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Sing, Muse, of the Glory of Bertram.

The rosy dawn had just parted the bedroom curtains, waking Bertram in a most unwelcome fashion. Jeeves clopped into the room, looking highly disgruntled, and placed a perfect cup of tea on the bedside table.  

“Jeeves! I say! What is that awful noise?”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I fear I must tender my resignation.”

“What?” Bertram boggled at the manservant, “Whatever for?”

“It appears that I have angered the gods and been transformed into a Centaur, sir. I am most embarrassed to be so exposed.”

“You are most well endowed, Jeeves. I say, that is most impressive, what?”

Jeeves flushed. “Sir!”

“I, er, sorry Jeeves, that was not terribly preux. But really, by jove, I've never seen such a... endow-whatsis.”

“I am suffering from the most horrible urges, sir and must beg leave to go to Mount Olympus and plead my case.”

“None of that, Jeeves. I will accompany you and speak on your behalf. No. None of that soupy look. It is my duty. And besides, I believe you will want a blanket or somesuch to cover your exceptionally fine, erm, manly parts.”

“Sir!”

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It all started, as such things do in the life of those who work for one Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, with an ill-arranged engagement.  It has often tried my resources and tact to manage Mr. Wooster's considerable personal attractions.  Women seemed to flock to his side and his most unfortunate taste in matters sartorial also drew the attention of men with certain proclivities.  

We had embarked on an our around-the-world cruise, not because I had requested it, precisely, although that was an element in my master's decision. I must confess to have rather manipulated matters on my own behalf. However, the true reasons far as I could tell, was to escape the attentions of yet another young woman thrown into his path by Mrs. Gregson.

Of course, my young master caught the eye of any number of young persons.  However, I had not anticipated that the goddess Athena might be among them. 

He was, as he would have said, ‘ankling’ about the Acropolis and the goddess appeared to him.

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I tripped over a bit of rubble or whatnot and suddenly, looking rather like Honoria Glossop arrayed for the Hunt Ball, was a beazel decked out in draperies and armed with a rather eye-popping bow and arrow. She took one look at Bertram, who froze like a fox under the eye of the aged r., and then she let forth a peal of rippling laughter that like to have flayed the skin from young Wooster.

“I am Athena, the Virgin Goddess of Wisdom.”

“What ho!  Bertram Wilberforce Wooster at your service.”

“I find you pleasing, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster At Your Service and I will consent to be your wife.  My father, Zeus, will confer immortality upon you and we will live together forever, eating ambrosia and consorting as lovers.”

“I say, what?”

The goddess explained again, clarifying the bit about ‘consorting’ which previously had been rather through a glass darkly.  And ought to have remained that way. Brrr. Bertram was ready to make like Balaam’s ass except that one does not want to be uncivil.

“Frightfully conscious of the honor and all that,” stammered young Wooster.  The beazel was not listening, however, and had begun to pet Wooster lovingly.

“You appear mentally negligible, but that can be remedied. Yes. We will begin by reading the works of Aristotle.”

Bertram nearly gurgled self to death, when luckily this Zeus blighter showed up, looking rather like a dyspeptic Sir Roderick Glossop, and took a dislike to the young master. “Athena, I am shocked at you. This one is so pale and scrawny. What about the more robust one who accompanies him?”

“Father! This is just like you. First that awful Odysseus, so greasy about the neck… Oh! And Married! And now this gimlet-eyed stuffed frog?!” Wooster developed a sinking sensation in the middle.  They were discussing Jeeves.

“He is handsome an hard-working and intelligent,” thundered Zeus. Athena made a sort of snoring noise. "Athena, has someone put some sort of a spell on you?" Then some chap with a giant hammer came and they had a bit of a game throwing lightning bolts about, which was topping, although Jeeves had to run up and carry me out of the way.

“See!”  said Zeus triumphantly to his daughter, brandishing a lightning bolt at Jeeves.  “and loyal and brave.”  I clutched at my loyal valet for dear life.  Athena rolled her eyes.

“Bo-ring. The slim one is adorable. Besides, I am intelligent, loyal and brave enough for two, father. Please grant me the Wooster. You promised I could have the next one that didn’t faint or wet himself or scream and try to run away.”  The Wooster pipes refused to function, but I say, wet himself? What type of rotters had this beazel been pursuing? Although I did blame myself for not thinking of the scream and run away wheeze."Stop treating me like a child, Father."

Zeus pointed at Jeeves imploringly. “But Athena!” The poor bloke seemed rather gobsmacked at the whole wheeze…Jeeves, that is.  He generally oozed off when the quality came in, and I must admit that even Wooster was a bit awed by the whole shebang.

She folded her arms and tapped her foot meaningfully. “And do it properly…immortal and always young and beautiful, and impervious to hurt and harm and illness and hunger and thirst, and can glow in the dark and see through walls and conjure up things he needs at will, beautiful singing voice, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound and breathe underwater and talk to fish and…something special.” Here the goddess gave me an appraising look. “Oh, and make him at least twice as intelligent as he is now.”  She gnawed her lip.  “That must be enough to find at least an average intelligence in there somewhere.”

“Oi!”

Zeus frowned.  “I’ll go with five times to be on the safe side.”

Jeeves and I tried to turn tail and flee, but it was no use.  Zeus shrugged and touched me with a lightning bolt and Wooster became immortal. Bally painful.  It was like drinking one of Jeeves’s special morning mixtures while in a flaming oven, but multiplied by a factor of whatsit.  I was still clutching Jeeves, and the lightning bolt touched him too and he became immortal as well, thank goodness. Athena and Zeus were still quarreling and we slipped away.

 ****

That wing-footed fellow, Hermy, felt for our plight and helped us get back to the ship.  His friend Polly, rather decent chap, what, came and introduced himself and so did a jolly hunchbacked fellow covered with burns.  They made quite the splash at dinner and then Jeeves made us all b and s’s and we had a grand time singing comic songs and tossing cards into one of Hermy’s winged shoes. Then they told Jeeves what had really happened, that the two of us were immortal and all the other things, but that something else had happened also, something they had never seen before. They snickered a bit amongst themselves, but foreign chaps are often a bit silly.  

That night in the cabin, we both started to give off a faint pink glow.  Bertram boggled.  Jeeves was not amused.

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Mr. Wooster was kind enough not to mention the way I had tricked him into going on the around-the-world cruise, but I do blame myself for the circumstances that led to these unforeseen adventures.  He took matters rather well, and was merely amused at first by the pink glow that emanated from our immortal flesh after dark, until he realized what it meant.  I had not fully understood the extent to which he shared my feelings, and it was with some relief and some apprehension that we embarked on a very different type of relationship than heretofore.

Of course, we underestimated the wrath of the gods….

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Wooster reeled into the cabin at eleven, glowing faintly pink about the edges, to find Jeeves, g-ing f. p. about the e.s. himself, ready with the heliotrope pajamas. 

An improving book lay on the side table, neatly marked where Jeeves had left off.  I noted with some trepidation that it was written in Latin, which did not bode well for the conversation. Since the immortality wheeze, his vast brain was truly alarming in its power.  He’d read through all the technical manuals and enhanced the engine’s fuel efficiency when he got bored one afternoon. Thankfully, now that we could speak to fish, he’d switched the diet or I do not know what Wooster would have come to. As it was, I could bally well understand the types of ethical theory and why they were all rot—dashed unsettling.

The pins had gotten pleasantly wobbly—thankfully that Athena beazel had not thought to prevent me from getting drunk—and self tipped a bit and Jeeves caught me. The p. glow about the slender limbs brightened in intensity and deepened to a soft rosy color.  

“Jeeves?” The bean spun a bit. “Whatsit?”

Jeeves flushed slightly and the p. glow deepened and mellowed further. Wooster felt a bit of a stir in the trousers and my g. went a deep, ruddy color.  How embarrassing.  I nearly collapsed with mortification, but then I noticed that Jeeves’s g. was behaving similarly. Wooster refrained from examining the Jeevesian trousers, which would have been terribly not preux.

“Indeed, sir.” He said, helping me stand on my own.

“We’re in this together, Jeeves,” I said, taking the Jeevesian paw. “You can tell how I feel even without this ruddy glowing, I suppose?”

Jeeves paused and seemed to ponder something. “Let me help you to bed, sir. I feel unequal to discussing this just yet.”

We stumbled into the bedroom and Jeeves battened all the windows and other hatches, and then in the light of our g.s., he started to help me divest the corpus of the splendid raiment. Something came over self, seeing the manservant in that red-rosy glimmering light and somehow the lips found their way to his delicious mouth. The e.s. met and he kissed me back, then pulled the willowy form in for an embrace. He was shaking like an aspen, and I hastened to reassure him that all was well. Sadly, this came out as more of a gargle than a whatsis.

“Sir, I am feeling somewhat apprehensive,” he murmured. “I am frightened at all that I am feeling, what you might expect of me.” Wooster nearly melted with affection for the chap.

“I don’t mean to pressure you, what? Perhaps we could just snuggle?”

We had an eternity, after all. He looked at me for a long moment, and stroked the golden hair and nodded. We settled into the bed in our underthings, and kissed and snuggled, then kissed a bit more before we curled up to sleep together.

It was rather topping, especially with all the excitement, and I found it quite comforting to have a quiet conference with him all snugged up in the covers the next morning. I was dashed anxious about how Aunt Agatha would take this whole immortality wheeze. He let me conjure up the fragrant eggs and b, but he did the tea and then whipped the eggs and b into a fried state since Wooster had only managed to pull up the raw articles. He glowed very brightly when he mussed the golden locks and kissed me and thanked me for being kind and gentle with him, and I felt less bally useless.

Chapter Text

Bertie

We met quite a number of other immortals as we went along on the around-the-word cruise. Some fellow with a dog’s head and a beazel with a cat’s head, and another chap who could grow another head and breathe fire, which lent a corking touch while singing “Forty-seven ginger-headed sailors.”

The fire-breathing fellow also had a nice set of thunderbolts. He was a splendid pal and showed me how to toss them.  He challenged me to a target match and he won the first two and then we drew on one, but he beat me in the end by two tosses in the last go-round. Corking competition, what?  He welcomed us to come back any time so he could give me some pointers. 

Jeeves had biffed off and memorized the contents of libraries here and there and learned to read the strange writing on the monuments. In India, we met a bird named Thor, who was a Viking or somesuch and put us up for a deuced splendid club, where there was lovely mead and simply topping singing.  He waved aside all of Jeeves’s objections on the matter of being a valet, and his pal Loki seemed full of hints as to how we could get rid of our pink glow.  Wooster rather liked the glow, though, once we learned to control it.  Dashed handy when reeling home after a horn too many of the old mead, what?

Meanwhile, that beazel Athena was getting deuced pipped. Not that one could blame her, being separated from her love by force of parent and whatnot. Apparently, she looked high and low for us, but that Zeus chap had set it so that as long as Jeeves and I were glowing for each other, she couldn’t see us. That Loki blighter had a bit of a thing for her and helped her find us.  Blasted ugly scene, what.  

Jeeves

The goddess Athena was really not to be trifled with, and mature reflection made me realize that simply sidling off under the protection of Hermes and Apollo might not be adequate to effect a complete escape from her matrimonial intentions toward Mr. Wooster, uncharacteristic as they were of a goddess of her stature and usual dignity. Of course, Lady Florence Craye and Miss Honoria Glossop also lost their usual composure when engaged to Mr. Wooster, and I wrongly assumed that a goddess would more easily shake off his influence. Mr. Wooster had curled up under my chin in his endearing way and I was uttering sweet nothings to him when she and Loki burst into the stateroom, closely followed by the ship’s purser, who was intent on getting them to sign the guest register. The goddess was rather nonplussed when the ship’s captain came to side with the purser and neither of them took any notice of Mr. Wooster’s nor my own state of dishabille, although we were dressed only in our underthings. Apparently modern bureaucracy is not yet known on Mount Olympus. Fortunately, Zeus himself was very much against Mr. Wooster’s potential union with his daughter and sent the winged horse Pegasus to carry us to see him and several hippogriffs to help us with the luggage.  Thankfully, they chewed up several of Mr. Wooster’s more revolting ties.

-The Catalogue of Ties should appear here, but was eaten by a hippogriff-

The Lord of Olympus met us in a private chamber where he supplied us with brightly colored togas and cloaks and fed us with ambrosia. One of the nymphs took a liking to Mr. Wooster and slipped him a package for later, in case he got hungry.

“Now, Jeeves,” said Zeus firmly.  “I am counting on you to prevent this marriage. I cannot do more than aid you. I do wish I knew what brought this on. She is a wonderful girl and has never acted like this before.”

“I thank, you very much, Mighty One,” I replied, trying not to let my lips quirk as Mr. Wooster exclaimed excitedly about his toga, which he described as ‘bally topping,’ much to the confusion of the nymphs.  It was a handsome shade of deep blue that set his eyes off marvelously. Mine was a coquelicot hue. The nymphs seemed to appreciate Mr. Wooster's physique.

“Yes, what?” said Mr. Wooster. “Dashed spiffing, that is, ah, splendid raiment then, and whatsit.”

“Five times wasn’t enough to come up with an average intelligence, then?” asked the Father of the Gods.

“He only seems mentally negligible,” I said. “It’s simply his manner of speaking.”

“Er ah, whatsit?!” said Mr. Wooster, jumping nearly into my lap.  A nymph had put her hand into his toga in a most brazen fashion. “I say! Nolle prose-thingummy and all that.” The Lord of Olympus raised an eyebrow at me. The nymph pulled back when Mr. Wooster reached for my hand and we started to glow more warmly.

“Ah,” said Zeus thoughtfully. “You do love each other. I had wondered when you saved him from that thunderbolt.”

Mr. Wooster and I had not yet declared ourselves to each other, and in fact, we had limited our amorous activities to snuggling and kissing. I flushed a most unbecoming shade of red. “Jeeves!  Are you quite all right?” said Mr. Wooster, putting a most welcome protective arm around me. “That was not preux, Jeeves. I am sure he didn't mean it."  He turned to Zeus.  "Of course, you have been most topping overall, old egg, I say, what?” He turned to me and pressed my shoulder. “It’s quite all right, Jeeves, I’ll protect your honor.”

One of the nymphs started to cry. “How unfair!  I was supposed to get the next pretty one!”

The others were quick to correct her. “Athena would skin you alive. She's never liked a mortal before, just that stupid demigod who wet himself. And then one of us would be stuck with that other one. So serious!” Another nymph made a loud snoring noise and they took it in turns to look serious while their fellows giggled. It was a most unsavory display.

Zeus regarded us, his lips quirking, as Mr. Wooster, oblivious to the nymphs, patted me reassuringly. “We are British,” I explained. The Lord of Olympus then looked at us pityingly, muttered something about tweed, and took out his thunderbolts again.

“Your nobility impresses me, Wooster,” he said, touching me with a thunderbolt and then Mr. Wooster. “I grant you each…another surprise.”

“I say!” said Mr. Wooster. “That tingles, what?”

“Very well, then,” said Zeus. “I’ve done what I could to shield you, and no doubt Athena will have some work shaking that Loki excrescence. He seems very taken with her, but she is far too wise and intelligent to be taken in by mere trickery." He raised an eyebrow at me again. "Good luck.” 

I took the opportunity to tell the heartbroken nymph and her friends that we had met some very attractive single immortals during our stay in Mesopotamia and that they had been most interested in hearing about opportunities to meet young persons of their description.

Mr. Wooster regained favor with the nymphs by commenting in some confusion, “Certainly, Jeeves, but those blokes would have been happy with much less attractive young persons, what? I’m sure they’ll be too awed to even speak with this lot of beauties.” We were nearly flattened in the ensuing stampede.

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Book 6: Of the excellence of Anatole, prince among chefs and how the Jooster accidentally made him a god

Our return to London was largely uneventful, and we rode in the chariot of the sun god, or as Mr. Wooster calls him, 'good old Heely.'  Hermes and Apollo became somewhat regular visitors to the flat and enjoyed an occasional evening out at the Drones Club with Mr. Wooster. 

One evening, Athena's attraction to Mr. Wooster explained itself. Apollo became rather overfamiliar with Lady Florence Craye, who slapped him quite soundly.  At Apollo’s request, Eros shot D’Arcy Cheesewright—who Apollo thought was the most atrocious fellow—with a love arrow bearing Lady Florence’s name.  No one had the heart to explain that he and Lady Florence had had a series of understandings in the past.  Their wedding was a splendid event. I took the opportunity to ply Eros with vintage cooled in the delved earth, kindly decanted by young Ganymede, and he told me how he had thought it funny to follow Mr. Wooster about and shoot the most intelligent available woman with an arrow.  "Too bad it wears off when they meet someone they really love," he observed before collapsing in an inebriated heap on the floor.

Another evening, M. Anatole came to the flat before accompanying me to an evening of cribbage at the Junior Ganymede Club.  Mr. Wooster was happily surprised to see the chef, who kindly prepared his famous timbale de riz de veau Toulosiane. In return,Mr. Wooster brought out a plate of ambrosia (I am still not quite certain how he managed this as mortal china should not be capable of holding it), which Anatole sampled before I could stop him.

Jeeves was bally well pipped when I bunged up that abrosi-whatnot and shared it with Anatole, but dashed if I am going to live for all eternity without another of his dinners, what? Anatole seemed unimpressed with the ambrosia, which he thought had too many marshmallows and not enough mandarin segments. It would take him a while to realize that he was immortal and then he made me give some ambrosia to Seppings, too, when they returned with Jeeves from the club. Wooster had not realized how chummy they were. Jeeves just sighed and covered his face with his palm and then made sure we ate the rest of the ambrosia, and I promised never, under any circumstances, to leave it lying around where any of our aunts or the rest of the Drones could get hold of it.  McIntosh found a bit stuck under a table leg when I was cleaning up some I spilled and lapped it up before I could stop him. He glows pink whenever I pick him up or Jeeves sneaks him a treat under the table when he thinks I am not looking, which is quite touching.  Thankfully, I will have some time yet to explain the immortality wheeze to Jeeves.

Of course, the advent of a new immortal at Brinkley Court caught the attention of Athena, who came looking for us.  She got distracted in the library, though. Even Zeus was blasted pipped until Anatole made him a really lovely entrecote de marchand, and then Z. said that Wooster had a point. Seppings made an immediate hit with the nymphs, who liked his wibbly-wobbly belly.  I have a feeling that if they were not equally taken with Anatole, there would have been some trouble, but it all seemed to work out rather well for them.

All this time, Jeeves and I slept together and snuggled and kissed, but Wooster found himself wanting more.  It would not be preux to pressure Jeeves, though, so I employed the stiff upper lip and muscled through as best I could.  Of course, there was a need for quite a number of cold baths.

The real difficulty arose, like the rosy-fingered dawn, when Jeeves awoke one morning in the shape of a Centaur, which brings us back to the beginning of our tale.  

Book 7: Of the Centaur Jeeves and How Zeus Suggested a Quest

The rosy dawn had just parted the bedroom curtains, waking Bertram in a most unwelcome fashion.  Jeeves clopped into the room, looking highly disgruntled, and placed a perfect cup of tea on the bedside table.

“Jeeves! I say! What is that awful noise?”

“I fear I must tender my resignation.”

“What?” Bertram boggled, “Whatever for?”

“It appears that I have angered the gods and been transformed into a Centaur, sir.  I am most embarrassed to be so exposed.”

The Wooster e.s. were a round as saucers at the sight right before them. “You are most well endowed, Jeeves.  I say, most impressive, what?”

Jeeves flushed. “Sir!”

“I, er, sorry Jeeves, that was not terribly preux.”

“I am suffering from the most horrible urges, sir and must beg leave to go to Mount Olympus and plead my case.”

“None of that, Jeeves. I will accompany you and speak on your behalf.  No.  None of that soupy look.  It is my duty.  And besides, I believe you will want a blanket or somesuch to cover your exceptionally fine endowment.”

“Sir!” Bertram was about to say ‘dash it,’ and explain that he was dangling himself right at the eye level as it were, but tears of shame started to well up out of him.

“There, there,” Wooster crooned, “Kneel down, so I can snuggle you a bit, Jeeves.”  He knelt down as directed and allowed me to hug and pet him while he had his cry out. “Will you let me cover you up now?”  His eyes were like damp violets as he nodded. “Good.”  I whipped up a lovely pin striped garment for him that covered up all his bits. “You look quite nice, Jeeves.”

“Thank-you, sir, but I am having the most terrible urges. I could die of mortification.”

When Wooster ankled out to the front room, there was a large pile of…well, I conjured it away and never mentioned it, of course.  Bertram was pipped that anyone would do this to Jeeves, attaching a horse to the back of him that he had no control over. The fellow deserved his dignity after all. Of course that bally Athena popped in, looking very smug.

“You’ll have to choose now,” she said.  “Either spend an eternity with me as my consort or Jeeves stays a Centaur forever.”

“Madam, I implore you not to speak nonsense to Mr. Wooster before he has had his tea.”  Jeeves had clopped in, looking rather displeased. “You could not possibly have perpetrated this atrocity.” Athena scowled and stuck out her tongue. "Has Eros shot you with another arrow?"

“Oh dash it!” Jeeves raised an eyebrow at me. “That Dionysis fellow beat me at darts last night.  He cheated what, and I caught him. Did he do this to you?”

Athena laughed merrily.  “Yes, he did…because I asked him to.”

Jeeves had grown very still, and we both ignored the goddess.  “Did you make a wager with him?”

Bertram toed the carpet with a sheepish slipper. “I am not sure.  He gave me some topping vintage and I don’t remember. Please forgive me, Jeeves.”

“Please forgive me, Jeeves,” Athena mimicked, trying to get our attention. “You are pretty, Wooster, and you will make a fine consort, but you would have to stop speaking....” The Wooster ire, generally so recumbent, had gotten itself well up and shook off the tentacles of Morpheus. The mouth was just opening to issue forth a cutting remark like unto those delivered to Stilton Cheesewright, when Jeeves clopped into the kitchen and came out a moment later holding a book and followed by a very irate Zeus, by Jove.

“Athena!” he thundered, which was very effective as the lights went on and off and the furniture all jumped about. He shook an arrow at her meaningfully. Athena suddenly remembered a very important appointment in the Brompton Road and biffed out, looking decidedly spooked.

Zeus turned back to us, looking rather like a cat that ate the canary. “Dionysis could never have done this.  He can only make mortals into fauns and neither of you is a mortal any longer.  You should seek out the King of the Centaurs and see what he has to say about this.”  He winked, then grabbed a couple of slices of buttered toast and one of my whangees and oiled out, munching happily.

Book 8: Of their Sojourn in the Forbidden Forest

Jeeves and I stood after Zeus left, looking at each other, glowing pinkly. “Please forgive me, Jeeves.”

“Zeus said it was not because of Dionysis,” said Jeeves flatly.

“I er, ah,” stammered Wooster. “But you seem so pipped with me.”

He looked up and the tears welled up again. “I am simply so ashamed that you have seen me so exposed and untoward.” He was right. I’d never even seen him burp and he’d, well, you know, accidentally on the sitting room floor without even realizing it. I had him kneel down again and gave him a nice snuggle and told him that he was beautiful and topping.

Finding the King of the Centaurs proved to be a difficult task.  We began with a small colony located in rural England rather close to Brinkley Court.  Mr. Wooster consented to ride on my back, making only the proviso that he be permitted to wear his ‘fruity’ new toga. 

“I will consent to this only if you agree to change into a suitable Harris tweed if you wish to enter any pubs or other respectable establishments.”

“Dash it, Jeeves! What is the use of this whole immortality wheeze if I cannot dress like that lovely Hermy fellow.”

“Lovely, sir?”

Mr. Wooster blushed and poked the sitting room carpet with a toe in a most becoming fashion, and I had once more to suppress my carnal lusts. “Not like you, ‘lovely,’ of course, Jeeves,” he said.

“Please, sir,” I said finally. “This is already very difficult.” I trembled in every limb.

“Only if I might have a nice snuggle, what?” His blue eyes, so like cornflowers, were nearly my undoing, but I managed a chaste snuggle.  It was highly satisfactory, but the urge to rip Mr. Wooster’s clothes from his body and have my way with him persisted. “Good, that’s settled, then.  I will deliver the dog McIntosh back to Aunt Agatha and we can be off.”

The dog McIntosh sat up at this juncture and then gave a yap and let off a pink glow as Mr. Wooster picked him up and handed him to me.  I could feel my eyes narrow. “Has he eaten any ambrosia, sir?”

“Ah, whatsit, Jeeves?”  Mr. Wooster pinkened about the ears, a sure sign of prevarication, and feigned interest in a pile of ties that still bore the beak marks of the hippogriff called Buckbeak.  We had agreed to give them back to the creature in exchange for some directions.

“Sir?”

“Oh, rather, Jeeves.  Some fell on the floor, what, and he nipped up a bit before I could clean it up.”

Visions of immortal rats swam before my eyes. “Sir, please tell me that you did not put any ambrosia in the trash can or down the sink.”

“Er, actually, since McIntosh had already had a nip, I gave him the rest, what?  He rather liked it and it seemed cruel to deprive the poor tyke.”

Lady Worplesdon, thankfully, did not notice the change in McIntosh, even the bright pink glow he gave off at the sight of her, and we were on our way to a location called ‘the Forbidden Forest.’

These Centaurs are a rummy lot.  Dashed exciting and fun at times, running through the forest and whatnot, but a bit dreamy about the e.s as well.  Jeeves was ribbed a fair amount about his trousers and letting me ride on his back, but a rather sizeable fellow came up and took a good, long look at us, and then turned to the others.

“Please, Bane, he did not know. He is not one of us at all. This is some type of enchantment.”

“Are you certain, Firenze?” asked another Centaur.

“Yes, Magorian, I am certain.”  They all stopped and looked up at the sky.  “Venus has been unusually bright,” they all agreed somberly.

Jeeves perked up at this and they all began to discuss the stars in a languid and easy fashion that even Wooster could follow. Then we made a fire and burned mallowsweet and some herbs. The flames made interesting shapes. “It looks rather like that Marduk fellow when he has had too much mead, what?” I commented, just in the way of making conversation. 

The Centaurs nodded and one nudged Jeeves and said, “Your mate sees well.” Jeeves colored deeply and we glowed very brightly in the firelight. Then Jeeves looked at me, and I could see the affection smouldering in his eyes.

“He more than meets the required standard,” said Jeeves. I did not know where to look. Never had young Bertram been so pleased and embarrassed all at the same time.

Book 9: On Why Jeeves Became a Centaur and all the things he and Bertie could do to remedy the situation

We stayed in the Forbidden Forest for some weeks. The Centaur chaps somehow convinced Jeeves to get undressed and go about with nothing on, which I found, frankly, quite corking.  He is simply ripping. Before that, they coaxed Bertram from the raiment and insisted that I wear only a sort of brief toga made of furs that left the chest mostly bare. Jeeves made a strange noise and ran off into the woods the first time he saw me in it.  Hermy and Polly would have snickered at our confusion, but the Centaurs only nodded at each other gravely and looked back up at the stars. 

One of them followed Jeeves while another showed me the stars and taught me some rather soulful songs. They said I had a fine voice and I admitted it was because of Zeus and they said he could not have made it so fine if it had not been quite good to begin with. Then that Bane bloke showed me how to use a bow and arrow, which was rather spiffing. He said I made a decent show of it for a human and even let me try to shoot while riding on his back. Corking.

Jeeves was a long time getting back and the Centaurs showed me where the unicorns lived and left me alone there so I could see them. The colts came up first to sniff me and we had a rather nice time playing gentle games.  I wove some rings of grass and flowers and they tried to catch them on their horns or noses. It was getting dark when they looked up in alarm at something across the field and then returned to what they were doing. I glanced over and saw that it was Jeeves, watching us.  He came and played with us and we curled up to sleep together and in the morning the unicorns were gone and we went back to our friends.

The Centaur Magorian, on seeing my response to Mr. Wooster’s dishabille, kindly undertook to explain some matters. “This garment is not becoming to a Centaur, Jeeves,” he said gravely. “You have taken on our form and should do so with respect.” I blushingly disrobed. “In these matters, Centaurs take what they want, often quite roughly.”

“I could never treat Mr. Wooster in that fashion,” I gasped.

“But you want to enjoy his body,” said the Centaur.  I hung my head.  “There is no shame in the desire to consort with your mate.  Perhaps he would like to have such relations with you, but I understand it is the way of your kind to consent to these things.” I agreed. “He will surprise you when the time comes.”  We spoke at great length then about many matters of carnal lusts and the earth and our places in it and then the stars and portents. I was awed and humbled by Magorian's immense wisdom but he said these feelings were common among the young.  "And you are very young."  I could not but agree.

Magorian led me to the edge of a clearing and I saw Mr. Wooster there, playing with a group of unicorns. “They only come to the pure of heart, Jeeves,” he said.  “Pause for a moment and then go to him.”

My feelings of shame were great, but I did as Magorian asked.  The unicorns looked at me in some alarm, but when Mr. Wooster began to glow pinkly at the sight of me, they allowed me to join their games. My heart lightened considerably.

We spent all our time with the Centaurs and there was little opportunity for a snuggle or any kissing, but somehow all that mattered was that we were together, learning. It reminded me of the days when I studied for my Scripture Knowledge prize, except that no one rapped my knuckles. Jeeves was very kind to me, bringing me flowers and cups of tea and letting me ride on his back when he galloped around like a mad thing with the other Centaurs. We visited the unicorns once in a while as well, but they do not talk and it was rather like having McIntosh for the afternoon.

One day, Magorian sent us off into the woods alone and Jeeves settled onto some moss and asked me to sit by him. He snuggled me against his bare chest, which was delicious and then he cleared his throat to explain something.

“It appears that I myself have caused this transformation, sir.”

“Whatsit?”

“I had been suppressing my more carnal feelings for you, and it appears that Zeus has given us the power to transform ourselves in order to satisfy our physical desires.” This seemed rather sensible, but I did not understand how making Jeeves into a Centaur would work, since they were generally accounted very lustful and uncontrollable. “Yes, I had been struggling not to…attack you.”

“But, Jeeves, I would have been quite willing to see to you. More than willing, in fact.”

He blushed and hid his face, and Bertram realized something suddenly about why the unicorns were willing to play with us. “I can show you, Jeeves,” I whispered in his ear. “Well, er, a bit, anyway, but we can figure out the rest together, I daresay.”  And suddenly I had transformed into a shower of sparking rain and then he was just Jeeves again and we were both naked and rolling around in the moss together. I had never experienced anything so oofa-cum-spiff. 

The Centaurs gave us a few days to work everything out of our systems and then they adopted us into their herd. We lingered for a few more weeks to look at the stars and learn about their portents, and they told us we were welcome back any time. They laughed at us when Jeeves made us put on tweed suits for the trip back, but it was all in good fun.

Book 10: Of the Aftermath

The Goddess Athena eventually lost interest in Mr. Wooster. I must confess that the Centaur Magorian played a role in this most happy event, by teaching a number of nymphs how to sing “Forty-seven Ginger-Headed Sailors.” The nymphs, being silly creatures, regaled Mount Olympus with this ditty for many months, until Zeus insisted that Mr. Wooster teach them a new song each month until they came upon one he enjoyed. It seems that the Goddess of Wisdom does not appreciate comic songs and Mr. Wooster’s propensity for transforming even the most romantic love ballad to comic effect troubled her deeply, as did Zeus’s strong preference for the song “Good Night, Vienna.” Eventually, the goddess Artemis came forward and admitted that she had fed Athena a love potion to see if it would work before using it on the object of her desire. I understand that the goddess of the hunt spent many painful hours having her own arrows removed from a rather sensitive region of her anatomy.  Athena was quite impressed with my aim and swiftness, a result of many long hours of tutelage by Mr. Wooster.

For myself, these adventures have remained a puzzle. Certainly, I am very glad to have come to a better understanding of the fondness I long felt for Mr. Wooster, although I admit that the prospect of an eternity without our other friends and associates at times frightens me terribly.  Mr. Wooster’s caring concern, however, is more than adequate consolation for this discomfort. His chief regret currently is that Zeus strictly limited his access to ambrosia after the dog McIntosh worried his ankle.  I suspect my young lover entertained plans of conferring immortality on his Aunt Dahlia and perhaps his long-time friend Oofy Prosser. He has expressed an interest in remaining at home and spending time with his friends and family as long as he will have them.

Anatole and Seppings have resumed their duties at Brinkley Court, only spending their free weeks at Mount Olympus.  Mr. and Mrs. Travers have remained oblivious to the frequent incursion of nymphs onto the grounds.

Marduk has become a most welcome visitor in Berkeley Mansions and has shown a pronounced talent for flipping playing cards into a top hat.  Apollo and Hermes are more proficient at tossing items into a flying sandal, and Mr. Wooster simply enjoys the company.

The Centaur herd have proven to be a most welcome group of comrades and teachers in many matters, although Mr. Wooster has been most forceful in teaching them how to be more “preux” toward the fairer sex after hearing some of their shockingly rough talk. Most sagaciously, he enlisted the very willing help of a number of naiads and dryads and instituted lessons in such skills as “moonlight stroll,” “begging on bended knee,” and “tender cuddles.” The picture of Mr. Wooster patiently correcting a Centaur for tossing a nymph over his shoulder with intent to ravish and brandishing a bunch of wildflowers was deeply amusing. His charming innocence in such matters melts my heart.

Jeeves has settled down a great deal since the Centaur problem, and we sleep all nestled together and, er, whatsit, in the most wonderful way. I know he is a bit unsettled by the whole immortality wheeze, but we have both been making more friends as we go. We met a rather clever chap called Quetzy-whatsis-thingummy and Ganny-she-something who likes to have discussions with Jeeves and Polly and Hermy on the odd afternoon, but I think that Jeeves has also decided to stay with his current pals and family as much as possible for now. I’ve been given the assignment to train McIntosh not to howl or scratch at the door when we have a bit of a tumble because Jeeves does not want him watching us.

Book 11: On the frisky Jooster and how the dog McIntosh learned a new trick

It was just a year after that bloke called me Jeeves’s mate that I woke up to the sound of my erstwhile manservant singing one of those soulful Centaur songs.  The e.s fluttered open and I smiled as I saw him there, glowing softly in the early morning light in the shade of deep pink that meant we were going to have quite the lovely tumble indeed.

“Morning, Reg,” I said, reaching up to touch the side of his face.

“Good morning, my love,” he replied, bending down to kiss me. “I’ve made something for you.”

It was a ring, handsome and plain on the outside and inside carved with runes that said I was his soul’s companion.  The tears welled up as he slipped it on my finger and asked me to be his. “Of course, Reg,” I said. “I wish I knew.  I would have made a ring for you as well.”

He folded me in his arms and kissed me tenderly and long. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Ah,” I said. “Will we have a nice tumble to celebrate?”

His eyes darkened and his glow went a very deep red. “I had something a bit more romantic in mind than just a tumble.”

“That would be corking,” I said.  “And then we can have a nice tumble afterwards?”

He laughed and mussed the golden hair and we had a tickle fight and I did the sparkling shower all over him and then we had a nice tumble the way I like in the morning when I am feeling all frisky and whatnot. We saved the something more romantic for the evening after dinner. I thought the bones would melt out of me, it was so delightfully topping.

“And when I give you your ring, we can do that again?” I asked dreamily.

His eyes went all dark and misty and he pulled me to him and said, “Of course, but perhaps we should practice once more.”

“First tell me that you love me.”

“I love you.”

I was simply delighted with him. “I love you, too.” And then I crawled all over him, covering him with kisses and we twined up all naked together and kissed some more and had a practice as Jeeves wanted.

But the best part was when we were just about to fall asleep and he nuzzled the golden hair and said, “Thank-you so much for teaching me the way.”

“Well, you did work out most of it for yourself.”

“Only with your help.  Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We nestled together and started to doze off. And then McIntosh gave a happy little yip and we realized he’d learned how to walk through doors. Jeeves scolded and Wooster stammered, but in the end we all three curled up together and fell asleep like a happy family.