SINS  OF  THE  FATHER

 Written By

Karen Jean Kish

 

Fate has terrible power.  You cannot escape it by wealth or war.

No fort will keep it out, no ships outrun it.

 

---Sophocles

 

 

 

The tempest that sent the servants scurrying for cover in Torsun-Narr had nothing to do with the weather.  The gale force that stormed through the great hall was its owner...Baron John Mullens.   Experience had taught them to avoid their lord at all cost when he was in one of his moods.  Trailing a few feet behind him was his fourteen-year-old daughter, Alexandra, her cheeks stained with tears.

 

"Father, please let me explain....."

 

Mullens whirled around to face her.  "Enough, Alexandra!  We will discuss this later."  He had no intention of providing the servants with fodder for their mindless gossip mongering.

 

"But Father...."

 

"Not now!"  He clenched his teeth, sensing the little control he had left slipping away. He took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself.  "Alexandra, go to your chambers.  I'll be up to see you shortly and we can discuss it then."

 

She looked as though she were about to challenge him again, then thought better of it.   Her head dropped obediently.  "Yes, Father."  Wordlessly she turned and was halfway across the room when she broke into tears again.  Sobbing, she bolted from the room.

 

With an exasperated sigh, Mullens stalked across the cavernous chamber and into his private study where he kicked the door shut behind him.  Pent up rage overtook him.  He kicked over a table, threw the entire contents of his desk onto the floor in one sweeping motion, and sent several crystal goblets crashing into the fireplace.  Energy and emotion spent, he sank dejectedly into a nearby chair, cradling his head in his hands.

 

God's blood, how could this have happened?  How could he not have known?  He didn't like surprises and this one had thrown him completely off balance.    An hour ago his world had been perfect...but an hour ago he hadn't known that his daughter Alexandra was romantically involved with Cedric Grey, son of his archenemy Sir Thomas Grey.  Was this family to be the bane of his existence?  Mullens groaned as the knot in his stomach rivaled the throbbing in his head.  Never in a million years had he dreamt he would be faced with this dilemma.

 

He adored Alexandra.  She was the light of his life, his greatest joy.  There was nothing he would deny her----except this.  He brushed away the beads of sweat that had formed on his upper lip.  A hundred different scenarios raced through his mind ... a hundred different nightmares.  He groaned again as he reached for a nearby bottle of burgundy wine.

 

 

Cedric Grey sat at the small writing table in his chambers concentrating on the blank sheet of parchment in front of him.  He dipped his quill into the pot of ink and was about to mark the paper when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

 

"Come in," he invited distractedly.   He glanced up and blinked in surprise when his sister Eleanor entered the room.

 

"I just wanted to make sure you were still in one piece," she said with a smile.

 

"I don't know what you mean," he lied.

 

"Your little confrontation with John Mullens."

 

 His brow furrowed in annoyance, marring his exceptionally handsome features.  Damn!  Wasn't anything private anymore?  "How did you know?"

 

Eleanor's smile grew wider.  "Everyone knows.  It's the main topic of conversation among the servants."

 

Cedric swallowed hard.  "Everyone?  Even Father?"

 

"Not yet.  He's out riding with Lady Elizabeth."

 

Cedric relaxed noticeably.  "Well, nothing happened.  Alexandra and I were just talking when Baron Mullens showed up to take her home."

 

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, challenging her brother's story.  "What I heard is that you two were alone in the stables, and you weren't exactly engaged in---conversation."

 

"Nothing happened," Cedric stuttered nervously.

 

"Because Baron Mullens showed up."

 

A head popped around the corner of the door.  "No bruises?  No cuts?   No broken bones?"  Richard entered the room uninvited, shadowed by the imposing form of their eldest brother Armus.  "What about missing body parts?" he continued, casually hitching a hip over the corner of the desk.

 

"I hear that the Baron has petitioned the sheriff for your arrest," teased Armus, joining the good-natured assault on his youngest brother.

 

"NOTHING HAPPENED!!!"  Cedric insisted.  He was beginning to feel sick to his stomach.

 

Richard tsked sympathetically.  "Pity.   At least you would have had your memories to comfort you while you're chained to the dungeon walls."

 

"Dungeon?" Cedric managed to squeak.  "You think the Baron would actually have me thrown into the dungeon?"

 

"If he doesn't, Father will," Richard offered cheerfully.  He shook his head in disbelief.  "Alexandra Mullens.  What in the world were you thinking, Cedric?"

 

"Alexandra is a lovely girl!" Cedric proclaimed defensively.

 

"I'm sure she is," said Armus carefully, "but surely you're aware of the bad blood between our two families."

 

"That has nothing to do with Alexandra and me..."

 

"It has everything to do with the two of you," bristled Richard in exasperation.  "Baron Mullens is just looking for an excuse to tear this family apart."

 

"And you've just given him the perfect excuse to do it," reiterated Armus.

 

"What about Richard and Charlotte Wyatt?" questioned Cedric, referring to the romance between his older brother and the Lady Wyatt...despite an ongoing feud between their two fathers.

 

Armus ruffled Cedric's hair affectionately.  "You're a dreamer, little brother, if you think that a romance between you and Alexandra can breach the bad blood between the Greys and John Mullens."

 

Cedric watched pensively as his three siblings exited the room.  "We'll see," he whispered.

 

 

John Mullens had lost all track of time.  He had no idea how long he had been cloistered in his study until he heard a tentative knock on the door and Alexandra cautiously entered the room.

 

"Father?  I waited and waited... but you never came.  And you've missed the evening meal.  Are you all right?"  Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the overturned table and broken glass.  The immense stone fireplace that would normally be lit to take the chill from the evening air remained as cold and bleak as her father's mood.

 

Mullens smiled indulgently at his daughter, surreptitiously folding the letter he had been reading and replacing it in the ornate box it had come from.  He locked the chest unceremoniously and slipped the key into his waistband.   His actions did not go unnoticed by his daughter, but she sensed it would be wise to say nothing.

 

"I'm sorry, my dear," he said soothingly.  "Time slipped away from me."

 

"Can we talk now?"

 

"There is really nothing for us to talk about, Alexandra.  I forbid you from seeing Cedric Grey again."

 

"Father, you're being unreasonable.  Cedric is a very sweet boy.  He's very trustworthy and...."

 

"I hardly call sneaking around behind my back trustworthy, Alexandra...by either of you."   He eyed the young girl suspiciously.  "Just how long have you and Cedric been seeing each other?"

 

Alexandra couldn't meet her father's gaze.  Her head dipped remorsefully.  "Since the incident at the Duke of Arondales," she admitted, her voice barely registering above a whisper.

 

Mullens blanched at her words.  That long?  And without his knowledge?  How could he have been so blind?  He knew what needed to be asked and his stomach churned at the thought of it.  Still, he had to know.  "Alexandra, has..." he swallowed in embarrassment and fear at what he might hear.  "Have you been soiled by Cedric Grey?"

 

Alexandra blushed furiously.  "Father!"

 

"Forgive me, Alexandra, but I must know.  Has he..."

 

"No!  Cedric's attentions to me have been pure and noble."

 

The relief he felt was overwhelming.  He was almost able to breathe again.  He grabbed his daughter by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.  "I want you to promise me that you will never see Cedric Grey again."

 

"But why?" she asked plaintively.

 

"Because I said so, that's why!  Now promise me, Alexandra."

 

She bit her lip to keep from crying, but could not hide her trembling.  "I promise, Father," she managed.

 

Satisfied, Baron Mullens pulled his daughter into his arms.  All was right with his world once again.

 

 

 

The next two weeks passed relatively uneventful.  Alexandra filled her days with reading books, embroidering, and corresponding with her cousins in Scotland.  Some days she was even allowed to spend in the marketplace---under the watchful eye of her nurse.  The topic of Cedric Grey was never broached again and the easy camaraderie between father and daughter was in full bloom once more.

 

John Mullens stood on the battlements of Torsun-Narr, admiring the view and enjoying the gentle summer breeze that soothed his normally stern features.  He enjoyed these quiet early morning moments spent in solitude.  It had a calming, almost tranquil affect on him... and a disquieting one as well.  It was at moments like this he regretted not having someone special to share it with.  Only once had he shared that kind of bond with someone.  It had been years ago and far too brief to being paying such sentimental homage to...but the memories were seared into his soul for eternity.  Things would have been so different for him today if only she...

 

His sharp hawklike eyes scrutinized the figure of the courier in the courtyard below.  It was not uncommon to be receiving and sending missives, especially since Alexandra had begun corresponding regularly with her cousins; but there was something vaguely familiar about this particular courier.  It took only seconds before he placed exactly where he had seen the young man before... on several occasions.  Covington Cross.

 

Swearing an oath under his breath, he strode back inside with a vengeance, his blissful mood all but obliterated.   He could feel his blood boiling with each step he took.  He was such a fool to trust them!  With impeccable timing, he intercepted the servant that was about to enter Alexandra's room... letter in hand.

 

"I'll take that," he said icily, holding his hand out.

 

The maid looked startled and then flustered.  "Tis a letter for Lady Alexandra," she hedged.

 

John Mullens said nothing.  He just stared at the maid, his hand still outstretched.  Meekly she placed the message in his hand, curtsied, and scurried away.

 

Scowling, he tore open the seal and quickly scanned the contents.  It was a short note... but left no doubt that his trust had been misplaced.

 

Alexandra My Love,

       Meet me in the garden by the south wall at noon.

                                            Yours,

                                                  Cedric

 

Without bothering to knock, Mullens entered his daughter's chambers.  The pretty young teen was sitting at her dressing table brushing her long silky hair.  She looked up in surprise and smiled to see her father.  "Good morning!" she said cheerily.

 

"Is it?"  He waved the letter in front of her face... just out of her reach.  She paled in recognition and lowered her head, mortified at being caught.

 

"I'm disappointed in you Alexandra.  I trusted you."

 

"Father, I'm sorry.  Truly I am. But Cedric and I love each other... "

 

Mullens slammed his fist onto the table, knocking over the delicate perfume bottles that rested there.  "You will not speak his name in my presence...EVER!!!"      He strode to the door, but turned to face his daughter once more.  She was trembling and ashen-faced.   "You will remain in your chambers until I deem otherwise.  I suggest you use your time to contemplate the folly of crossing me."

 

He closed the door behind him, motioning toward a passing guard.  "Lady Alexandra is to remain in her chambers until further notice.  She is not to leave and no one is to enter other than to bring her meals.  Is that understood?"

 

The guard nodded and posted himself in front of the door.  Satisfied, Mullens walked away, a humorless smile plastered on his face.  He had an appointment to keep.

 

 

Cedric leaned against the massive oak and squinted up at the midday sun.  She was late.  Wasn't that just like a woman?  No matter.  It gave him time to rehearse the love poem he had composed for her.  Even he had to admit it was pretty bad, but Alexandra didn't seem to mind.  She adored him.  As far as she was concerned, any words that spilled from his lips were nectar from the gods.  Cedric frowned thoughtfully.  Maybe she had a hearing problem...

 

He straightened as he heard the rustle of grass and soft footsteps approaching.  Smiling, he stepped out from the harbor of the tree...and came face to face with his worst nightmare.  "B...B...Baron  M...M...Mullens !" he stammered.

 

The nobleman smirked.  "Expecting someone else?"

 

"I can explain."

 

The Baron held up the note Cedric had sent by courier earlier in the day.  "No need."

 

Cedric's shoulders slumped dejectedly as visions of shackles and cold stone walls passed before his eyes.

 

"I'm not going to warn you again.  Stay away from Alexandra."

 

"Baron, I have nothing but the utmost respect for your daughter, and I care for her very deeply..."

 

Hands clenched in frustration, Mullens took a menacing step toward Cedric.  It would be so easy to thrash him within an inch of his life... and he would be more than justified.  Judging by the way the youngest Grey stumbled backward, it was obvious the thought had crossed his mind, too.

 

Mullens stopped suddenly and gazed at the guileless boy who stood before him.  His dark ebony hair, the piercing blue eyes.... he was so like his mother it was uncanny.  He hardened his resolve and shook his head.   "There is nothing you can say that will change my mind."

 

"If you'd just give me a chance.... let me prove myself to you..."

 

"No."

 

Cedric looked desperate, confused and searching futilely for an answer.  "Is it because of my father?"

 

Mullens heart lurched as he looked at the youth.  He swallowed, the muscle in his jaw twitching ever so slightly as he quickly tried to suppress the anger that rose unbidden.  "Yes.  It's because of your father."  He crumpled the letter in his hand and tossed it at Cedric's feet.  "I trust we won't have to have this conversation again."  He turned and started walking away.

 

"Haven't you ever been in love?" Cedric called out after him.

 

It was fortunate that his back was to the youth and Cedric couldn't see the anguish on his face.

 

 

"And he didn't kill you?"

 

"Of course he didn't kill me!  I'm standing here talking to you, aren't I?"  Cedric was getting frustrated with the jibes of his siblings.  He had come to his brothers for advice and thus far had received nothing but ridicule for his trouble.  If he was looking for support, he certainly wasn't getting it from them.  They seemed to take delight in his misery.

 

Armus was just warming up in victimizing his little brother.  "Hmmm.  I would have thought that just short of killing you, the least John Mullens would have done was turn you into a eunuch."  He grabbed a bright red apple from the bowl in front of him, examined it for defects and then bit into it with a satisfied smirk.

 

Cedric frowned in confusion.  "A eunuch?"

 

"Don't ask," advised Richard.

 

"Still," Armus continued, finishing off the apple in three bites, "that would have fulfilled mother's dream of you becoming a cleric."

 

"True," added Richard.  I mean, since you'd be of no use to Alexandra..."

 

"Haven't you two ever been in love?" interrupted Cedric, becoming more annoyed by the minute.  "I mean deeply in love?"

 

"Of course," Richard admitted with a grin.  "Hundreds of times."

 

A sly smile of reminiscence spread across Armus' face.   He leaned back in his chair and nonchalantly cradled the back of his head in his hands.   "I remember the first time I fell in love ..." he paused when he glanced over to the corner of the room and saw his wife Meg standing there, hands on hips.  "...  was the last time I fell in love," he finished smoothly.

 

Grinning in spite of herself, she stepped forward and planted an affectionate kiss on her husband's cheek.  "Liar."  She straightened and then gave his earlobe a sharp twist.

 

"Ow!  What was that for?"

 

"For teasing poor Cedric so mercilessly.  Honestly, you two are worse than two year olds!"

 

"What did I do?"  Richard whined in protest.

 

Meg ignored her brother-in-law and turned to Cedric.  "Your father wants to see you in his study."

 

Cedric looked alarmed.  "What for?" he asked uneasily.  

 

"Well you won't know that until you get there, now will you?"  She nudged him affectionately.  "Now off with you.  It's not wise to keep your father waiting."

 

The handsome teen rose and shuffled to the door, trying to stall the inevitable.

 

"Two pennies it's the dungeon for him," wagered Richard.

 

"Three pennies...banishment," countered Armus.

 

With a groan, Cedric hunched his shoulders in resignation and exited the room.

 

When she was sure that Cedric was out of hearing range, Meg turned back to the two remaining brothers.  "You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves," she scolded.

 

"Meg, we were just having a little fun ..." explained Armus, trying his best to charm his pretty young wife...and failing.

 

"Fun at Cedric's expense.  He's going through a difficult time right now.  First love is always painful and trivializing his feelings is especially cruel."

 

Armus sighed in agreement.  "You're right."

 

"Sorry, Meg," muttered Richard, properly chastised.

 

Meg gently stroked her husband's cheek and smiled indulgently at her brother-in-law.  It was hard to stay mad at either of them. "I know you two love your brother and teasing him is your way of showing it...just try to be a little more prudent in the future."

 

With a glint in his eye, Armus pulled his wife onto his lap and kissed her soundly.  "How did I ever get so lucky to win such a wise and considerate wife?"

 

"I'm sure I don't know," she giggled, returning the kiss.

 

Richard rolled his eyes.  There they go again!

 

 

 

Cedric Edward Ambrose Grey stood outside the door to his father's study and braced himself for what was sure to be an awkward scene.  For the most part he had managed to avoid his father the past few weeks, except when surrounded by family members or servants, but now it looked as though fate had caught up with him.  He ran his fingers through his hair, straightened his tunic and pulled his shoulders back, managing to look much more confident than he actually felt.  Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the huge wooden door.

 

"Come."

 

Cedric pushed the door open slowly, wincing as the hinges squealed in protest.  He knew just how they felt.  "You wanted to see me, Father?"

 

Thomas Grey, Lord of Covington Cross looked up from the papers he had been perusing and smiled at his youngest son.  "Cedric!  Come in.  Come in." He motioned to a nearby chair and Cedric cautiously sat down.  Lacing his fingers together, Thomas placed his hands on his desk and gazed at his son expectantly.

 

Cedric waited patiently.  He was no fool.  He thought it best to remain silent until he knew what he was in trouble for.  There was no use in admitting to something only to find out he was in trouble for something else.  He had learned that cat and mouse game from his brothers.

 

The truth of the matter was that Sir Thomas had heard rumors of Cedric's involvement in his first serious romance. Although he by no means approved of Cedric's choice, he had no intention of interfering.  Three other sons had taught him not to offer advice in matters of the heart unless asked.   He merely intended to give Cedric the opportunity to confide in him

 

"So...Cedric..." he hedged.

 

"Yes?"

 

Thomas could read the caution in his son's eyes.  This was going to be much more difficult than he first thought.  "I haven't seen much of you lately, Son.  Where have you been keeping yourself?"

 

Cedric stared at him blankly.  "Pardon?"

 

"What have you been up to?  Keeping out of trouble, I hope?"

 

Cedric managed an unconvincing lopsided grin.  "You know me, Father."

 

"Yes," responded Sir Thomas dryly.   "That's why I'm asking."

 

"I haven't been doing anything special.  Just training for when I become a knight."

 

Not that again!  For the life of him, Thomas just couldn't understand the fascination Cedric had with the knighthood.  It was a hard life.  A life of sacrifice and danger and...Cedric had managed to change the subject.

 

"Yes...well...."  He hedged.  "I've been thinking..."

 

Cedric shifted uneasily in his chair.  Uh-oh.  Here it comes.

 

"I've been invited to Lord Marsten's birthday celebration this evening.  It looks to be quite a festive occasion.  Plenty of good food, music...pretty girls...." He cleared his throat self-consciously under Cedric's suspicious gaze.  "Yes, well...I'd like you to attend with me."

 

"Me?" Cedric croaked. "Why me?"

 

Thomas smiled benignly.  "I thought it might be a nice evening out...just the two of us.  Father and son.  What do you say?"

 

"Don't you usually attend these gatherings with Lady Elizabeth?"

 

"Lady Elizabeth is away on business."

 

"What about Armus and Meg?"

 

"Your brother and his wife have other plans for this evening."

 

"Well why don't you ask Eleanor or Richard?"

 

"Because I'm asking you!" Thomas exploded.  "He frowned in annoyance.  "If I didn't know any better, I would think you were embarrassed to be seen with me." 

 

"Of course not, Father!" Cedric hurriedly assured him. "I would be honored to accompany you to Lord Marsten's this evening."  If not altogether sincere, his offer was heartfelt. 

 

Sir Thomas leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied expression on his face.  Damn, he was good!  Guilt.  It worked every time!

 

 

 

John Mullens surveyed the crowded hall of Avondale, Lord Reginald Marsten's grand estate, and his lips curved into what could almost pass as a smile.  The invitation to the birthday celebration couldn't have come at a more opportune time.  There were several eligible young men in attendance that could surely get Alexandra's mind off of Cedric Grey.

 

He glanced at his young daughter who was obviously bored and making no attempt to hide it.  "Why there's Sir Edward Pennington's son," he pointed out none too discreetly.  "I believe his name is Gilfred.   Perhaps I could arrange an introduction."

 

"Father!" Alexandra groaned petulantly.  "He has spots."

 

"They're not spots, Alexandra.  They're freckles."

 

"They're spots," she insisted stubbornly.

 

Mullens frowned in annoyance.   His daughter's sullen behavior was beginning to irritate him.   Every eligible young man he had so much as commented on had met with Alexandra's blatant disapproval.  One was too short, one too fat, one had a slight lisp, another was knock-kneed.

 

"Alexandra," he admonished gently, "you should really make an attempt to be more open-minded.   When I was your age..."

 

Alexandra was spared that enlightening bit of information by the timely interruption of Lady Judith Blackburn, a wealthy widow who had targeted the Baron as a romantic prospect.

 

"John!"  she greeted enthusiastically.  "How good it is to see you again.  It's been far too long!"

 

"Judith...you're looking lovely, as always.  You remember my daughter, Alexandra."

 

Lady Judith glanced at the young teen and smiled dutifully.  "Of course I remember her.  My, what a lovely young woman she's become.  I'm sure she must have an abundance of handsome suitors storming the gates of Torsun-Narr."

 

"The less said on THAT subject, the better," Mullens commented dryly.  Alexandra lowered her head and said nothing.  The awkward silence that followed was mercifully ended when an ensemble of fiddles, flutes, drums and lutes began to play a lively song.  

 

Lady Blackburn grabbed Mullens' hand possessively and pulled him towards the floor where several other couples had already begun to dance.  "Come dance with me, John," she cajoled. leaving him no opportunity to refuse.  With a parting glance at his daughter, he followed obediently, an amused expression on his face.

 

Left to her own devices, Alexandra wandered aimlessly around the great hall, deftly avoiding anyone who looked like they might speak to her.  She eventually settled behind a large pillar, half hidden from view, where she was able to watch the festivities without fear of discovery.  Her heart ached with the angst of first love as she watched a myriad of couples dancing and laughing.  She knew she should be enjoying the celebration.  But all she could think about was a certain blue-eyed, ebony-haired young man.  Why couldn't her father understand?  Why was he so against Cedric Grey?  Her eyes filled with tears and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.   She needed air.  Pushing her way through the crowd, she made her way to Lord Marsten's private garden.

 

 

Several dances later, a winded Baron Mullens led Lady Judith to the refreshment table.  Filling a goblet with punch, he handed it to her then proceeded to fill one for himself.  The ornate chalice was only half full when he was inadvertently jostled from behind.  Red liquid spilled down the front of his tunic leaving an ugly red stain in its wake.

 

"Oh, I'm so sorry..."

 

Mullens turned to face the culprit.  "Thomas!" 

 

Thomas Grey's eyes widened in surprise.  "John Mullens!  What are you doing here?"

 

"Taking an unexpected bath at the moment," he snapped sarcastically.

 

Thomas managed to look properly chagrined.  "How clumsy of me.  I do apologize."   He made a half-hearted attempt to brush the offending stain from Mullens tunic but had his hand roughly shoved away by the Baron.

 

 "And what brings you here, Thomas?  I had no idea you were friends with Lord Marsten."

 

"We're not exactly friends per se.  Old business acquaintances would be more accurate."

 

"John, aren't you going to introduce me?" asked Lady Judith, her voice taking on a decidedly husky tone.

Mullens raised his eyebrows slightly.  Judith's quest for a proper suitor obviously didn't end with him.  The woman was worse than a cat in heat and if he'd had the slightest interest in her, he would have been offended.  He obediently made the proper introductions, then looked around nonchalantly.  "I don't see Lady Elizabeth."

 

"She's not in attendance tonight.  She was detained elsewhere on business."

 

"Then you're here alone?" asked Judith hopefully.

 

Thomas smiled politely.  "Not exactly.  I'm here with my son."

 

Mullens blanched.  "Richard?"  He still had back spasms from the time the volatile young knight had thrown him over a table.

 

"No.  My youngest son, Cedric."

 

Mullens' face turned white.  "Cedric?  He's here?"

 

Sir Thomas looked confused.  "Why yes.  I thought it might be nice for us to share an evening together."  He looked around the room.  "I wonder where he's wandered off to..."

 

"If you'll excuse me, I must find my daughter.  I fear I've been neglecting her this evening."  Mullens bowed slightly to Lady Blackburn.  "Judith, it's been a pleasure."  He managed a curt nod to Thomas then disappeared into the crowd.

 

Lady Blackburn paused for a moment then smiled up at the Lord of Covington Cross.  "So tell me, Sir Thomas.... are you married?"

 

 

 

"I can't believe you're here," Alexandra managed in breathless wonderment.  Her hands were cradled lovingly in the tender embrace of Cedric Grey.  The two teens were seated on a carved stone bench amidst the heady perfume of English roses and night blooming jasmine that concealed the hint of rain that hung in the air. A summer symphony of chirping crickets blending with the cacophony of laughter and music that drifted from the party and a  canopy of stars lit a moonless night sky that half concealed the would be paramours.

 

"It's fate," replied Cedric dramatically.  "We were meant to be together."

 

"If my father finds us...."

 

"Even your father can't fight what's meant to be."

 

"But...."

 

He silenced her words by placing his finger on her lips. "Shhh.  Let's not waste precious time talking."  His lips brushed ever so gently against hers.

 

"Cedric....."

 

"Mmmmm?" he managed dreamily.

 

"Cedric!"  She pushed him forcefully away.

 

He looked confused.  "What's wrong?  I thought you...."  He stopped, following her stricken gaze.  Standing ten feet away, his eyes black with fury, stood Baron John Mullens.

 

"Alexandra, get your cloak.  We're leaving."

 

The young maiden stood obediently.  With a woeful look at Cedric, she scurried from the garden without so much as a backward glance.

 

Cedric had jumped to his feet and braced himself for the onslaught that was sure to come. Amazingly, it never happened.    John Mullens scrutinized the youth in silence, his eyes black and unreadable.  Without so much as a word, he turned and left Cedric standing alone in the garden.  Cedric's legs gave out and he quickly sat back down on the bench.  He had avoided what would surely have been a nasty, if not violent confrontation with the Baron.  But he was no fool.  There was one thing he was sure of.   After tonight, there would be the devil to pay.

 

 

The devil arrived at the gates of Covington Cross early the next morning.  The Greys were all seated at the dining table partaking in their morning repast and engaging in what Sir Thomas fondly referred to as the "Table of Babble" when the arrival of Baron John Mullens was announced.  They barely had time for the message to penetrate when the visitor stalked into the dining hall like a man with a mission.

 

Sir Thomas ventured a quick glance at Cedric.  He had no doubt what this unexpected visit was about.  He and his son had shared a rare 'heart-to-heart' talk on their way home from Marsten's party the previous night.    "John!" he greeted informally, wiping his mouth with his napkin and tossing it beside his plate.  "You're out and about early this morning.  What brings you to Covington Cross?  Would you care to join us at our morning meal?"  Normally he wouldn't have been so congenial to a man he so disliked, but he wanted to spare Cedric and the others an unpleasant confrontation.

 

"This isn't a social call, Thomas.  I must speak with you."

 

"Oh?" Sir Thomas feigned innocence.

 

Cedric sat frozen at the table, his siblings pointedly avoiding any eye contact with him.

 

"I must with speak you," Mullens repeated.  "Alone," he added for emphasis.

 

Thomas took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  He rose deliberately then motioned to the Baron.  "Shall we retire to my study?"

 

Richard started to rise in protest.  "Father...."

 

Thomas shot a warning look at his son.  "It's all right, Richard." 

 

The epitome of grace under pressure, Thomas led his guest to his private study and closed the door firmly behind them. 

 

It was only then that Cedric was able to breathe again.  "I'm dead."

 

 

Thomas Grey sat down in the ornate chair positioned behind his desk and motioned for Mullens to take a seat nearby.  The Baron remained standing, pacing nervously and fidgeting with the hem of his tunic.   He absent-mindedly picked up a paperweight from the desk, examined it then set it down again.  A massive intricately carved bookcase that covered one entire wall caught his eye and he wandered over to inspect the variety of books and journals that were housed there.  He slid one from the shelf and thumbed through the pages distractedly, never really seeing the words.  The earthy smell of leather filled his nostrils and brought him jarringly back to the present.  Thomas refrained from smiling at his neighbor's discomfort.

 

"I think I know why you're here," he offered tentatively.

 

"I seriously doubt that, Thomas," he countered, replacing the book on the shelf.

 

"You're concerned about Alexandra and Cedric.  I'm not thrilled about the situation either, but I spoke with Cedric about it last night and he assures me that he has treated your daughter with the utmost respect and -"

 

"I don't want assurances.  I want you to keep Cedric away from my daughter."

 

Thomas inhaled thoughtfully.  He must tread carefully.  "I understand how you feel.  I have a daughter, too.    I also have four sons and have been through these romantic melodramas before.  Believe me when I tell you that the harder you try to keep them apart the more determined they will be to stay together.  I'm sure if you simply ignore the situation, their infatuation will fade.  And if it doesn't, would an alliance between our two families be so god-awful?

 

"That's out of the question!"

 

"John, I realize we're not the closest of friends, but try not to punish Cedric because of our differences."

 

"This has nothing to do with us, Thomas.  It has everything to do with Cedric."

 

Thomas frowned at Mullen's ill-chosen words.  "But why?  What has Cedric done to make you dislike him so?  Of all my sons, he's the most gentle...the most innocent..."

 

Mullens clenched his hands in frustration, his brow breaking out in a sweat.  "I don't take pleasure in coming to you like this, Thomas.  I wouldn't have come here today if I hadn't exhausted every means possible to keep those two apart.  All I'm asking for is your support."

 

Thomas frowned, growing suspicious.  "Why?  There's more to this than you're letting on."

 

"Just leave it, Thomas!"  Mullens implored, desperation in his voice.

 

"No.  You started this.  Explain yourself."

 

Mullens groaned as if in pain.  "Cedric and Alexandra can never be!  They are brother and sister," he blurted out.

 

Thomas stared at him in confusion.  "What are you talking about?"

 

"Cedric and Alexandra. They had different mothers ... but the same father."  The last words were spoken in a half whisper.

 

Thomas continued to stare at the noble who stood before him, not quite comprehending what he was hearing.

 

"Good God, man!" Mullens shouted.  "Do I have to spell it out for you?  Anne and I were lovers!  Cedric is my son!!!"

 

All the color drained from Thomas's face, the veins in his temple standing out eerily against his pale skin.  He couldn't breathe....he couldn't think.  "You son of a bitch..." he jumped to his feet and literally dove over the desk, his hands closing around the Baron's throat.  He was a madman, fueled solely by pure, unadulterated rage.

 

Baron John Mullens began to black out when he felt Thomas' hands loosen their grip.  Coughing and gasping for breath, he saw Thomas held firmly in the grasp of his sons, Richard and Armus.  Both men could barely restrain their outraged father.  Cedric and Eleanor stood outside the door to the study, fear and disbelief etched on their faces.

 

"Get out!"  Thomas choked.  "Get out of my sight before I kill you."

 

"I have proof, Thomas," he barely managed to gasp.

 

"I said get out!!!!"

 

Mullens straightened with all the dignity he could muster.  "When you're ready to discuss this in a civilized manner, you know where to find me."  Pushing his way past Cedric and Eleanor, he exited the castle.

 

It was only then Armus released the firm grip he had on his father.  "Are you all right?  What was that all about?"

 

Thomas could only shake his head.  His eyes were filled with fear as they settled on the handsome youth who stood watching him in bewildered confusion.  Cedric.

 

 

 

For three days, Thomas lived in a private hell.  He didn't sleep, he barely ate, he confided in no one.  Armus had tried unsuccessfully to break through the barrier he'd built around himself and had even recruited Lady Elizabeth in his efforts, but no one was able to penetrate Thomas' self-imposed withdrawal. The Lord of Covington Cross sequestered himself in his study, refusing to talk with anyone.  How could he?  What would he say?

 

Emotionally, he had gone full circle through rage, anger, fear and denial only to keep coming back to the one question that continued to haunt him:  Why now?  Why after all these years would Mullens make a claim like that...now?  The answer was inconceivable.  It couldn't be true.  It couldn't be!  Mullens was playing one of his mind games.  He was a master at it, and Thomas had fallen for it completely.  Well, Thomas would call him on it.  Challenge him to show the proof of which, of course, there was none.

 

With newfound resolve, he made his way to the stable, had the head groom saddle his favorite mount and headed to Torsun-Narr.

 

 

 

John Mullens stood in his private solar, caressing the lock of ebony hair he held between his fingers.  "I'm sorry, Anne.  Forgive me."   He had chastised himself a hundred times.  Whatever had possessed him to tell Thomas?  He hadn't meant to.  He had sworn to take the secret to his grave and he'd had every intention of honoring that promise.  But they had never foreseen the course that fate would take.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock on the door.  "My Lord?"  a servant called nervously.  Mullens took a deep breath and straightened. It wouldn't do for the servants to see him like this.  "Come."

 

The door opened slowly and a middle-aged manservant entered apprehensively.  "Pardon the interruption, M'Lord.  Sir Thomas Grey is here and insists on an audience with you.  I explained that you were not to be disturbed but he..."

 

"Never mind, Harold.  Show him in."

 

"Yes, M'Lord."

 

"And see we are not disturbed under any circumstances."

 

"Yes, M'Lord."

 

Mullens barely had time to enfold the lock of hair in the square of silk he kept it in.  He quickly concealed it between the pages of a book of poetry, which he placed in his bookshelf before the Lord of Covington Cross was escorted into the room. 

 

"Thank you, Harold.  That will be all."

 

The servant nodded and quietly closed the door behind him

 

"Why Thomas, what a surprise," he greeted snidely.

 

"I'm sure it is," replied Thomas coldly.  "I have no doubt that you never expected me to call your bluff."

 

The Baron looked genuinely bewildered.  "Bluff?"

 

"I'm on to your games, John Mullens.  If you think I'm going to stand by and allow you to sully my late wife's name, you're sadly mistaken."

 

"This isn't a game."

 

"You said you had proof?  Well, where is it?  Should I act surprised when you tell me this so-called proof has 'mysteriously disappeared'?"

 

Normally Mullens would have relished knocking Grey down a peg or two, but he truly found no joy in this.  How many more lives would be ruined by a love that should never have been?  "Don't make me do this, Thomas," he warned morosely.

 

"Finish what you started," ordered Grey sharply.

 

With a sigh of resignation, Mullens reached across to his desk and lifted an ornate silver box.   He hesitated   for a brief moment before shoving it roughly into the hands of the man who had unknowingly affected his life so drastically.    Puzzled, Thomas accepted the coffer and cautiously opened it, peering inside.  Nestled upon a lining of crushed red velvet lay several folded letters yellowed with age.  He lifted one from the box and opened it carefully.  His face paled as he recognized the handwriting.

 

"You'd better sit down," Mullens advised knowingly.

 

For once, Thomas didn't argue.  He felt as if the breath had been knocked from him as his legs gave out beneath him and he descended heavily into a nearby chair.   His eyes scanned the words in front of him, not quite believing what he read.

 

Dearest Beloved,

 

My heart aches at the way we parted yesterday.  I didn't mean to cause you pain.  I would sooner take my own life than cause the hurt I saw in your eyes.  Try to understand, my love, that I cannot leave my husband.  I love Thomas...as deeply as I love you.  It sounds strange, I know, to hear me declare my love for two men, but it's true.  When I was first wed to Thomas, I knew nothing of love, certainly nothing of the love between a man and a woman.  I grew to love Thomas, to cherish him.  He gave me four beautiful children that I treasure more than life itself.  I was content...or so I thought.  And then I met you.  John, you awakened a passion in me that I never knew existed.  Sin though it may be, I regret not an instant of our stolen moments together.  I know you feel as if I've betrayed you, but if I left Thomas to go away with you, I would never see my children again.  He would see to that, I am sure.  Someday you will understand the love a mother has for her children.  It transcends all other love.  That is why Thomas must never know that the child I bear is not his.  This child...our child.... must be raised as a Grey.  Please forgive me, John.  I can only imagine the torment you must be going through, but we both knew that our love was not meant to be.  I have damned my immortal soul in loving you and can only beg you and God for forgiveness.  I pray that time will ease the ache in your heart, my love.  Until then, know that I love you now and I will love you always.

 

                                                                               Yours,

                                                                                    Anne

 

 

Thomas fell back in the chair, stunned.  "How?" he barely managed to get out.  "How could this have happened?"

 

"Fate makes pawns of us all, Thomas."

 

Thomas glanced up questioningly, but Mullens' looked away, gazing out a nearby window that overlooked his private retreat.  Beyond the beveled glass, lush gardens unfurled in a verdant green tapestry.  Though he couldn't see the other man's face, Thomas had the distinct impression Mullens' thoughts turned inward to another half- forgotten time.

 

"It was the summer before Cedric was born," Mullens began, his voice deceptively monotone.  "You had been away at court for some time, leaving Anne to manage the affairs of the castle, three young sons and an infant daughter on her own."

 

Thomas stiffened at the veiled chastisement, but said nothing.

 

"It was an exceptionally mild summer, as I recall.  Richard and William had cajoled Anne into taking them boating while Armus remained on the shore, looking after his sister.   I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn't been riding by that morning."  He paused, frowning as the memories came flooding back, overwhelming him.  Thomas remained silent, strangely mesmerized by what he was hearing.

 

"The boys must have been rough-housing and the boat capsized.   I'll remember the screams till my dying days.  When I got there, Armus was pulling William to shore.  Richard must have made it on his own, but Anne....  her dress must have been like a lead weight when it got wet.  It pulled her down like an anchor.  As God is my witness, I have no idea how I found her.  When I pulled her to shore she was half dead."

 

 " I never knew," Thomas whispered.  "She never told me."

 

"She swore us all to silence.  She didn't want you to travel all the way from London because of her ineptitude."

 

"Ineptitude?" Thomas gasped in shock.  "My God, she almost drowned!"

 

"She was afraid you would be furious with her.  That you would find her too incompetent to take care of her own children."

 

Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Mullens.  "That wasn't an accusation, Thomas.  I'm just telling you how she felt.  Right or wrong, Anne felt inadequate to handle the tasks you left in her charge."

 

Thomas shook his head, perplexed.  "But she never complained.  Her letters never hinted that she found herself overwhelmed with life at the castle.  Why wouldn't she tell me how she felt?"

 

"How could she?" Mullens admonished sharply, barely managing to keep the disgust from his voice.  "You weren't at home, were you?  You were off playing politics at court." 

 

"What do you know of it?" Thomas defended himself angrily.  "You weren't there."

 

"But I was there, Thomas," he snarled, no longer able to conceal the contempt and loathing he felt for this man.   "I was there when Anne needed someone to talk to.  I was there when she needed someone to hold her, to..."

 

Thomas jumped to his feet, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment.  "Enough!"  His eyes narrowed in sudden insight.  "I see it all clearly now.  You seduced my Anne when she was most vulnerable."

 

Mullens sighed, refusing to rise to the bait.  "It wasn't like that.  We never meant for it to happen.  We were friends," he insisted, needing to defend Anne and their actions.  "After the accident, I took it upon myself to look in on her and the boys from time to time.  She seemed to enjoy my visits and welcome my company.  It was all very innocent."

 

Thomas snorted his disbelief.  Mullens ignored him and continued.

 

"We started taking early morning rides together. We shared long talks.  I found myself telling her things I had never told another human soul."  He closed his eyes, allowing the memories to wash over him.  "I don't even think I realized that I had fallen in love with her."  His eyes flew open, shocked at the words he had just uttered.  Thomas said nothing.  He was staring at an unseen object on the floor.  Mullens cleared his throat and continued, compelled to free the words that had been imprisoned within him for so long.

 

"I remember that morning as if it were yesterday.  We had taken our horses through the forest along the outskirts of Chelsea Field.  We never noticed the storm that was brewing until it was too late.  We took refuge in a small lodge nearby."

 

Thomas knew the structure he spoke of.  It was a small one-room dwelling built as a shelter for hunters.  Thomas had used it many times over the years on hunting expeditions.  It sickened him to know what else it had been used for.

 

"I built a small fire to help us dry off and..." Mullens' voice caught.  "As God is my witness, we never meant for it to happen."  He avoided making eye contact with Thomas.  "Afterward... we swore it would never happen again.  It was a mistake.  But..."

 

But it had happened again.  He didn't need to speak the words.  Thomas already knew.  He covered his eyes with his hand.  This couldn't be happening.  It was a nightmare.  How could Anne have betrayed him like this?  Numbly, he lifted another letter from its silver receptacle.  His hands shook as he opened the fragile parchment, but he forced himself to read the words.

 

 

My Heart,

 

You have a son.  I would give the world for you to be able to hold him in your arms, but we both know that that is not possible.  He's a beautiful baby and his brothers already adore him.   Thomas has named him Cedric after his paternal grandfather and Edward after the King.  I insisted that his third name be Ambrose and Thomas found no reason not to indulge me in so small a request.  You see, my love?  I remembered you telling me your father's name.  It was the least I could do to give our son some small legacy from you.  Cedric is a small baby, much smaller than my other sons when they were born.  Thus, it was easy for everyone to believe that he was born several weeks early.  Our secret is safe, John.  I don't think you'll ever know how precious all my children are to me.  I love each one more than life itself.  But Cedric will always hold a special place in my heart.  Whether or not you realize it now, all is at it should be.  Be at peace, my dearest love.

 

                                                                            Forever Yours,

                                                                                               Anne

 

 

Solemnly, Thomas picked up a third letter.  This one was difficult to read, as the words had been smeared.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Dearest Love,

 

I know you must have heard the news.  It seems the plague strikes indiscriminately.  Neither highborn nor low is safe from its deadly grasp.  I am not long for this world.  Please don't be alarmed when you see this letter stained with my tears.  I weep, not because I am dying, but because I will never see our son grow to manhood.  I am sure that this is God's punishment for my sin.  I have very little time to atone and have made a decision that I know to be right and true.  I must give Cedric back to God.  I have made Thomas promise me that when he comes of age, Cedric will become a cleric.  Our son must never be allowed to suffer for our sin and this is the only way I know to spare him.  Try to understand, my Sweet.  I hold you to your promise to keep our secret safe.  Cedric must forever be acknowledged as Thomas' son.  I beg your forgiveness for the hurt and pain I have caused and pray that someday you will find peace and love again.

 

                                                                          Eternally Yours,

                                                                                           Anne 

 

 

 

Thomas choked back a sob as the letter slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.  Mullens tried to summon a note of sympathy, some smidgeon of compassion for the broken man who sat before him, but could not.  Thomas Grey had taken everything of importance from him.  He had taken the only woman he had ever really loved---and who had ever truly loved him.   He had taken his only legitimate son, Henry of Gault, who now lay cold in his grave.  He had taken Cedric, his one child who had sprung from the seed of love.  And now, he feared, he would take his daughter.  Was it any wonder that the only emotion he could evoke was hate?

 

"No one must ever know," he pronounced firmly.  "No one."  He reached down and picked up the letter.  He carefully refolded the fragile parchment and placed it back in the elegant box along with the other letters before turning back to Sir Thomas.   "I'm sure you understand now why the children must be kept apart.  I trust you will do your part to restrain Cedric."

 

"Of course," Thomas managed, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper.   Somehow he had the presence of mind to regard the silver chest.  "The letters--?"

 

"Will remain in my safe keeping," Mullens declared adamantly.

 

Thomas managed a slight nod.  He didn't have the strength or clarity of mind to question the wisdom of such a decision.  He stood unsteadily.  "I'll speak with Cedric this evening."

 

"What will you say to him?"

 

Thomas shook his head.  "I haven't the faintest idea," he admitted grimly.

 

Mullens grasped the sleeve of Thomas' tunic, his fingers crushing the rich umber-colored velvet "You must be firm with him."

 

Thomas jerked away from Mullens touch with a violence that startled both men.  "Don't presume to tell me how to deal with my son!" he snapped.   He waited for the Baron to challenge his choice of words, but no objection was forthcoming.

 

"Just see to it that he stays away from Alexandra."

 

Thomas couldn't bring himself to look into Mullens' eyes.  He wanted to say something, anything-but there were no words.  Just a hollow space where his heart had been.  Silently, he shrugged his cloak around his shoulders, turned and left Torsun-Narr.

 

 

 

It was late afternoon when Sir Thomas left Mullens' castle, but he couldn't face the thought of returning to Covington Cross just yet.  The skies were bleak and gray, ominous clouds rolling overhead in a dismal foreshadowing of the rainstorm that was to come.  He welcomed the cool mist that sprayed his face.  It was a soothing caress after the emotional blow he had just received.  Thomas allowed his horse Killicrate to saunter aimlessly as he recalled the events of the past morning.  The words of Anne's letters played over and over in his mind, mocking him with ferocious cruelty.  He would never have imagined her capable of adultery.  Not his Anne. 

 

He continued to allow the horse to wander idly, paying no attention to the passing landscape until he found himself inexplicably standing next to Anne's grave.  He wasn't surprised that he had found himself drawn to the resplendent sarcophagus.  Many a time when he was troubled he had come here to talk to his wife.  It had brought him peace and solace.  Now it was the harbinger of unanswered questions. 

 

He circled the stone effigy over and over again, trying to give voice to the ache in his heart.  "Why Anne?" he cried out in anguish.  "Why?  I thought you loved me.  I certainly loved you!  How could you betray me like this?  Was I wrong to want a better life for my family?  I know you made sacrifices.  I made sacrifices too.  But they were for you and the children.  I thought you understood that.  I thought..." His words were replaced with heart-wrenching sobs.  All his illusions of what he had envisioned as a perfect marriage were shattered.  It had been a sham and he had been too blind to see it.  

 

He sat down on the soft carpet of grass and leaned back against the massive oak that stood guard over Anne's grave like an ancient citadel   He closed his eyes. What good would it do to rant and rave now?   He was as emotionally spent and physically exhausted as if he had spent a day in battle.  He sat quietly for the better part of an hour, searching for answers he knew he would never find.  He would never know what had led Anne into the arms of John Mullens.  He rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the dull ache that threatened to get worse.   How would he ever find the strength to face his family?   More important, how would he face Cedric without revealing his distress?  With a sigh, he stood and braced himself.  Liquid fortitude was definitely called for.  Mounting Killicrate, he turned his steed in the direction of the Magpie's Nest.

 

 

 

It was the gloaming hour, that magical time of day when the setting sun was but a whisper and twilight was about to descend upon the land.  The Magpie's Nest was filled with the local peasantry who had come to share an evening meal, a portion of ale, and exchange ribald stories and current gossip.  Heads turned with curiosity when Sir Thomas entered the establishment.  Several men nodded their respects to their lord, and then turned their attention back to their drinks.

 

The proprietor of the tavern rushed forward, wiping his hands on the front of his grievously soiled shirt.  "Welcome, M'Lord," he greeted jovially.  "An what kin I git you this fine summer evenin'?

 

"A tankard of your finest ale," Thomas ordered.  He managed a friendly smile that belied the sadness in his eyes.

 

"Right away, M'Lord."  The barkeep cleared a small table in the corner of the room and wiped the debris onto the floor.  It was by no means clean, but afforded Sir Thomas some modicum of privacy.  Once settled in, he nursed the ale slowly, savoring the rough but heady beverage.  His eyes roamed the room, taking in the vast array of peasants and locals who frequented the tavern.  He couldn't help but wonder what tragedies and blessings life had bestowed upon them. As hard as their lives were, they seemed to possess an inner peace and genuine happiness that seemed to elude the upper class.   He was lost in thought when a familiar laugh caught his attention.  He turned his head to see his second son, Richard, descending the staircase from the upper level, his arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a buxom tavern maid.

 

The lascivious smile on Richard's face died when he saw his father sitting at the corner table staring up at him with a look that could only be described as blatant disapproval.  He released his hold on the wench, whispered briefly in her ear, then strode over to his father's table and sat down.

 

"Father!  What are you doing here?"

 

"I might ask you the same thing."

 

"I just stopped in to quench my thirst," Richard offered, a bit too smoothly.

 

Sir Thomas inclined his head toward the tavern maid.  "Your thirst wasn't all that was quenched, I would imagine."

 

Richard had the decency and wisdom to remain silent.

 

As the second son of the lord of this shire, I should think a little more discretion is called for, Richard."

 

The handsome knight lowered his eyes at the modest scolding.  "Yes, Father."

 

Sir Thomas berated himself silently.  He hadn't meant to take out his frustrations on his son.  His relationship with Richard was volatile at best.  They were too much alike-and that likeness led, more often than not, to some rather heated arguments between them.  He motioned for the barkeep to bring a matching tankard of ale, and father and son drank in companionable silence. They were working on their third tankard when Richard's gaze shifted toward his father.

 

"You know," he began guardedly  "you've always been there for me when I was troubled---offering advice or just lending an ear when I needed to talk.  I'd like to think that you'd let me return the favor."

 

Thomas smiled fondly at his son.  "Thank you, Richard, but this is something I have to deal with on my own--" His voice trailed off and his smile faded when he saw the look on Richard's face.  He had rebuffed him and Richard was hurt, if not offended.  As hard as he tried to come across as the stoic, noble knight, Richard had a sensitive soul, one he tried to keep hidden and protected from those who would wound it.  How many scars had Thomas already inflicted, albeit unknowingly?  He slapped his son affectionately on the shoulder.  "But that's an offer I intend to make use of in the future.  Thank you, Son."

 

Richard returned the smile, still concerned for his father.

 

Sir Thomas took another hefty swig from his tankard then eyed his son speculatively.  "Tell me, Richard.  What do you remember of your mother?

 

Richard's head jerked up in shock.  His father had never brought up the subject of his mother.  Not to him.  Not to anybody.  He pursed his lips thoughtfully.  "I remember she was very gentle and loving.  She was always hugging and kissing us...even though we acted like we didn't like it."  His face lit up in a grin as he recalled happier times.

 

"I was away at court for long periods of time when you were younger," Thomas prodded.  "Did your mother seem unhappy or troubled during my absences?"

 

Richard's brow furrowed as he tried to remember.  "I remember that she cried a lot.  She missed you.  She took to spending a lot of time by herself--going for long walks or riding.  I never thought much how hard it must have been on her-trying to take care of all of us and keep the castle running smoothly.  But I never heard her complain."

Thomas nodded, then finished his ale in one hefty swig.  He slapped the tankard down on the table and motioned to his son.  "We had better be heading home before they start to worry.  We're late for supper.  There'll be hell to pay if we make Armus wait for his evening meal."

 

Richard grinned, insisted on paying for the drinks, then father and son headed back to Covington Cross.

 

 

As usual, dinner at the table of Covington Cross was filled with mayhem and mirth.  Each of his children was trying to outdo the other in relating tales of their day's events, although Thomas suspected that much of their enthusiasm stemmed from an attempt to lighten the dark cloud that had loomed over the castle the past few days.

 

He ate in silence, as he was wont to do, answering a question or offering a comment when it was deemed necessary.  He found his gaze returning to Cedric again and again, as he searched for some small feature that physically resembled his own---the arch of an eyebrow---the curve of a jaw line.  Thomas popped a portion of seasoned lamb into his mouth and thought back to the summer that Mullens had spoken of.  He had been involved in some highly confidential, extremely sensitive affairs of court.   It was Thomas' input and involvement in those critical weeks that had bonded his friendship with King Edward III.  When Anne had called him home on the pretense of an emergency, he had been annoyed.  When he found out that there was no emergency, he had become angry and said things to her that he regretted to this very day.  In an attempt to mollify him, Anne had played the seductress, wooing him to her bed with promises he had no will to resist.  It was only now that he realized that it had been a ruse.  She had already been pregnant with Cedric.  But she had needed Thomas in her bed.  She had needed Thomas to spend one glorious, passionate night with her-to convince him that Cedric was his.

 

Thomas felt the lump in his throat tighten.   A cuckold.  That's what he was.  A cuckold and a fool.

 

"Thomas?"

 

The gentle voice thrust him back into the present.  Lady Elizabeth Leland gazed at him, concern and worry etched in her delicate features.  "Your thoughts were miles away, Thomas."

 

He shook his head, chagrined at his poor manners.  "Elizabeth.  What a poor host I am."  He took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips and brushing the knuckles with the most tender of kisses.   "Forgive me?

 

She smiled demurely, her lashes dipping in practiced flirtation.  "Well---I might be so inclined," she hedged good-naturedly.  "But you'll have to do a bit more groveling than that.  Perhaps a moonlit walk in the garden might make me more amenable."

 

Thomas' face lit up and for the first time that day, his smile was heartfelt.  "Nothing would give me more pleasure.  But first...."   He turned to his youngest son-for blood or no, Cedric would forever be his son.  "Cedric, I need a few moments of your time before you retire for the evening."

 

The handsome youth welcomed the interruption.  He had been sparring verbally with his sister-and losing-as usual.  He looked winsomely at his father, searching the elder man's face for some clue, some sign that would alleviate the torture of the last few days.   "Yes, Father?" he asked hopefully.

 

The table that had been a cacophony of disharmony drew silent.  All eyes fell on Thomas Grey as curiosity and expectation replaced their own trivial conversations.  Amused in spite of himself, Thomas cleared his throat theatrically and stood up.  "I think we'll be more comfortable in my study."

 

Richard chortled gleefully and was about to make a comment when his father shot him a sharp look.  "Richard, I think a session with the Friar is in order-if you catch my meaning."

 

The handsome knight's jaw snapped shut and he mumbled a barely coherent, "Yes, Father."

 

If Armus had entertained any notions of adding his own remarks they were quickly silenced by the warning look Sir Thomas cast his way.

 

"Eleanor," Thomas continued, "you will entertain Lady Elizabeth until I return."

 

His daughter managed a semi-gracious nod and half smile.

 

Satisfied, Thomas led his heartsick son from the room.  As soon as they were out of sight, Eleanor turned to her wayward brother.

 

"A session with the Friar, hmmm?  Whatever did you do, Richard?" she asked in the goading manner of a younger sister.

 

"That's none of your concern," the curly-headed knight said irritably.  "You can be such a brat!"

 

"I have a fairly good idea what got our hot-blooded brother into so much trouble," volunteered Armus with a knowing smile.  "It wouldn't have anything to do with that comely tavern girl down at the Magpie's Nest, now would it?  OW!!!!!"  He grabbed his ankle, the victim of a well-placed kick courtesy of his wife Meg.

 

"And what do you know of this tavern girl, husband of mine?" Meg demanded with a look that Armus couldn't decipher as being in jest or being in earnest.  Either way, he was in trouble.

 

"Richard told me."

 

"Liar!" the maligned brother countered.  If misery loved company, he intended to take an assembly of his nearest and dearest with him.

 

As everyone started jabbering at once, Lady Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and smiled.  Good Lord, how she adored this family!

 

 

 

If Cedric had harbored any illusions that this talk with his father would bring him happy news, those hopes were dashed almost immediately.  With the door to the private study shut firmly behind them, Sir Thomas paced in front of his desk, attempting to formulate what he was going to say to his son without causing him any more pain than he knew was necessary.  He gazed at Cedric, full of wide-eyed trust and belief that true love could conquer any obstacle.  How could he shatter those dreams?  And yet, he must.  He opened his mouth to speak, and shut it again.  Damn, this was difficult.

 

"Cedric-why don't you sit down."

 

The sense of foreboding was suffocating.  "I prefer to stand."

 

Thomas pursed his lips and nodded.  Better to get it over with as quickly as possible.  "I went to see John Mullens this morning."

 

Cedric drew himself up a little taller and braced himself for the words to come.

 

"Cedric, he made himself very clear.  You are not to see Alexandra anymore."

 

"But..."

 

Thomas held up his hand, halting the protest.  "Hear me out.  The Baron was very adamant about his wishes and I must agree with him."

 

"But why?"

 

"It doesn't matter why.  The edict has been handed down and it must be obeyed."

 

"Doesn't anyone care that Alexandra and I love each other?"

 

"Cedric, you are seventeen years old.  Alexandra is barely fourteen.  Neither one of you has any concept of what love is."

 

"That is not true!"

 

Thomas took a deep breath.  This was not going well.  "Cedric, I'm not trying to belittle your feelings.  Truly, I'm not.  But even if I supported this match, you cannot go against the wishes of the Baron in this matter.  You know as well as I that he holds no love for this family.  He will never approve of a match between you and Alexandra."

 

"You could get the King to intercede for us.  He would find favor in an alliance between our family and the Baron's.  He's always wanted a truce between us.  He could decree a wedding and..."

 

"No, Son," Thomas said as gently as he could.  "This match is not to be.  My word is final.  You are not to have contact with Alexandra.  No letters.  No meetings.  Nothing.  Is that understood?"

 

"No, I don't understand," retorted Cedric, his voice shaking, his face white with anger.  "I don't understand how my happiness means nothing to you.  There are only two things that have held any real meaning for me-to be a knight-and Alexandra.   You've found it necessary to deny me both and I don't know why."

 

"Cedric..."

 

"I know I'll never be the first son, or even the second or third.  But you've just made it painfully clear that I hold no real place in this family."

 

"Cedric, be reasonable.  In time you'll come to realize..."

 

Cedric snorted derisively.  "I've run out of time, haven't I, Father?"  He didn't wait for a reply.  His eyes filled with unshed tears; he turned and stormed out of the room.

 

Thomas leaned heavily against his desk, his heart aching for his son, yet unable to ease his pain.  It had gone badly.  He had known it would.  Yet what had stunned him more than anything was Cedric's feeling of alienation.  Had he truly been so neglectful of Cedric's needs?  Had he failed his whole family?  He slammed his fists onto the desktop in frustration.  His life was spiraling out of control and he didn't know how to stop it.

 

 

The moonlit walk of Sir Thomas and Lady Elizabeth was marred by the milky orb playing hide and seek behind a series of clouds.  The threat of rain seemed imminent, but neither seemed to notice.  They strolled hand in hand; Thomas ranting, Elizabeth listening patiently.

 

"I tell you Elizabeth, in the annals of history, never has there been a more hellish day than the one I've just endured."

 

"Poor Thomas," she consoled, gently stroking his brow with the tips of her fingers.  "Do you want to talk about it?"   She led him to a granite bench concealed within an arbor of dense trees.  An arched trellis assured their privacy as Thomas recounted his disastrous parley with Cedric.

 

"Give him time, Thomas," she counseled.  "They're young.  Affairs of the heart seem larger than life and all encompassing.  Don't you remember what it was like to be their age?  We survived it, didn't we?  Cedric will too.  To be perfectly honest, I never could understand what he saw in Alexandra."

 

"Elizabeth," Thomas chided.

 

"I suppose she's pleasant enough and rather comely considering who her father is, but I know Cedric can do much better.  His heart may be broken now, but he'll thank you someday.  Can you imagine being burdened with John Mullens as a father-in-law?  I shudder to think!"

 

Thomas chuckled in spite of himself.  "You're incorrigible, woman!"

 

Elizabeth smiled fondly at her paramour.  "It's good to see you smile.  You haven't done much of that lately.  Things will get better, Thomas," she promised, squeezing his hand.

 

"From your mouth to God's ear."  He shook his head.  "I can't believe he's even entertaining thoughts of marriage.  He's so young."

 

"He's not that young, Thomas.  Many men, even younger than he, are already married with families of their own.  You're going  to have to let him go someday."

 

"Someday.  Not today."

 

"Cedric has always held a special place in your heart, hasn't he?  He's your last link with Anne."

 

Thomas tried not to react to her words, but they pierced his heart like a flaming sword.  His head dropped as he fought the wave of pain that washed over him.  Elizabeth misunderstood his reaction.  It pained her to see the way he still grieved over his late wife.  He loved her.  She knew that.  But would he ever love her as much as he had loved Anne?

 

"I'm sorry," she apologized.  "I didn't mean to reopen old wounds."

 

"Some wounds never heal," he replied cryptically.  He gazed into her eyes, searching for answers that only she could help him find.  "Were you happy in any of your marriages, Elizabeth?"

 

She blinked, stunned.  He had never broached the subject of her marriages before.  His question had been straightforward.  It deserved a straightforward answer.  "No."  She smoothed the skirt of her dress self-consciously and brushed a stray hair back from her face, a nervous gesture that did not go unnoticed by Thomas.

 

"My first marriage was arranged and it was a disaster.  Not all arranged marriages are as happy as yours was, Thomas.  You and Anne were the exception.  My husband was abusive-in every sense of the word.  Physically, emotionally-his death was a blessing."

 

"Dear God," Thomas whispered, appalled that any man could lay a hand in anger on so gentle and loving a woman as Elizabeth.

 

"My second marriage was arranged as well.  Cecil was much older than I and without an heir.  I was no more than a brood mare to carry on his family name.  When he died without issue, his family cast me out without a penny.   My marriage to Philippe Leland was the most successful of my three marriages.  He was kind to me, he even loved me in his own way and I him.  I bore him two beautiful children and he left me a wealthy widow.  Does that shock you, Thomas?"

 

It did, but he didn't voice his disapproval.  "Did you mourn his passing?

 

Elizabeth shrugged.  "I suppose I did, in my own way.  Ours wasn't the love of a husband and wife, Thomas," she tried to explain.  "We were content with each other's company.  That is all.  There was no grand passion involved.  That escaped me in all my marriages."

 

He hesitated.  "Were you ever unfaithful to any of your husbands?"

 

Elizabeth sighed, her voice full of regret.  "No," she admitted.  "But for the promise of one night in the arms of a man who truly loved me, I would have in a heartbeat."

 

Elizabeth!" he exclaimed in shock.

 

"Don't judge me, Thomas.  You have no idea what it's like to be bartered off like so much chattel-- to be inventoried along with your husband's horse and his..."   The tears she had fought so valiantly to suppress fell freely down her cheeks.   Thomas' wounds weren't the only ones that had reopened this evening.  Hers had been festering for far too long.  "I would have given my soul to be loved.  Truly loved."

 

Thomas pulled her into his arms and embraced her, his lips pressing gently against her forehead.  "Shhh," he whispered soothingly.  "You're loved now."

 

Her arms circled his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder.  "And I thank God every day for it."  She lifted her head and looked into his eyes.  "Have you any idea how much I love you?"

 

He smiled and caressed her cheek.  "If it's half as much as I love you, then God has truly blessed me."  His head swooped down and his lips crushed hers with a possessiveness that shook  her to her very core.  The kiss could have gone on forever if not for the crack of lightning and the sudden downpour of rain that drove them from the shelter of their leafy bower.   Elizabeth squealed with laughter as Thomas shielded her beneath his cloak and they sprinted back to the haven of the castle.

 

 

 

The storm continued throughout the night, alternating between a gentle summer shower and a torrent of gale winds and rain that stung with needlelike force.  Thomas sat at the dining table, quietly breaking his fast on a simple meal of fresh baked bread and stewed pears.  He had left Lady Elizabeth abed, not wanting to wake her.  Her sleep had been as restless as his own.

 

Elizabeth's tales of her marriages had left him troubled.  Had Anne found her marriage to him equally unbearable?  She had been given no say in the matter.  It had been Thomas' choice to accept her as wife or refuse her.  He had found her enchanting, a timid young girl whose will could be bent to his own.  It was only in retrospect that he could admit that her eyes had been filled with sadness more often than not.  She had loved him, of that much he was sure, but it was love born of familiarity and contentment-not the kind of love dictated by the heart.

 

He shook off his reverie and turned his attention to his eldest son.

 

"It's fortunate that we reinforced the pens last week," said Armus between mouthfuls of bacon and eggs.  "They never would have withstood these high winds."

 

Thomas nodded and was about to reply when the door to the private dining room flew open and Baron John Mullens stomped in dripping wet and unannounced.  His anger was palpable.  It was déjà vu all over again.

 

"Where is she?" he bellowed.

 

"Who?"

 

"Alexandra, that's who!  Her bed's not been slept in, her horse is missing!"

 

"Calm down,"  said Thomas with a composure he did not feel.  "We'll find her."

 

"You promised you would talk to him!  You promised to keep him away from Alexandra!"

 

A sinking feeling enveloped Thomas.  Cedric had not come down to breakfast.  He had just assumed that his son preferred to remain in his room and sulk.

 

"Eleanor, go to your brother's chambers and tell him I wish to see him immediately." 

 

The effervescent redhead jumped to her feet and rushed from the room without a word.  Thomas pulled Richard aside and lowered his voice in a half whisper.  "Go to the stables.  See if any of the horses are missing."  Richard nodded solemnly and did his father's bidding.

 

The minutes passed like hours before Eleanor finally returned, her face flushed.  "His room is empty.  It looks like he packed in a hurry."

 

Richard reappeared moments later, soaking wet.  The grim look on his face gave them the answer before he ever spoke the words.  "Cedric's horse and saddle are missing."

 

"I'll kill him!"  Mullens vowed.

 

"Calm down," Thomas reasoned.  "They couldn't have gone far in this storm."

 

"Where could they be?"

 

The Friar stepped out of the shadows, wringing his hands nervously.  "I have an idea where they might have gone," he stuttered timidly.

 

"You, Friar?"  challenged Thomas in disbelief.  "What do you know of this?"

 

"Cedric and Alexandra came to my cell last night.  They asked me to marry them in secret."

 

"WHAT!!!" Mullens and Grey shouted simultaneously.

 

"In all good conscience, I had to refuse them," the friar hastened to assure them.   "I tried to counsel them, but...I think they may have headed to the shire of Morehead to find a priest who would perform the holy sacrament for them."

 

"Oh dear Lord," exclaimed Mullens, panic etched on his face.  "Could God be so cruel?"

 

"Have faith, man!" Thomas ordered.  "No priest would conduct the holy rites without first posting the banns."

 

"That's true," the Friar agreed.  "Usually," he added under his breath.

 

"What?  What was that?"

 

"Well, some priests have been known to-um-bend the rules when their palms are graced with a few coins."

 

Mullens groaned in complete and utter despair and collapsed in a nearby chair.

 

Thomas took control of the situation with the aplomb of a master strategist.  "Richard!  Armus!  Get the horses ready.  Armus, you'll ride to Morehead with the Baron.  Richard, you head to Herefordshire.  The bridge may have washed out and they may have tried another route."

 

"I'm going too," Eleanor announced.

 

"You're staying here in case your brother returns.  If he does, you are not to let him out of your sight."

 

"But, I want to go with you!"

 

"For God's sake, Eleanor, for once in your life can't you do as you're told without arguing with me?"  Thomas Grey was furious and he would brook no debate with his children. 

 

Eleanor stepped back, acquiescing to her father's wishes.  "Where will you go?" she questioned quietly.

 

"I have an idea where they may be.  If I'm wrong, then the others may find them."

 

The men gathered up what provisions they needed and hurried out to the stables.  In minutes, they were gone.  Eleanor sat alone and forlorn at the massive dining table, fear and concern etched on her face.

 

"Oh Cedric, what have you done?"

 

The Friar still did not wholly understand what was going on, but he knew that prayers could work miracles-and he would invoke the most powerful prayer he could.

 

 

 

The ride that should normally have taken an hour took twice as long in the driving rain.  If Thomas had not been so familiar with the terrain, he would have missed the familiar landmarks that led him to the hunting lodge.  He saw the rising smoke from the chimney before he ever saw the  structure itself, and as he drew closer, he made out the forms of two horses tethered to the post outside the modest dwelling. 

 

"Please God," he prayed silently as he drew nearer, "let it be them."

 

The relief he felt was overwhelming when he recognized Cedric's stallion shifting restlessly next to the gray jennet he assumed belonged to Alexandra. 

 

"Dear Lord," he entreated, "let them be all right---so I can kill them with my bare hands."  He dismounted, tied Killicrate next to the other two horses and entered the lodge without warning.

 

At the first sign of an intruder, Cedric had drawn his sword, brandishing it expertly.  The tip was poised an inch from the throat of the would-be assassin before he was barely through the door.

 

"Cedric!!!!"

 

The youth recognized the voice before he recognized the form.  "Father?"  He lowered the offending weapon immediately.  "What are you doing here?"

 

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Thomas Grey bellowed in frustration.  He heard a whimper.  Seeking the source of the cry, he saw Alexandra standing by the fireplace wrapped in her cloak.  She was pale and obviously frightened.  Thomas turned back to Cedric.  "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.  Cedric nodded .  Thomas turned his attention to the young girl.  "Alexandra?"

 

"I'm fine, Sir Thomas," she answered in a small voice.  "Truly."

 

Thomas returned his attention to his son.  "How could you?  Do you have any idea the agony you've put us all through?"

 

"I'm sorry, Father," Cedric apologized, unable to look his father in the eye.  "I was angry.  I guess I just wasn't thinking right."

 

"You weren't thinking at all!"

 

"Sir Thomas?" interrupted Alexandra meekly.  "My father---is he all right?"

 

"The last I saw of him, he was on the verge of having a stroke."

 

Her lips started to quiver, then she covered her face with her hands and started to weep.  Thomas rolled his eyes  heavenward.  Lord, give me strength.

 

Cedric cleared his throat experimentally.  "We were halfway to Morehead when we realized what we were doing was wrong.  We were on our way back home, but the storm had gotten much worse.  I remembered this lodge and-well-we decided to take shelter here until the storm passed."  He bowed his head, staring intently at the tips of his boots.  "I'm truly sorry, Father.  I take full responsibility and will accept any punishment you see fit."

 

"Cedric, no!"  cried Alexandra.  "I'm as much to blame as you.  If you're to be punished, then so am I!"

 

"We'll discuss whether you're to be drawn and quartered or succumb to a quick beheading later," declared Sir Thomas.  "At the present, I would like to dry off as best I can."  He removed his water-ladened cloak and spread it before the fire.  Cedric moved a small bench next to the hearth for his father to sit on, then sat cross-legged on the floor himself.  Alexandra seated herself on the only remaining stool, staring into the mesmerizing flames.

 

Thomas' eyes scanned the room.  There were ghosts here.  Oh, not real ghosts.  They were the ghosts of his imagination.  He stared at the small cot in the corner, half hidden in the shadows, and could almost visualize Anne and John Mullens entangled in the throes of passion.  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the demons of his own imaginings.  It was here that Cedric was conceived.  The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him.  How odd that a summer storm should bring Cedric and Alexandra to this dwelling-a parallel circumstance to that fateful storm almost eighteen years before.   He turned to gaze at his son who sat staring absent-mindedly into the amber flames.  Fate surely had a firm grasp on this boy.  Why?  Did the sins of the father come to rest on the child?  And which father?  Thomas knew that he was as much to blame as John Mullens.  They had both played a role in this vignette of life and it would be Cedric who would be made to suffer for it.

 

The burning log snapped  loudly as it shifted in the fireplace.  Off in the distance, Thomas could hear rolling thunder.  The storm was moving out.  He stood up, stretched and went to the door, opening it a crack to peer out.  The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle and patches of blue appeared in the gray skies.  The sun would be out within the hour and they would be on their way to Covington Cross.

 

 

By late afternoon they were safely back at the castle.  Thomas sent several of his men at arms to seek out his sons and the Baron and give them the news that Cedric and Alexandra had been found safe and sound.  All was well.  Elizabeth hovered protectively over the two teenagers, as only a mother could, making sure they were given clean clothes and warm food to fill their empty bellies.  It was almost midnight before the others returned to Covington Cross, hungry, tired, and not in the best of moods.  Thomas had long since banished his headstrong son to his chambers.  The last thing he needed was a confrontation between Cedric and the Baron.

 

John Mullens looked as though he had been through hell and back.  His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles.  He looked as though he hadn't slept in days.  As soon as he stepped into the great hall, Alexandra flung herself into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder.  "Father, I am so sorry!  Truly I am.  I never meant to cause you such distress."

 

He hugged her tightly, but his gaze was on Thomas, his eyes filled with gratitude.  "Where did you find them?

 

Thomas hesitated.  "They were on their way back home when they were caught in the deluge.  Cedric had the foresight to take refuge in a small hunting lodge near the outskirts of Chelsea Field.  They were waiting out the storm when I happened upon them."

 

If Mullens had looked pale before, he turned positively ashen at Thomas' words.  "How fortunate you were able to find them."

 

"I think fate may have played a hand in it."

 

John Mullens stroked his daughter's hair reverently.  "Alexandra, get your things.  We have a long ride back to Torsun-Narr."

 

Elizabeth's eyes widened in alarm.  "Thomas?" she prodded as she entwined her arm in his.

 

Thomas Grey didn't even hesitate.  "John, it's late.  You're exhausted.  You and Alexandra are welcome to stay here and get a fresh start in the morning."  Thomas knew he was never going to be friends with John Mullens, but as a father, he understood the hell he had just gone through.  Civility seemed to be the order of the day.

 

Richard and Armus exchanged shocked looks.  Less than a week ago their father had threatened to kill this man and now he was offering him shelter under his own roof?  He had obviously been out in the rain too long.  He was delirious.

 

 

"Thank you, Thomas, but no.  I'm sure you understand that I'm anxious to get back home."

 

Thomas nodded his understanding.  "Of course.  But at least take one of our coaches and a few of my men for protection---for Alexandra's sake.  We can send your horses on in the morning."

 

Mullens hesitated only briefly, then nodded his agreement.  Thomas motioned for Richard and Armus to make the preparations as he walked the Baron to the front of the castle.

 

The Baron stopped and grasped Thomas by the arm.   His eyes were filled with concern.  "When you found them, were they...did they..."

 

"Nothing happened," Thomas assured him.

 

His sigh of relief was audible.

 

Thomas slapped him on the shoulder.  "Go home.  Hug your daughter.  Get a good night's sleep.  You can plan her execution tomorrow."

 

Mullens chuckled in spite of himself.  "How will we ever survive this, Thomas?"

 

Sir Thomas Grey raised his eyebrows and smiled.  "One day at a time."

 

The coach pulled up to the main entrance as Richard and Armus gave orders to the driver and several of the guards they were sending as accompaniment.  Thomas walked his lifelong foe to the carriage where Alexandra sat waiting. 

 

"I'll stop by in a few days and we can see where we go from here."

 

Mullens nodded solemnly and stepped up into the carriage, closing the door behind him.  Thomas nodded to the driver and with the crack of a whip the coach lurched forward and disappeared into the cover of the night.

 

 

True to his word, Sir Thomas Grey, Lord of Covington Cross, arrived at the gates of Torsun-Narr four days later.  Much of the past few days had been spent on his knees in the chapel, seeking divine guidance on his dilemma with Cedric.  As punishment for his foolish misadventure, Cedric's days were spent cleaning out the stables, his nights spent in prayer and inner reflection under the tutelage of the Friar.  He had promised to stay away from Alexandra-and he meant it.  But Thomas knew that eventually the pull of the heart-and the loins---would prove too strong, regardless of the most noble of intentions.  No.  A more permanent solution was called for. 

 

Thomas was led into the great hall of Torsun-Narr where John Mullens stood waiting for him.  The two men greeted each other cordially, though the underlying tension was palpable.  Thomas was somewhat surprised by the Baron's countenance.  He seemed calm, almost at peace, which was astonishing considering what he had been through the past few days.  To be fair, Thomas had seen a whole different side of the noble that he had never known existed.  Secrets that had been revealed had proven to be remarkably insightful into the inner machinations of this man.

 

He had no stomach for dallying.  Best to reveal his decision in the matter-a decision that brought him no joy.  "I've decided to honor Anne's request and surrender Cedric to the church.  I've made inquiries into a Benedictine Order up north."

 

"No."

 

Mullens spoke so softly that Thomas barely heard the word.  "What?"

 

"I said no."

 

"But it was Anne's final request."

 

"Anne was wrong.  Cedric isn't meant for the church.  You know that as well as I do.  They would break his spirit completely."

 

"But..."

 

"I've destroyed too many lives already Thomas.  I'm not going to destroy Cedric's too."

 

Thomas was dumbfounded by the words he was hearing.

 

"I'm not blind. You've raised a fine son.  Anne would be proud.  But the bottom line is Cedric is my blood.  I'll not have him wasting his life sequestered in a monk's cell."

 

"The church can be a very noble and fulfilling vocation," Thomas protested.

 

"For some," Mullens conceded.  "Not for Cedric."

 

Thomas threw his hands up in frustration.  "If not this, then what?  How do you intend to keep Alexandra and Cedric apart?"

 

"It's already done."

 

"What?"

 

I've sent my daughter to a convent in Northern Ireland.  It's a remote abbey run by Carmelite nuns.  She left yesterday."

 

Thomas was stunned.  "You would condemn Alexandra to the same life you just spared Cedric?"

 

"Don't be daft.  This is just a temporary measure until I can arrange a proper-and profitable-marriage for her.  I have several lucrative prospects lined up already."

 

His callous words didn't fool Thomas for a minute.  He knew how much Mullens' adored his daughter.  This enforced separation must be tearing him apart.  "John..."   He reached out to him, an act meant to be comforting.  

 

Mullens shied away from the touch.  He needed to be strong.  He didn't want anyone, least of all Thomas Grey, to know that he was dying inside.  Alexandra's final words to him had been spewed with venom.  She vowed to hate him till she took her last breath and he had no doubt that she meant it.   She would never know the sacrifices her father had made in her stead.

 

"We could tell them the truth," Thomas offered.

 

"For what purpose?    Alexandra and Cedric would be traumatized, Anne's memory would be sullied forever and two families would be utterly and completely destroyed.  Leave it as it is, Thomas."

 

Thomas stared at this stranger who stood before him, catching just a glimpse of the hidden nobility that Anne must have seen so many years before.  It was not lost on him that John Mullens could have destroyed his family at any one moment over the past years.  He had the power.  Anne's letters would have torn the Grey's apart as surely as the sun rose and set everyday.  But he didn't.  His love for Anne was that strong.  That knowledge in itself gave Thomas the strength to forgive him.

 

Mullens walked over to a mahogany sideboard that stood against the wall and picked up a small object wrapped in fine silk.  He handed it to Thomas.  "If you have no objections, I'd like Cedric to have this.  It's been in my family for generations, handed down from father to son.  There's no need to tell him where it came from."

 

Thomas accepted the package and slowly stripped the square of silk away.  Hidden within lay one of the most magnificent daggers he had ever seen.  The sheath was made of intricately carved gold and inlaid with flawless rubies, emeralds and sapphires, as was the handle of the blade itself.  It was a stunning heirloom.  "Are you sure you want to part with this?"

 

"It's Cedric's by right." he declared firmly, then managed a faint smiled laced with amusement.  "Perchance it will inspire him.  I recall Alexandra telling me that Cedric intended to become the greatest knight in all of Christendom.  Who are we to deny his destiny?"

 

Thomas smiled.  "Who indeed?"

 

"One last thing, Thomas.  I would prefer you not tell Cedric about Alexandra's whereabouts.  We wouldn't want him to orchestrate some grandiose rescue attempt, now would we?"

 

"Heaven forbid,."

 

And so they parted company.  Two men who were never destined to become friends and yet, were forever bound together by their love for a singular woman.

 

 

John Mullens sat alone in his study.  Despite the flames that danced vibrantly in the massive stone fireplace, he felt cold.  Cold and terribly alone.  He rubbed his eyes and sighed.  He was exhausted.  Sweet heaven, he felt as if he'd lived a hundred lifetimes in the last month.  Wearily he stood up and crossed the room to his desk.  There was one more tie he had to sever before this saga was complete.  He lifted the silver box and opened it, reverently lifting the fragile parchments that lay within.  As long as Anne's letters remained in his possession, there existed the possibility of discovery.  He walked back to the fireplace and stood watching the flames for several minutes.  "Goodbye, Anne," he whispered softly.  With a flick of the wrist, he tossed the letters into the fire, watching as the flames licked hungrily at the new fuel.  They were gone in seconds.

 

He sat back down in his chair.  He had nothing left of Anne now except memories and he feared that time would steal those from him as well.  Maybe it was better this way.  He closed his eyes and gradually drifted into a fitful sleep.  Forgotten up in his bookshelf sat a book of poetry, its pages harboring a single lock of ebony hair.

 

 

 

 

THE END