tee would beat me in that - so I just had to hope I could beat him in the other examinations we were competing in, so the tiebreak would never be needed.

Our exams were held over a period of a bit more than a week - two exams a day for a week, with one on the Monday after. It was a very hectic time, but by Friday I was feeling quite relaxed - all I had left to sit was the scripture examination and that didn't didn't worry me at all - I knew I would do reasonably well in it, and that's all I wanted to do. So on Friday afternoon, after my geography exam, I headed down to the beach for a swim - others were doing this as well, it was a warm day - but many were up at the Houses studying so the beach was less crowded than it normally would have been.

I swam out into the sea, and after a few minutes, Joseph Tee swam up beside me.

"Thanks for telling me about the history exam question, Nathan - you were right!" The final question on the examination had basically asked us to write out a detailed description of the history of Danegeld - and that was one reason I was feeling so confident about the examination, because I knew I had well and truly nailed that question.

"Fairs fair - just sharing the information."

"You're right - fair is fair - so for the Scripture exam... you want to learn Matthew 5: 1-12, and Psalm 91... word perfect."

"All right! Look, can we swim in, I have to write this down?"

We did so and I ran up to where I had put my clothes and hunted around for a pencil and a scrap of paper. "Dash it, I don't have any paper."

"Just take this." He handed me a sheet of paper, and I looked at it. And realised it was the examination paper.

"Jesus! Where did you get this?"

"Never mind that, just take it, so you know what to learn..."

"It's all right, I've got it now. I don't need the paper - you should probably burn it..."

"Yes, I guess you are right."

I dried myself, dressed and headed up to the House. I hadn't looked at the paper for more than a second... with any other subject it wouldn't really have mattered much - but I remembered - Matthew 5: 1-12, and the 91st Psalm. As I walked up to the House, I racked my brain to try and remember what they were - and found that I did know - the Sermon on the Mount, and the Soldier's Psalm. I knew both well... but was I word perfect? I really wasn't sure.

I didn't want to cheat. I really didn't. But I knew what was on the paper now... and I had planned to do a little study over the weekend. If I now didn't study... well, I might do worse than I deserved. But if I did study, how could I avoid focusing on what I knew to be on the examination...

I went into the prep room, and decided to test myself. I would write out the relevant texts from memory, and then see how I would do.

And so I did this, I wrote them out at my desk and then went and got my bible and compared what I had written. I was word perfect on the Psalm - but not quite perfect on the Sermon... but I would be now, because I knew my mistake... this was a nightmare. I didn't want to cheat.

How could I resolve this? I sat there - and the only solution I could come up with was that when I went into the scripture examination on Monday, I would write out the Psalm perfectly - and would write the Sermon as I had initially incorrectly written it.

But I was annoyed - because it was possible I would have studied that, and learned it. In all honesty, unlikely - I most likely would have spent a little time studying things I didn't know at all, rather than things I knew quite well. But it was possible.

On Saturday afternoon, the results of our Geography examination were posted - and I found I had come out on top in the examination. But whether I was first in the subject or not hinged on how far ahead of me Joseph was in the work up until the examination and all I could work out was that it would be close.

The History examination marks came out on Sunday morning and I walked down to the where they were posted to see how I had done. But there was no mark posted for me - just a note from the deputy Headmaster, Mr Keanes, telling me to see him immediately. Joseph had scored 92% - high, but not as high as I would have thought he would have done. But I had no mark recorded.

I ran across to the old building - Mr Keanes, our Deputy Headmaster was a fearsome man, the most feared disciplinarian in the entire school, and he was also head of the History department and one didn't keep him waiting. I knocked on his door.

"Come in."

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Well, no, I don't particularly want to see you, Rysher, but I'm afraid I have to. I always deal with cheating, personally."

I froze. Cheating? All I could think of was the scripture examination... it was set by the Chaplain and I didn't think it had anything to do with Mr Keanes... and we hadn't had it yet.

"Come here, boy."

I walked over to his desk - he thrust two sheets of paper at me - a sheet of foolscap with my essay on Danegeld from the exam and a typewritten piece of paper.

"This is the answer sheet for the examination written up by Mr Whelan. And this is your essay. Word for word identical."

He stood up and walked over to the door which he shut, and pulled his cane out of the umbrella stand it was kept in. "Take off your jacket, and get over to the chair."

"But Sir..."

"Jacket off. Now. Or it will be worse for you."

I pulled off my blazer, trembling, "Sir, I can explain..."

"You can explain cheating, can you?"

"I didn't cheat, Sir! I just read the answer so often that it must have stuck in my head!"

"So you did read the answer? How is that not cheating? Get over here."

I walked slowly over to the armchair he was standing next to, cane in hand. I was shaking like a leaf and stammering. "P-p-please S-s-s-sir."

"Be silent, and lower your trousers." Oh God, he was going to flog me - and I feared nothing more in the world than the idea of being flogged by Mr Keanes.

"You have to listen, Sir!"

"I do not have to listen, Master Rysher. I do not have to listen to lies and excuses. You've been caught, boy, doing something very mean - so why don't you start redeeming yourself by taking your punishment?" He looked at me - and his face softened very slightly. "Nathan - you've been caught cheating, and you're going to pay for that. All the denials in the world won't change my mind. Now get your trousers and your underpants down and we can get this over and done with as soon as possible."

My fingers fumbled with the buttons on my shorts. "That's better, Nathan - be brave and take what is coming to you." I lowered my shorts and raised my hands to the waistband of my underpants and began to pull those down as well. He spoke.

"Normally I would give a boy six of the best for what you've done - because I'm going to have to fail you as well - but this is the second time, you've been caught cheating so I am going to flog you."

I froze. "Sir..."

"You're doing so well, Rysher. Don't spoil it."

"But S-s-s-ir." I had begun to cry now and tears were streaming down my cheeks. "I haven't cheated before."

"Don't lie to me, Rysher - some things get reported - I know you cheated on a Mathematics test - Mr Morris told me."

"But he was wrong, Sir!"

"Bend over the chair."

"He said he was wrong, Sir. He apologised!"

"Oh really? When did this happen?"

"A few weeks ago, Sir. Oh please, Sir..."

"Very well, I will check. If Mr Morris confirms what you have to say, I'll treat this as a first offence."

He walked to his study door, and opened it, as I stood in the middle of the room, behind an armchair with my short trousers and my underpants around my ankles. "You - Hopkirk - can you run along and find Mr Morris and tell him I need to see him on a matter of some urgency? He may be at his house."

He left the door open and left me standing there, walked over to his desk and put the cane down. Then he sat down behind it and began writing something on a piece of paper. I stood there in silence, for a moment, then dared to speak.

"M-may I pull my pants up, Sir?"

"Will you give me any trouble when I tell you to pull them back down?"

"No, Sir."

"All right, then."

I readjusted my clothing and stood where I was. It was at least ten minutes before Mr Morris arrived - he lived in one of the Master's houses behind the main school.

"What can I do for you, Keanes?"

"Well, Morris, Master Rysher here tells me that you cleared him of cheating - that you admitted you'd been wrong to cane him for it. Is that the case?"

"Yes, it is. Why? What's he done now?"

"I've caught him cheating on a history examination - well, it looks like this may be only a first offence, then. Are you sure he was innocent the first time?"

"He gave me his word of honour, on his father's life. That's good enough for me."

"And for me as well, then. All right, Rysher, you can bend over as you are."

I began to bend. Then stopped. "Sir, I didn't cheat this time either, and I swear to that on my father's memory as well."

I was terrified at this moment. I really was afraid of the cane, and I was very afraid of Mr Keanes as well.

And I was afraid that if they didn't take my word, then I would be regarded as the lowest form of liar - as one who would disgrace and dishonour his own father rather than face the consequences of his action.

But my voice was clear, despite my fear. I forced it to be.

Mr Keanes spoke first. "Master Rysher... do you have any understanding of what you are saying, boy? Do you understand the implications?"

"I do, Sir. If I swear an oath on my father's life and on his memory then if I am lying, I disgrace him as well as my self. I know that, Sir. And I do swear. I didn't cheat."

The two Masters looked at one another. Then Mr Keanes looked back at me.

"How do you explain this then? This extraordinary coincidence?"

"Mr Whelan told me to especially study the Danegeld, Sir. So I did. And I found a book in the library and I think he must have copied the answer from that, the same way I did."

"So you knew what would be on the examination, fairly?"

"Only for a couple of questions, Sir, but yes, I did."

"And you learned an answer off by heart?"

"I didn't know I had done that, Sir."

"Mr Whelan will confirm what you have said?"

"I'm sure he will."

"And could you find this book in the library?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very well, then. Go up to the library..."

Mr Morris cleared his throat. "Mr Keanes - he's given us his word. It's either good or it's not."

"You're right. All right, Rysher, I accept your word of honour. Thank you, Morris - you can go. But there's something else I need to discuss with Rysher."

The Mathematics Master left - and Mr Keanes told me to sit down.

"All right, Rysher - your word is good, so I won't cane you for cheating because you say you didn't do it. But I want you to answer another question for me - on your father's honour. There's something I know you did that you shouldn't have and I need to clear it up."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Why did you cover up for Alisdair Morahan?"

My blood ran cold. Alisdair was the prefect I had blackmailed, the conniving bully who I thought the school regarded as a paragon of virtue.

"Sir... I..."

"Honesty is the only acceptable response here, Rysher."

"Yes, Sir... I refuse to answer, Sir." I began to shake again.

"Rysher - I've been trying to catch Morahan out all year. Now I know you covered up for him, and I just don't know why. Now if he is threatening you, please tell me. I want that boy - I want to punish him for what he's doing. But I can't without your help."

"He isn't threatening me, Sir."

"But he is behind it?"

"I r-r-refuse to answer, S-s-ir."

"If you don't answer I will cane you."

I closed my eyes as the tears welled up in them again. "Then, Sir, you'll have to cane me. Because I cannot answer your questions."

"I knew you were a coward, Rysher, and a liar, and a cheat." His voice was harsh, and tore into me. "But I was wrong on all those things, it seems. You're a brave boy - and an honourable one, as well. You can go. I'm sorry I threatened you with the cane - but I had to know."

I got shakily to my feet, and I walked to the door. Then I stopped and turned around.

"Sir, you were right. I am a liar."

He smiled. "Are you lying right now?"

"No Sir."

"Have you lied to me today?"

"No Sir."

"Then that's all right."

I left Mr Keanes study, and headed into the sunlight. I felt very confused. I was drained by the experience, but also quite happy, and just a little confused.

The following day, the Scripture exam. We all filed into a hall to sit this examination - and I was ready to carry out my plan.

But when I came to the questions, they bore no resemblance to those I had seen. In place of the Sermon on the Mount, we were asked for the story of the Good Samaritan - and in place of Psalm 91, they asked us Psalm 23 (which was probably the easiest Psalm they could have asked us for). I was hugely relieved - I didn't know the Good Samaritan word perfectly, but I knew I would be close - and I was sure I could get the 23rd Psalm right - this was an examination I could do well on - precisely as well as I deserved. And so I did my best.

But I wondered why I had been given false information - at first, I thought that maybe Joseph had deliberately lead me astray but one look at the sick expression on his face, convinced me that he had been caught out.

At the end of the examination, Mr Keanes walked into the hall carrying his cane, and joined the Chaplain at the front of the room. We all sat there looking at it as the papers were taken up.

"Some boys in this room had prior knowledge of the examination. They will have discovered that it did them no good - we count papers boys, so we know if one goes missing. Fortunately the substitution of a new examination paper means we don't need to fail anyone. But I am going to call upon those who saw the paper in advance to stand up now and face the consequences of their actions."

I took a deep breath and stood up. So did about three other boys - Joseph was not among them.

"I know some of you others saw it, boys - don't play me for a fool. Those who have just stood up honestly will get off easily - but if I have to start calling out names, the boys I call out will be very sorry indeed. So for your own sakes, stand up now."

Another half dozen boys clambered to their feet. Again, Joseph was not among them."

"Better - but not good enough. One last chance - if I have to call out a name, the boy concerned will find himself ineligible for any prizes - in addition to the caning I am already going to give him." There was silence in the room. "I will count to three. One... Two..." Joseph scrambled to his feet.

"Right - you four." He gestured with his cane at myself and the others who had stood up with me. "Come out here."

I was close to the front of the room, and I was the first to get to him. I felt rather ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Sir. But I only saw the paper and I wasn't going to cheat."

"I believe you - but I think I have to cane you this time."

"Yes, Sir."

He made us line up - and the pointed at me.

"Touch your toes."

I felt the cane tap on the seat of my shorts - then a pause, then a sharp crack of pain. Then another pause, and a second crack.

"Stand up. You - touch your toes."

It was only two strokes, but they were two good ones. All four of us were on the verge of tears when he was finished.

"Back to your seats. The next six - you know who you are - get up here now."

They got four each - four real crackers. And they were crying when it was over, though they were trying to hold it in.

"Tee. Come up here and face your punishment."

Joseph stood up very shakily. He was one of the best behaved boys in the Form and was rarely punished in any way, let alone with the cane. But he knew he was going to get it now, and I would have felt more sympathy for him if my own bottom hadn't been hurting.

Mr Keanes said something quietly to him and touched his arm. Then "Touch your toes." Slowly Joseph bent over and touched his toes - he was side on to us, and he was shivering slightly.

Mr Keanes took aim, drew the cane back and slashed it down. Joseph gave a yelp, but held his position. Mr Keanes took aim a second time and the second slash ended with a loud cracking sound, and a second yelp of pain. With the third stroke, Joseph stood up and his hands flew around to protect his bottom. Tears were streaming down his face. Mr Keanes gave him about ten seconds then quietly spoke to him. Joseph shook his head, and those of us at the front heard Mr Keanes answer. "If you don't bend over immediately, I will treat you as refusing a caning - and that means a flogging - on top of what you have already had. I know it hurts, Tee, it's meant to hurt. So I'm not going to stop just because it's hurting you."

Joseph bent over again, and Mr Keanes delivered the fourth and fifth strokes in rapid succession. But he had to stop when Joseph stood up again - and he was bawling his eyes out, and he turned away from us and I could hear him begging Mr Keanes to please stop.

Again, those of us near the front could hear what came next. "Tee - I've seen your marks - you're going to be Dux of the Second Form - but if you don't bend over right now and take your last stroke, that will not happen - because we will fail you in Scripture and that means you can't win any prizes at all. And think of what your father would say if you failed Scripture... now bend over and take what is coming, Tee. It's only one more stroke and you're home free.

Joseph reluctantly and I mean very reluctantly bent over. His whole body was trembling as Mr Keanes lined up the cane, then drew it back and brought it down across the boy's bottom with all the strength and force he could muster. Joseph screeched and stood up, his hands reaching around as if he could somehow tear away the pain.

"Form is dismissed - your examinations are over, boys. So go off and have some fun."

We charged out the door. I was feeling my caning, but a two stroke caning wasn't going to stop me participating in our end of examination celebrations. And most of us felt the same.

Tee was an exception though, and I saw him sitting by a tree watching us without joining in. So I went over to see him.

"Hi, Tee, come and play some cricket."

"I can't."

"Why not? Are you hurting too much?"

"Well, I'm hurting - but it's not that. Everybody knows I tried to cheat, Rysher. They all saw it."

"Yeah, they did, didn't they - but they also saw you take the caning for it. So that's all right. Nobody is going to hold it against you."

"I didn't take it well."

"No, not really - but we've all been there."

"I haven't."

"Well, no, but you've hardly ever been caned either. You'll get used to it."

"I hope not," he said fervently.

I won the prizes I wanted - but Joseph still won more and came out Dux of the Form that year. And as I saw him take his pile of books and look down at his parents, I assumed he thought the last stroke was worth it. But of course, I couldn't know.

The following day, after the Speech Night, our last day of school for the year, I was approached by Alisdair Morahan, the boy I had blackmailed. Under the terms of our deal, he still owed me forty dollars, and he pulled it from his wallet.

"You don't have to give it to me, Morahan."

He stopped and looked at me. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I can't tell on you now, and... well, I'm not sure I'm happy to take it."

"Why the change of heart?"

"Because... have you ever heard a poem called Danegeld?"

He looked at me and quoted very quietly "So when you are requested to pay up or be molested. Yes, I know it, Rysher."

"Well, I only just learned it after I was beaten, and it made me think. And..." I decided to be honest with him, and I don't know why I did. "You're a bully, Morahan, and you're not very nice at all - but if I blackmail you, what does that say about me?"

He turned red and I worried he would hit me. But he didn't. Instead he reached across and placed the two twenty dollar notes into the front pocket of my blazer. "A deal is a deal." He turned away, "Oh, and Rysher... remember this because it's probably worth a lot more than that money. Nobody can oppress you, or shame you, unless you let them. You make your own choices. Live with them."

Back to the index.