Title: Relative Strangers, Part 3

Author: Polly

Disclaimer: Please see part one.

 

 

At long last, the entire entourage was ready and waiting by the carriage.  William and Richard

had been mildly surprised by their sudden involvement and William was sure he would be needed back at the castle, but he had obeyed his father’s instructions and hastily prepared for the journey accordingly.  Eleanor, of course, was upset at being left out, but as Charles pointed out, there would be little enough room for the boys and himself as it was without her as well.  Richard also pointed out that the Courts were no place for a woman and earned himself a heavy scowl from his uncle, whilst Thomas placed a firm but gentle restraining hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. 

 

As they climbed into the carriage, Thomas lent through the window to give them a last few instructions and to bid them safe passage.  “Now remember,” he said, as he had several times before, “I want you all to enjoy this trip and to come away all the better for it, but I also want you to mind your uncle and to do as he tells you.  Though this instinct for obedience may not come naturally to you (as I am so...frequently reminded), I have hopes that it will learn to show itself for my brother’s sake.”  They rolled their eyes and nodded their agreement appropriately.  Thomas was aware that the response was the best he was likely to get and so decided to settle with it.  “Very well then.  God Speed, all of you.  Try to return in one piece,” he added.  He embraced Charles lightly as he was last to climb up and they exchanged their own private farewells.  “I wish you every success in your affairs, Charles.”

“Thank-you, Thomas.”

“Take care of them, Brother - I leave them in your hands.”

“I will, Thomas - you have my word.  I assure you, they are as dear to me as they are to you.”  Then they exchanged fond smiles before finally parting company.

 

As the horses were finally given leave to pull away, the carriage jerked forward as they slowly made their way out of the courtyard and through the gates of Covington Cross.  Cedric leant back in his seat, glad of the luxury the padded seats of the carriage afforded him.  Richard and William immediately began to discuss their trip with Charles, ignoring Cedric for the moment.  He considered this to be fair enough, as they had not been informed of the details of the journey as he had been. 

 

His gaze travelled to the receding grounds of his father’s castle.  At least he assumed it was still his father’s - as far as he knew, Charles had made no move to reclaim the property though it was his by birthright.  On the road ahead of them, a cart of vegetables overturned, its contents spilling out onto the path.  Their driver slowed them to a halt whilst men and women rushed to reload the cart and Cedric found that he now had an extra few moments to survey his home. 

 

As he stared at the familiar walls and grounds, an unshakeable feeling overcame him - a feeling telling him that this would be the last time he saw his home.  Ahead of him, the road was almost cleared, and since the horse had bolted, the peasants were now struggling to shift the heavy cart off the way.  Cedric tensed in his seat, as a little voice in his head - the one he had been consistently ignoring these past few days - told him that this was a last chance opportunity.  Last chance to call the whole thing off and return to the safety of Covington Cross.  It felt as if his entire being was screaming for him to bolt.  Uncertainly, he began to shift forward in his seat.  His uncle and brothers were still occupied with their conversation and had not the slightest interest in him at that moment.  ‘What am I doing?!’ he thought, as he sidled closer to the door.  ‘These are childish fears!  Nothing more - I’m just afraid of a little adventure.’  With a loud groan of protest, the peasants rolled the offending cart off the road and signalled for their driver to continue.  Cedric found his hand on the door handle, fingers (which appeared to be his own, though he did not remember controlling them) fastened around it, tightly.  His uncle and brothers now had their backs to him, their attention focused on the driver.  Now was his chance.  The castle was beckoning him back and a voice in his head urged him: “Yes! Now - yes!”  Shaking all over, he began to press the handle down when all at once, his breath caught in his throat.  He shot back into his seat with a thud. 

 

A lonely figure stood, shaded in the early evening gloom, just inside the castle’s grounds.  It appeared to be watching him intently.  He could feel eyes boring into his head, the gaze, penetrating his thoughts.  A chill overcame him, and with a quickened heart, he scrutinised the person as best he could.  Though cloaked and hooded, he could just about make out the outline of a woman, remaining unnoticed by all around her.  In a distant part of his mind, he heard their driver urge the horses on, and with the crack of a whip, they were moving.  Cedric could not take his eyes off the woman as they drove away - there was something about her that demanded attention, and not only that - which demanded caution.  In a last, vain effort to keep her in sight, he leaned as far as he could out of the window.  The carriage was coming up on a turn, and in just a few seconds more, the grounds would be obscured completely from sight.  As he narrowed his eyes and strained his vision, the woman seemed to sense his urgency.  The figure, small as she now was, took a few steps forward and lowered her hood.

 

His bottom jaw dropped, as he felt the colour leave his face.  A hard hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him roughly back inside the carriage.  He landed on his place with a soft thud and if his mind had been rooted in the present, he would probably have been very grateful once more, for the cushioned seats.  “What are you playing at, Cedric?!” Charles scolded, crossly.  “You must never lean out so when coming to a corner.  You very nearly had that branch in the head!”  Cedric, however, wasn’t listening.  The moment had been brief, and the distance far, but it had been enough to be sure:  it had been Nan - and she had scared him to the bone.

***

 

They had been travelling for an hour now, and had just passed out of the Grey’s boundaries.  Cedric watched as the countryside sped past.  His excitement built as the scenery became more foreign and unknown.  William had once again engaged Charles in discussion and the two of them were now debating the rise and fall of the wool trade.  For a brief moment, Cedric regretted his hasty decision to ask for his brothers to join them.  Not only was he feeling much bolder than he was earlier, the changing scenery and general excitement having eradicated his fears and replaced them with trepidation, but Charles also seemed to be giving a lot of his attention to his older siblings. 

 

“What do you think, Cedric?” Charles asked.  He looked up, quickly. 

“I’m sorry?”  His uncle smiled, benignly at him.

“William was suggesting that with news of a Cistercian abbey opening north of Covington Cross, it suggests that a decline in the manor’s wool trade is imminent?”  Cedric struggled to temper his jealousy for a moment and to bring his thoughts back to the present.  His uncle had not asked for his opinion on anything so important for a long time.  Not that he knew much about sheep, but thanks to the Friar, he knew quite a bit about the Cistercians.

“Well,” he began, sounding as knowledgeable as possible, “how...how far north are we talking about?”  To his relief, Charles and even his brothers, took the question seriously and even had to think about the answer for a moment.  Richard, who had been leaning his head against the carriage, away in a world of his own, now turned to face them, intrigued once more in the conversation.  Cedric was not sure whether he appreciated this or not.  “I heard it wasn’t so much a new abbey as it was a new grange.  It’s Waverly, isn’t it?”  Richard said.

 

“Well,” Cedric said, thoughtfully, “I suppose it is possible they may draw some of our clients, especially if they take the collecta from the smaller growers - but I think they are far enough away to not pose a threat.”  William ‘humphed’ in reply.  “Cedric, they’re the best sheep-rearers in the Kingdom - even kings have patronised them!”

“But not for a least a century and a half,” Cedric pointed out as he began to find his feet in the discussion.  “And besides, the North is better for sheep.  It’s possible they’ll concentrate on arable farming.  They’re reputation is beginning to dim and the Benedictines are providing tough competition for them.”  “They were the most stable growers of the whole market, not more than fifty years ago,” Charles remarked, eyeing the young man carefully.  For a brief moment, Cedric wondered if it was wise to disagree with his uncle before deciding that on this occasion, he may as well say what he knew on the topic.  “That is true, uncle - but they also held a near monopoly with the Flemish merchants and suppliers.  When our economy fluctuated, they had another, more stable one to rely on.  The Flemish dealers are beginning to look else where now.  Maybe we should strengthen our ties with these dealers before the new Grange is built?”  he added, tentatively. Richard regarded him curiously, whilst William’s face held just the beginnings of a frown.  A smile played across Charles’ lips as he leaned back in his seat in satisfaction.  “I believe, Cedric, that you have made a very sensible suggestion.  Don’t you agree, William?”  William nodded, clearly a little ruffled but nonetheless, secretly impressed with his little brother.  “Well then, Cedric,” Charles continued, lightly, “Let us hope that you keep those same wits about you when we get to Chester.”

 

“How long do you think it will take us, Uncle?”  Richard asked, leaning forward. 

“It is a fair distance,” Charles said, thoughtfully, “but if we keep up a steady pace, I should imagine not more than a week at most.”  “A week?!” Cedric cried, a little dismayed.  He did not think he could cope with this carriage for an entire week there, and presumably another week back.  Richard and William appeared amused at their brother’s reaction.  “We often forget how <unworldly> you are, little brother.”  Richard teased with a smirk.  “Only in <some> areas!” Cedric shot back.  Richard felt up to the challenge.  “Oh really?  Well I’m afraid your ‘travelling’ days will be limited, once you enter the Church.”  He knew he shouldn’t, but against his better judgement, Cedric could feel his feathers ruffling.  “I suppose having a whole lifetime of freedom at your disposal, Richard, has left you free to take your time in going places.  I applaud your self-restraint, thus far.”  The challenges regarding an individual’s manhood, should as a rule, not be done in confined spaces with no escape routes.  “It is you I admire, Cedric!  I can only imagine how hard it must be for you, to be forced into a life of celibacy while the rest of us actually LIVE our lives!”

“Better to be forced into celibacy by a promise than by an inability to - ”  At this point, Charles stepped in and, suffice it to say, neither Cedric nor Richard spoke a word to each other for the next hour. 

***

Night had fallen and the occupants of the carriage had lapsed into silence.  The horses were tiring and the roads were now notoriously unsafe.  As Cedric leaned his head against the carriage, he wondered when they were going to stop, and where as he didn’t know where abouts they were and there certainly did not appear to be any signs of habitation near by.  He had his eyes closed and was attempting to dose.  William and Richard it seemed, could sleep anywhere.  Neither snored (at least not loudly or frequently enough to give them away) but he could tell that they had indeed reached a state of blissful slumber. Well, he mused, as blissful as could be, when their heads were lying awkwardly against their shoulders. 

 

Though Cedric was drifting, concern of where they would stop for the night, was keeping him awake and alert.  His uncle, it seemed, never slept - Cedric could hear soft, murmured exchanges between him and the driver.  They had driven a few paces more, when Cedric was startled by the sound of a sharp whinny from the horses.  Despite his curiosity, Cedric kept his eyes closed.  He didn’t know why, but later, he would be glad he did.  Charles had turned, sharply in his seat, had leaned across the quietly dozing William and had peered out of the window.  The horses slowed up and drew to a complete halt, whilst the driver demanded to know who was there.  No reply was forthcoming and Cedric could hear and feel, his uncle climbing down from the carriage.  Cedric’s heart was beating rapidly.  He feared an attack, but something was telling him that this was something else: nothing less sinister, mind, but an evil of an entirely different nature.  He dared to open his eyes a little and though it was dark and his eyes had to readjust to their surroundings, Cedric could indeed make out the figure of a tall, hooded man.  Charles strode towards him, hand on the hilt of his sword.  The stranger stood his ground, and Cedric expected Charles to confront him - perhaps even do battle.  He considered waking Richard and William as this was one challenge he did not feel up to facing on his first venture out.  He stayed off however, and was glad that he did. 

 

As he watched, a strange scene unfolded before his eyes.  As Charles approached the man, he quickly glanced back to the carriage, Cedric presumed, to check that all inside were all right.  In any case, he quickly shut his eyes, though he doubted that in that light, Charles could have seen rightly any way.  After a pause, he opened his eyes again and continued to stare.  Charles had turned back to the stranger and had ushered him off the road to the cover of the surrounding trees.  Perhaps he intends to confront him away from us?  Cedric mused, perhaps to spare us all danger?  His vision was now almost completely useless, as even the lantern which the man had brought, did not afford much light when under the trees, thick with summer leaves.  He strained to hear what they were talking about.  He could just make out the voices, hardened and raised in anger though Charles quickly hushed him back down to a murmur.  “...Asked you what you want!?” he heard Charles demand. The man mumbled something in harsh undertones.  “Never here!” Charles spat back.  Then he handed something over to the man and abruptly turned and strode back towards the carriage.  The stranger emerged from the shadows to watch him go, and Cedric caught a glimpse of him a little more clearly.  There was something oddly familiar though for the life of him, Cedric couldn’t place it and he could make out no discernible features as the man’s cloak had been pulled tightly around him and his hood hung low over his face.  Something shone in the lantern light, and Cedric could make out a silver or gold threading around the base of the hood.  If any thing confirmed his conclusion that the man was no brigand, than this certainly did.  He heard his uncle open the door and hastily, he shut his eyes.  As his uncle climbed in and the driver started up again, he never did see what happened to the man on the road.

 

***

 

Though his mind had been restlessly turning with questions about the strange encounter, Cedric had nonetheless, finally fallen into a light sleep.  He was not sure how long he had been in such a state, but at some point, he became aware that once again, the horses had stopped and that this time, there was movement all around him.  Richard was shaking him (none too gently, either) by the shoulder in an effort to wake him.  Wearily, he opened his eyes and tentatively stretched his cramped muscles.  “What’s happening?” he asked.  Richard was too tired himself to remain annoyed at Cedric - besides, Thomas had instructed him to watch over his younger brothers on this journey and he took that charge relatively seriously.  “We’re stopping for the night, Cedric.”

“Where?”  he asked. 

“I don’t know exactly.  Stop asking so many questions and come along.  They have to tend to the horses and they can’t do that whilst you’re sitting in the carriage like a vegetable!”  His father had said to watch out for them - not to be nice to them.  Cedric got to his feet and stumbled out of the carriage.  Their driver had already disappeared - presumably with their belongings.  Cedric was a little disappointed as he had meant to surreptitiously enquire about the man on the road.  Surely the driver would have been in a better position to observe the exchange than Cedric was? 

 

He looked up at the small wayside inn where they had stopped.  It looked comfortable enough, with its overhanging thatched roof and buckets of summer flowers by the doorway.  Little windows revealed the light of a small fire, burning in the hearth of the kitchen and offering a glow of hospitality to weary travellers.  One by one, they clambered through the narrow door and huddled in the entranceway.  An old woman stood by the staircase.  Her face was weary, yet kind and strands of silver hair had fallen out of her hood, gently framing her rounded face.  In her right hand,  she held a lantern, recently lighted, for Charles to take and Cedric noticed three unlit candles in her other hand.  Charles must have made their arrangements and paid for their lodgings already for the servants seemed to require nothing from them at that moment.

“This way, if you please, my Lord,” she murmured, indicating the wooden stairs.  They all followed her lead, suddenly very anxious to be tucked up soundly in bed.  Charles took the lantern she offered him with a slight nod of thanks and she glanced, embarrassed at the other three.  “Forgive me, Sirs,” she explained, quietly, “I did not know there would be so many. We haven’t much call for lanterns at this time of year.”  They all quickly assured her that the candles would suffice very nicely and hastily took theirs so that they could be on their way. 

 

They filed up the stairs one by one, leaving the old lady behind, despite her offer to show them to their rooms.  Charles assured her that he had been there before and knew where each room allocated to them, was.  Cedric was the last to move past her, and as he did so, he caught his footing in a dip in the woodwork and stumbled a little.  At once, the woman gave a startled gasp and caught hold of his arm to steady him.  “Forgive me, young Sir,” she said, hastily.  “That step has needed mending for some time now, but Jack never seems to do it.”  She seemed so flustered, that Cedric made sure she was looking directly at him when he assured her that it did not matter - he wanted her to see that he was sincere.  As she looked at his face, however, she gave a soft gasp though he had no idea why. “Cedric?” he heard his uncle call from upstairs, obviously having heard the noise.  “Richard, go and see if your brother is all right.”  All at once, the old woman released his arm as if it were scalding to the touch and quickly backed away, thanking Cedric for his understanding and muttering apologies again as she disappeared into the kitchen.  He shook his head, clearly baffled but too tired to give it much thought.  Richard shook his head in mild exasperation when he heard about the step, but Cedric just ignored him and allowed his brother to guide him to his own room.  The events of that day and night, gradually swirled into a foggy haze, which settled in the back of his mind as he lay down in his bed, letting the comforting blackness of the night, overcome him.

***

 

He woke late the next morning.  The midday sun was nearly high in the sky and all around him, Cedric could hear the noises of everyday work.  He rose and moved over to his little window.  The daylight afforded him a much better idea of where they were.  He could see the road which they had followed the previous night, leading up to the inn on his left and in front of the building, there appeared to be some kind of timber yard.  A narrow path led off directly ahead of them and judging by the throng of passers-by, he guessed it led either to houses or to the local village.  Which village that would be, he was still at a loss for.

 

He heard a knock at his door.  It pushed open a moment later, regardless of his response (had been given time to make one).  William poked his head inside, “Finally! I thought you’d never wake up.  We’re all downstairs and if you want any kind of break fast than I’d hurry up if I were you.”  With that, he left as abruptly as he’d entered. 

 

When Cedric arrived downstairs after hastily dressing, he found his family seated around a fairly large oak table in the centre of the room. Smaller tables with stools were grouped in little pockets around the room, and he surmised that this must also be the tavern.  “Good afternoon,” Charles greeted.  Cedric shyly took his seat in an empty chair next to Richard.  They were all busy tucking into bread and pottage - not exactly as filling as he would have liked but Cedric assumed that was the usual for breakfast in these parts.  Wherever they were.

“Hello,” Cedric returned. Charles grinned at him, “I suppose you will be wanting something to eat?”  He watched Cedric’s sheepish reaction with some amusement before he raised his arm and signalled to the server.  It was obviously some kind of pre-arranged sign for the man went straight into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with another tray of food. 

With food inside of him (albeit a little less than he would have preferred) Cedric felt much more awake and lively.  “Where are we, Uncle?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“In a small village just outside of Oxford, called Cuckfield.”

“Oxford?” Cedric asked in surprise.  “I had no idea we’d travelled that far in one night.”

“You’d be truly amazed at how far a man can travel if he just keeps a steady pace and stays from resting every hour God sends,” Charles replied, smoothly.  Cedric hesitated.

“We didn’t stop...at all then.  For the entire journey?”  Charles stilled slightly.

“We stopped once to move a deer off the path,” he admitted, carefully.

“Oh.” Cedric did not feel it wise to push the matter any further. 

 

“What is the plan for the day, Uncle Charles?” William asked, eagerly.  Charles turned to focus his attention on him.  “Well, the horses have rested and have been fed and watered.  We may remain here for an hour or so and take some exercise and then we will be on our way North again.” “Where in Chester are we headed to?” Richard asked.

“A town named Christelton - I’ve heard Chester is relatively small so it should not be too hard to find.”

“Haven’t you been there, Uncle?” Cedric asked.

“What?”

“Well, I only meant if your knowledge of Chester is from hearsay only, then how can you have had business in a place you’ve never been to?”  William and Richard also leaned forward in interest.  Charles’ fingers gripped his goblet a little tighter than necessary.  “I meant, Cedric, that I have not been to Christleton before.  I had not ventured far into Chester on my last visit and did not explore it well,” he explained, slowly and carefully.  All three nodded in understanding, but now William and Richard were subjected to the first, tiniest seeds of doubt.

 

They finished their food and drink quickly, eager to be out in the summer air and to stretch their muscles properly.  William and Richard found two long, thick poles and decided they were adequate as quarterstaffs.  They enthusiastically began their practice under the wary eye of Charles, who had experienced enough of the current generation of the Grey family, to know that combat should never be assumed friendly.  Cedric appeared to be excluded from the activities again, but he didn’t mind.  During his late breakfast, he had made up his mind to do two things: firstly, to find and question their driver; and second, to talk with the old lady from the night before - neither of whom, appeared to be any where in sight.

 

He left his brothers and his uncle, and wandered away from the inn.  There didn’t appear to be much to see in any direction so he picked the winding path, which he had earlier assumed, led to the village.  Side-stepping the occasional peddler, he made his way along the road, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face.  Presently, he rounded a corner, and the road came to an end.  Before him stood the village of Cuckfield - small, but seeming to serve the general need with a blacksmiths, a few lodgings and some market stalls.  The village was too small to have its own church, but on a hill in the distance, Cedric could make out the imposing form of the church of the neighbouring town. 

 

The general hum of the crowd was somehow comforting to him.  Perhaps he had been in the company of too few, lately, he wondered?  He turned right, and headed up a rising slope in the direction of the church.  The Friar would have been quite impressed by his instincts, he thought in amusement.  As he wandered, he was surprised to see another tavern, standing by the wayside.  He immediately thought of their driver.  It might be possible to find him in there, and people were bound to have seen him that day so he could always ask.  He realized, with some irritation that he did not know the man’s name and he could not quite recall his features clearly. Asking about him may prove more difficult than he had anticipated.  The man was not a part of his father’s retinue - he had come with his uncle as part of his own personal service.  He, and a few others like him, had arrived at Covington Cross a few days after Charles. They kept mostly to themselves and Cedric and his siblings had rarely spotted them around the castle or grounds.  Still, he thought, I imagine that a stranger’s a stranger in these parts - he’s bound to have been noticed.  He pushed open the little door and stepped inside.  Even he had to stoop to enter as a heavy beam hung low across the thresh hold. 

 

It was still relatively early and few had taken respite from the day’s work yet for their midday food.  A man sat at a table in the far corner of the room, carving some form of drinking vessel with his knife.  Another sat almost draped over his tanker of ale and looking none too aware of the world.  From the kitchen Cedric could hear at least two more.  He walked over to the man with the knife. “Pardon me, Sir”, he began.  The man paused his carving long enough to glance up at him.  He took a cursory glance at Cedric’s clothing then placed his knife and goblet on the table beside him, in supposed deference of his status.  Cedric could tell that it was merely a formality - the man’s eyes still regarded him suspiciously.  “I’m looking for a man who arrived here late last night,” Cedric continued.  “He is about your height, I imagine, about your age and bearded (I think)”.  The man’s expression was a mixture between irritation and amusement.  “Can’t say’s I recall a man of that <precise> description round here,” he told him, humour shining behind his eyes.  Cedric guessed that the humour was mocking him but he didn’t care.  “Do you think the man over there has?” he asked, pointing to the fellow slumped over his drink.  His companion chuckled, “Old Robin comes awake when they try to move his ale!  He’s been like that most of the day and I’d wager the night, too.”

 

Cedric appeared a little disheartened.  The man decided to take pity on him - after all, he didn’t appear to be as great a nuisance as he had originally thought him.  “Do you have a name for this fellow?” he asked.  Cedric glanced at the ground in embarrassment.  “No,” he admitted.

“Who is this man to you, then?!” he asked Cedric in amused exasperation.

“My driver,” he explained.  At this, the man became a little more serious.  He’d known a few travellers in his time who had been stranded in far off villages because their help had decided to take an unexpected leave of their duties.  Some of these types had even been friends of his, and openly he had laughed at the misfortune of the rich and helpless who then had to manage as best they could:  but this was different.  The lad was a good enough boy and in any rate, about the same age as his own son.  He would be loathe to have his own boy lost and without help, especially if this driver had taken the youth’s money as well.

“Well then, young Sir, let us see if Peter or Martha have not seen him?”  He rose and moved to the kitchen.  “Hey!” he called out.  A plump, red-faced gentleman poked his head out of the serving hatch.  “What do you want, Tobias?” he called.  “Heaven forbid you would actually be buying a drink!”  “Never fear, Peter,” he replied, wryly, “your faith is sound.  We are looking for a man, new in town last night.  Perchance you’ve seen him about the village?  My height and age...probably bearded.” Peter frowned in concentration.  “Not to my knowledge but I’ve not been out far this day, nor has Martha.  She’s done her back a hurt, you see and has not been round to collect the vegetables as she’s want to do.  She always spies things along the way - you know how women are: if it’s something to gossip about, they’ll be sure to note it.”  Tobias chuckled, politely.  As far as he was aware, Martha was one of the hardest working women that he knew and he hardly considered it fair to label her a gossip.  Still, he knew his friend meant it kindly.

 

“Who is to make the collection then?”

Peter frowned. “Abigail said she would drop them round this morn but it’s high past time already.”  Tobias seemed surprised also.  “It is not like her to be late for anything.  Did she seem well?”  “Oh, for sure!  Somewhat distracted, I’ll tell you that much - who knows over what!  I tell you, these women get hysterical all too quickly.  Still, she did not mind leaving the inn for a while - she seemed in quite a hurry to be without!”  Tobias looked thoughtful.  Abigail had lived in the village of Cuckfield for nigh on fifteen summers.  Next to Martha, she was one of the most sensible and least hysterical women he knew.  She made it her business not to gossip or interfere in the affairs of others and though she was friendly to all, she seldom took note of what went on around her, content to tuck herself away in her little inn for the most part.  To his best recollection, the only remarkable thing which Abigail had done, was to never marry - or if she had married, she had either left him or been widowed.  Her entrance into the village had been hasty and a woman arriving on her own, had caused some tongues to wag about cuckolded husbands or other disreputable things.  That had, however been a long time ago and had, for the most part, been forgotten by all.  All this led Tobias to wonder: what was it that had caused Abigail such panic after all this time?

 

Drawing his mind to the present, he turned back to Cedric, who had been waiting patiently for the most part, but who was now beginning to anxiously look out of the window.  Cedric supposed he really should tell Tobias that he had not been abandoned here, as that was the impression he was getting from the man, but he also realised that he was receiving a deal more help this way.  He decided that if it began to look like Tobias was greatly putting himself out for him, then Cedric would confess the truth.  His conscience appeased, he waited until (as he saw now), Tobias turned his attention towards him.  “Well, young man,” he said, “you might try in the village.  Tom the Blacksmith might know.  What name have you, by the by?”

“Cedric Grey,” he replied, his gaze returning to the window.  He had suddenly become aware of the passage of time, and did not know how quickly his uncle would want to depart.  One quick sweep of the village and then I’ll return, he promised himself.  After all, what was the use of trying to finding him when they would only have moments to talk in?  In all likelihood, whilst he was searching the village, their driver would be sitting atop the carriage with an irate uncle waiting inside. 

 

At that moment, the little door swung open and a woman pushed inside, her arms full with a large wicker basket, laden to the brim with potatoes, onions and other vegetables.  She did indeed seem flustered and barely noticed the company around her.  “Abigail!” Peter cried, happily.  “Thank the Lord!  Here, I’ll take those and put them in the kitchen.”  He moved to relieve her of her burden and then having done so, disappeared out to the back.  Tobias looked at her curiously, as did Cedric.  Her old, drawn face seemed familiar.  Suddenly, it dawned on him - she was the landlady from the inn last night who had appeared so scared to see him.  His heart leapt as he realised that she was also the second person who he had been meaning to talk to that day.  All thoughts of questioning their driver, vanished as she stood inside the doorway for a moment, regaining her breath.  At length, she noticed Tobias’ concerned look and smiled at him in reassurance.  “How are you, Tobias?” she asked, politely.  “Aye, well, I thank you, Abigail.  And how do you fare this day?”  She did not answer him, however: her gaze had fallen upon Cedric.

 

For a moment, she stood still, staring at him and he at her.  He wondered if she would turn and leave again, for something was clearly telling him that he was the reason she had disappeared that morning: he was the reason she was so distressed - what he didn’t know, was why.  She did not run, however, she did not even walk away: what she did do, surprised him.  Abruptly she turned to Tobias and whispered something into his ear.  He listened carefully, then nodded his assent to something.  Then she turned to Cedric and said, “You had better follow me, Master Cedric.”  She did leave the tavern then, and Cedric was so startled for a moment, that he simply stood on his spot, not moving.  When he realised she was gone, however, he quickly followed her out onto the street, casting a puzzled glance at Tobias as he left. 

 

Abigail walked briskly up the gentle hill and despite her age, Cedric had to make good speed to keep up with her.  They walked in silence, Abigail with her eyes straight ahead.  At length, she slowed and turned them into a small garden where a bench stood by a high brick wall.  They moved over to it and sat down.  “It used to belong to our herbologist,” she explained, indicating the garden with one hand, casually.  Cedric nodded, politely though he was overflowing with curiosity.  “He died a year ago,” she went on, quietly, her voice laden with sadness and regret.  “This garden should have been kept up.  It should have been allocated to the old man’s relatives - but it hasn’t.  Nothing has been done: sometimes, it takes people a long time to do what they have to do.”  She paused and hung her head.  Then she continued, “I suppose you want answers?”  He looked at her in surprise.  “About what?” he found himself asking.  “You tell me,” she returned.  He thought for a moment:

“Why did you react the way you did last night?  When you looked at me, and heard my name, you seemed to be afraid.  Have I done something to you?”  She smiled and shook her head.  “Then how do you know me?  I’ve never been to this place before.”

“No,” she agreed, “but I have been to yours.  Covington Cross was once my home.  You must please forgive me for last night.  I have not thought of that place in a long while and your arrival was an unexpected reminder.”  “Of what?” he asked her, leaning forward.

“Of things best forgotten,” she muttered, looking away.  Cedric decided to leave that line of questioning for a moment.  “How did you know I was from Covington Cross?”

“Your brother’s name,” she said, simply.  “He was very young when I was on the manor, but I remember Richard and I heard talk of the youngest being called Cedric.”  She paused and again, she glanced away for a moment.  “Then of course, there was him.”

“Who?”

“Sir Charles Grey.  The man I saw you with last night.”  Cedric gasped.

“You actually knew my uncle when he was at Covington Cross?” he asked, excitedly.  She nodded without saying a word.  “He’s been gone my whole life,” Cedric explained - then he stopped short.  Abigail looked at him, curiosity and fear, dancing in her eyes.  Cedric was torn:  he was desperate to know about a great many things surrounding his elusive uncle, but he was certain that it was not right to pry this way. But then again, Richard and William had admitted to questioning old servants about Uncle Charles, so it could not surely be so wrong for him to do the same.   “Abigail - do you remember much about him?”  Slowly, she nodded again.  “Well, there <is> something that I have been wanting to know about.  Apparently, I have an Aunt Mary - a sister of my mother’s.  Is it possible that you knew her?”

“Yes,” she replied, quietly.

“You did?!  Was she really in love with my uncle?”  Abigail gave a wistful smile.

“He courted her, it is true.  I used to work the brewery, and daily I would pass the gardens to pick spices for the wines.  He would take her there on occasions - bring her flowers, read her the most loving poetry you ever did hear.”

 

“So they were indeed in love.” Cedric said, thoughtfully, and a little sadly.  How it must have crushed Charles when she left, he mused.  “There was love there,” she agreed, “but from what I could gather, it did not flow equally between them.”

“How could you tell?” he asked.  She frowned.

“When he read poetry to her, his voice was as soft as the rushes, but when she rejected his advances, his anger carried in his voice and I could hear the arguments ever so clearly.  Perhaps I remember it more as they were the easiest parts to hear,” she admitted.

“Did you know that man she truly loved?” Cedric probed.  She shook her head. 

“He was of good gentry blood but that’s as much as I know of him.  His brother came to the manor shortly after she’d gone, making demands to know if any one knew of where his brother had been headed - he was in a right state.  I remember well how he threatened to cause a whole lot of trouble if we did not find out.”  Cedric raised his eyebrows in shock.

“Did he?” he asked, both amazed and impressed that this drama had unfolded in his very own home.  She shook her head, softly.  “No.  A day later or so, he returned, meek as a lamb to Covington Cross.  His brother had written him or something like that - appeased him enough to calm him down at any rate and to realise how foolish he’d been earlier.”  Cedric was shocked, “So my family <did> know where Mary had gone to?  The letter this brother received must have told them something!”

 

Again, Abigail shook her head.  “Only your father was there that day, Master Cedric.  He claimed no interest in the letter or its contents.”  She saw the hurt expression in Cedric’s eyes.  “Now, sir - you must not be too hard on your father.  He took Mistress Mary’s departure quite hard.  When Sir Charles returned, however, he was beside himself.  He left Covington Cross not long after that.”  Though loyal to his father, personally, Cedric could not blame his uncle. 

“It is strange, though,” Cedric wondered out loud, “that Mary mentioned <nothing> at all about the man she loved - I mean, if he were of good family.  Do you remember <any> conversations that she had before she eloped?”  Abigail suddenly appeared very weary and much older than she had on their sprightly walk up there.  “The day she left - I did hear something then.  No mention of who this lover was, mind but I heard the way she spoke of him and I could hear the love in her voice, plain as day.  She talked not of the marriage, either but your uncle could not stand to hear it, nonetheless.”

“It was with him that she spoke, then?”

“Spoke!  Shouted is more the truth!  He did not take her final rejection well and I daresay his words hurt her quite badly.  Perhaps if he had been gentler with her, he might have succeeded in persuading her to stay that night?  What passed between them on that parting must have personally cut him deeply.  Sometime I find it little wonder that he wished it kept a secret by all present.”  Cedric looked puzzled. “But he was alone that night.  He told me - there was no one to be sworn to silence.”

 

Quickly, Abigail rose to her feet.  “The time is drawing on, young Sir and I must return,” she said as she made to leave. Cedric, too, leapt to his feet.  “What are you saying, Abigail?” he asked, desperately.  “What won’t you tell me?” He gently caught a hold of her arm and reluctantly, she turned and faced him.  “Please!” he implored her.  Her expression was harder than it had been before.  “He was not alone that night.  Please do not ask me all that I know, but I will tell you this.  A woman followed him to the gates.  I did not see what happened at the departure, but I know that she was there.  The poor thing was heavy with child and I

know -”.  She stopped herself, suddenly as if she had said too much already.  Tears were beginning to brim in her eyes and she hastily began to make her way back towards the inn.  Cedric hurried to follow her.  “If you’ll tell me no more of what happened that night, then I beg you tell me this last thing,” he entreated as he ran along beside her.  “Tell me why you left Covington Cross.  Why you could not face us once you knew who we were.”  She slowed her pace a little though she did not look at him.

 

“When she left...when he left after, there was something...different about the place.  Nothing was the same again - it couldn’t be, and I was afraid.”

“Afraid of <what>?”  Now she did stop and she turned to face him:

“They’ll say I’m a foolish old woman - that I’m hysterical, but I tell you no lie.  In God’s honest truth, when your aunt left the castle, something truly <evil> took residence in her place, and I could not stay there a moment longer.  If they had seen, what I had seen...”  Cedric stared at her, incomprehensibly.  Without another word, Abigail hurried off away from him and for once, he made no move to stop her.  A dim and distant part of his mind was telling him how much trouble he was likely already in with his uncle for the delay in their departure, but he could not find the will to care about it.  With ever-increasing speed, his world was starting to spin from underneath him.  He had known this woman for less than a day, but he found himself believing her, and more significantly, he once more found himself doubting his uncle.  Something was terribly wrong, he realised - something much more than childhood fears: something akin to evil and intricately linked to his uncle.

 

Cedric’s feet, as it happened, regained their momentum before his brain did and the young man found himself making a hasty retreat to the inn despite his mind whirling with familial misgivings.  He knew he was late and when his senses finally registered this, he picked up his pace until he arrived at the carriage, breathless and with a stitch in his side.  Their driver had reappeared and was impatiently waiting in his seat.  As he came to a halt, three heads poked out from the carriage windows - two of them with an expression of amused annoyance and one with a decidedly darker temperament.  He bowed his head at their expressions and mumbled an apology.  “I’m sorry I am late, Uncle. I lost track of the hour.”

 

“Where were you?” Charles asked, his voice hard with anger and …suspicion? Cedric couldn’t be sure of course, but he had a feeling Charles was as wary of him as he was with his uncle.  “I was in the town.  I’m sorry,” he repeated.  William and Richard rolled their eyes but leant back inside the window, apparently satisfied with the explanation.  It hadn’t surprised them anyway – Cedric was prone to this sort of thing, at times they all were.  Besides, they were not SO late that a couple of hours of speedy riding would not set them straight.  They knew, however, from their Uncle’s silent tirade during their youngest sibling’s absence that Charles was in need of some venting of steam.  They let him get on with it while Cedric remained stationed by the carriage, his hands wringing nervously in front of him. 

 

“What were you doing in the town for all this time? Were you talking to someone?” The question caught him off-guard and Cedric momentarily feared that his uncle knew too much.  Not that he knew himself of what, but his instincts were erring on the side of caution.  “No-one, Uncle Charles.  I had promised the Friar that I would continue with my prayers during the journey.  There was a church up on the hill and I thought I’d go there for the morning.”  It was an out and out lie, and he knew it.  He only hoped his uncle didn’t.  Still, Charles had narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows, drawing his cheeks in, in a slightly sallow expression.  He knew enough of his exuberant nephew’s ‘pastoral’ leanings, and they had not presented themselves as overwhelming, to say the least.  Cedric shuffled from foot to foot, agitatedly.  His uncle remained unconvinced – he could see that.  “The church is quite a distance from this town”, Charles remarked, coldly and carefully, his gaze never wavering from the nervous boy before him.  “Y, yes, Sir. I...I may have noticed the tavern on the path and become a little…side-tracked.” It was nine-tenths of the truth.  His conscience could cope  with that  - especially when his gut was dictating the orders.  Inside the carriage, he heard his brothers snort in confirmation of their suspicions and though they never knew what they were doing, he silently thanked them for lending credence to his story.  In any event, Charles appeared satisfied.  At least of the explanation. 

 

“Your bags have been collected.  Into the carriage now, Cedric.  We have tarried long enough.”  Hastily, he did as he was bid, clambering up and across his brothers, awkwardly.  Perhaps he should have attempted escape right then? The notion was not an alien one to him – only one which, at present, he was incapable of adhering to.  “In our next rest,” his uncle was continuing, once he was aboard, “you shall not wander from my side. Is that understood?” His expression broached no room for argument and Cedric was wise to recognise this.  “Good,” Charles remarked, sternly. Then he added, almost as an after-thought but a very smooth one at that, “your father has entrusted you all into my keeping and I do not intend to disappoint him.”  His gaze swept all of the occupants of the carriage who delivered stealthily woe-full glances in Cedric’s direction at him having caused them to be inadvertently drawn in to his mistake.  His brothers were the least of his worries, however so he paid them little heed. 

 

 

The carriage pulled away from Cuckfield and back onto the main road that they had been taking the night before.  Cedric was not sure what he was expecting, but he was sure that something about the journey, or his uncle should seem different.  It did not, however and he could not think what to make of this.  ‘I should try to tell Richard and William what I’ve discovered’, he thought to himself, as the carriage trundled past forests and rivers.  Never any towns, or villages, he noted grimly.  But what if they didn’t believe him?  They liked his uncle and had no reason to suspect him of anything. Besides, he had no real evidence of his fears  - just unsubstantiated rumours and paranoia.  <Feelings> were not a sufficient cause to condemn a man.  That’s most likely what his father would say and therefore almost certainly what his brothers would repeat.  This also was not just ‘a man’: this was their uncle and their father’s long-lost brother.  Convincing them of treachery would not be an easy, or a welcomed task. 

 

Richard and William chatted amongst themselves for a while and Cedric watched them closely as they did this.  He knew they were making a small show of being annoyed with him, but all three of them knew that they didn’t mean it.  They were his brothers, his life-long companions and, when needed, his greatest friends and defenders.  He was not alone and he saw no reason why he should force himself to be so.  Their blood ran deep enough in the other’s veins to survive his suspicious mind.  He made up his mind to discuss his findings with his brothers as soon as he was out of earshot of his uncle.  Then, with a sinking heart, he remembered his uncle’s instructions that Cedric was not to leave his side when they next stopped.  How on Earth was he supposed to get them alone now?

 

Charles was apparently minding his own business on his side of the carriage, occasionally addressing a remark or two in the boys’ direction or mediating in an argument.  Nevertheless, Cedric was almost convinced that the man somehow knew what he was thinking.  He could barely even look his uncle in the eye for fear that his guilt and fear were shining through like beacons.  Charles’ attitude to the youngest member of the Grey clan, once more seemed tranquil and approving – he even attempted a joke or two with the youth.  Cedric smiled politely and duly played his part, but he doubted whether his heart could ever truly be present in their interactions again. 

 

The hours drew on and it once again became dark.  Cedric knew that they would soon be stopping for the night.  If he wanted to speak privately to his brothers, he would not have much time.  He must be quick, before his uncle had a chance to become suspicious.  When they pulled up at their lodgings, unlike the previous night, Cedric was wide-awake and alert.  He would not sleep quite so easily in his uncle’s company again.  William was lightly dozing but was easily roused.  “Where are we, uncle?” Cedric asked, quietly making certain to remain polite.  He was sure now, that upsetting his uncle could have more serious consequences than he had ever thought originally possible.  Charles appeared placate enough at the moment.  “Hexen Mead”, he answered.

“Are we nearly at Christledon?” Cedric asked as his brothers clambered out of the carriage after him and began to assist their driver with the bags.  “We’re not even in Chester yet.” Charles pointed out.  “Oh,” Cedric wondered.  “How much longer do you think?” Charles raised an eyebrow at him – a gesture which, only a short while ago, Cedric would have taken to be jovial.  Now, he was not so sure.  “Getting bored already are you?” Charles asked, lightly, his face a little tighter than usual.  “No,” Cedric assure him.  “I was just curious.” 

“Well, not too far now,” Charles informed him.  “Perhaps another day or two.”  Cedric smiled in appreciation but inwardly he felt his heart sink.  He wasn’t sure if he could take much more of this journey.  This was only one-way, too – he had the whole of the return journey to look forward to as well.  His back and arms stiffened as a sudden chill coursed through his entire body.  For the first time since his departure at the gates of Covington Cross, that voice in his head had whispered to him what he had been subconsciously ignoring the entire journey: the fear that for him, there would be no return journey. 

 

As quickly but discreetly as possible Cedric moved away from his uncle and went to the aid of his brothers and the driver.  If Charles noticed anything, he showed no sign of it.  Instead he busied himself with taking charge of the situation.  He strode into the tavern, his nephews in tow.  Cedric stood as close to his brothers as he could.  Charles requested their rooms and Cedric almost breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Charles ordering a room for each of them.  He had half feared that he would be put in a room with his uncle for the night.  Still, he harboured no doubts that his room would be the one right next to Charles’.  That, he thought, he could probably cope with, however. 

 

Richard and William were also very happy to learn that it would be possible for a meal to be made up for them all.  Even Cedric had to admit that although his appetite had been dampened somewhat, he was still fiendishly hungry especially at the mention and prospect of actual food.  As they all seated themselves around a large oak table (again they were the only occupants of the room, other than the servants), Cedric not only found that he was seated next to his uncle, but that there would have been little room for a private conversation with his brothers, even if he were seated in-between them.  He supposed that it could not seem so suspect to ask to be alone with his own brothers, but somehow Cedric did not want to try that tactic unless he had no other option. 

 

After they had eaten, Richard and William attempted to strike up an after supper conversation.  As usual, it quickly dissolved into bickering.  “You are <mistaken>, brother!” Richard insisted through clenched teeth.  “I won the prize for lance work last year.  I think <you> won for something else.  Best grown turnip, I believe.”

“Really?!” William shot back, “that does surprise me.  It was obvious to everyone present, including the lovely Lady Amelia, that the biggest vegetable was to be found growing between your ears.”  Richard laughed, tightly, his face beginning to redden a little.  “That’s not what she was telling me whilst she whispered softly in my ear.  I don’t think she thought much of you, actually.  Not with the infection and everything.”

William backed his chair up and straightened his back a little.  “What...infection?” he asked, eyes narrowed.  Richard smirked.  “The rather delicate one I might have mentioned you had.  Don’t worry though. I told her it was entirely curable, given time and complete abstinence.”

“You dirty, rotten fiend!” William exclaimed hotly.  “You could tell where her favours lay – you were merely jealous!”  Cedric rolled his eyes in dismay.  This was always bound to happen when his brothers were forced into each other’s company for prolonged periods of time without space away.  Half an hour was usually too much lately.  “Jealous? Of you?!” Richard exclaimed, now very nearly shouting, “highly unlikely brother.  Try to keep your rather pathetic dreams separate from reality.”  William made the mistake of standing in indignation.  Richard followed suit and Cedric merely groaned and rested his head in his hands.  He knew better than to attempt to interfere.  That was always left to their father. 

 

Charles had not been far away - certainly he had been too close for Cedric to attempt a secretive conversation with his brothers, even if they hadn’t been at each other’s throats.  He had been otherwise occupied with the perusal of some legal documents, but now he looked up in annoyance.  Just in time to stop whatever it was that was about to leave William’s lips.  “That will be ENOUGH, both of you!” he demanded, standing and slamming a heavy hand down on the table.  The two brothers stopped immediately and hastily sat back down, glancing down at the table.  Though Cedric was not happy to have his uncle in a foul mood, there was an absurd part of him that was glad that it was Richard and William who would (for once) be on the receiving end of his wrath.  He was glad that the last of the servants had long ago retired for the night – the last thing they all needed was an audience.  “Just what in the King’s name do you think you are doing!?”  They both mumbled a reply.  It sounded as though it could have been apologetic.  “What was that?” Charles demanded, sharply.

Richard spoke up a little louder.  “I said, it was just a slight disagreement, uncle.  We’re sorry.”

“What it <was>, was a fight, Richard. I do not expect you to be dishonest with me.”

“But I wasn’t, Uncle Charles!” Richard protested earnestly.  William nodded, for once quite easily reconciled with his brother.  “You <were>”, Charles insisted, “as was William.”  Then he turned his attention to Cedric who had assumed he was relatively safe in this particular instance.  “And what of you?” he asked.  Cedric shrugged uncertain of what he was meant to say.  “It was none of my business, uncle,” he offered truthfully.

“None of your business?” Charles repeated incredulously.  “You did not think it your business to attempt to stop a fight between your brothers?” he asked.  “You were content to simply let the whole scene spiral out of control?” Cedric couldn’t believe it. Charles had <actually> found a way to blame this on him.  Apparently William was not happy about it, either surprisingly pleasing Cedric.  “This had nothing to do with Cedric, uncle,” he insisted.  Once again, hard eyes were turned to the two elder Greys.  “Is that so?” he asked, dangerously.  They looked more than a little apprehensive.  They were used to their father becoming exasperated, even angry at their fights, but this was different.  Their father’s anger was ultimately more bark than bite.  There was something about Charles’ anger that ran far deeper than that.  “Cedric, you know where your room is.  Go there now and into bed.”  Cedric exchanged startled glances with his brothers, not knowing what to say.  “Go!” Charles added as he saw the young man hesitate, “I wish to deal with your brothers alone.”  Cedric obeyed, uncertainly and rose to his feet.  They had all earlier been shown their rooms as their bags were taken up and, as suspected Cedric had been placed next to Charles.  His heart pounding in his chest, he reluctantly made his way upstairs and into his room.  This was certainly not a night to disobey, so he quickly undressed and climbed into bed, turning to lie facing the window.  The wooden shutters were open and a cool breeze blowing through the room.  He lay staring out at the black night.  Once again they appeared to have stopped in an easily forgettable town, secluded from many inhabitants.  He focused on the nightly wildlife, on the moon and the constellations, on the faintest sounds of human activity that he could hear: soft singing, merry music, an occasional rattle of a cart.  In the distance he could make out the sounds of cattle and horses.  Anything.  Anything than downstairs.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed since he had fallen into his contemplation, but it certainly felt like at least an hour.  Now, however, he sat up in bed as he heard the sounds of footsteps on the outer landing.  He sat in absolute silence and listened, very aware of the sound of his breathing in the pitch-black blanket of the night.  Murmured voices were floating through the cracks in the doorway and he followed them down the hallway until they stopped, replaced by the sounds of creaking doors opening.  They were undoubtedly the sounds of his returning brothers.  He found himself both filled with trepidation and immensely glad.  They sounded all right.  Then something hit him like lightening: he had not heard his uncle come up <with> them.  He waited for a few moments more, listening carefully but still he heard nothing.  Was it then possible, that he was finally alone with his brothers?  He almost didn’t dare to hope so.  He could feel his heart resume its quickened rhythm in his chest, beating out an all-too-familiar staccato.  His skin prickled all over.  He was still wary of any disobedience, but as far as he could see, now was his only chance.  His uncle still had not emerged: Cedric made a decision; he took his chance.  As it would later transpire, it was to be a wise move. 

 

Swinging his legs out of bed until his feet touched down on the cool wooden floor, he moved away from the bed and over to the door.  Carefully and as silently as possible, he eased it open, aware both of the inherent creak of the wood and the possibility of his uncle retiring for bed at any moment.  He had no doubts that the man would check on all of them before he disappeared for the night and so he knew that he would have to make the meeting quick.  Once out of his room, he crept along the hallway down two doors until he got to Richard’s room.  They had not been able to obtain four rooms next to each other and so Cedric and Charles were separated from the two boys by a couple of doors.  William and Richard however, <were> next to each other.  Cedric knocked very lightly on Richard’s door.  It was only after he had done so, that it occurred to him that they might not want to be disturbed.  It was too late for second thoughts, however.  The door slowly opened and Richard peered out.  He seemed surprised when he saw who it was, though who he might have been expecting Cedric didn’t know.  “What do you want, Cedric?” he asked wearily and apparently much subdued.  Cedric hesitated for a moment.  This was the part where he was meant to tell his brothers all that was on his mind, but suddenly he was at a loss for words at how to begin.  When his mouth came to its senses, he decided to focus on the immediate concerns – standing out in this hallway was not the safest option.  “Could I come in?” he whispered, “I need to talk to you.  And William,” he added.  For a moment, he thought Richard would refuse – he was clearly considering this carefully.  Finally he relented.  “Very well, but be quick.”  He opened the door enough to allow Cedric in, and the young man shot past him gratefully.

 

Once inside, he perched himself on the foot of Richard’s bed waiting out a rather awkward silence as neither of them knew what to say next.  Cedric knew he wanted to ask Richard what had happened downstairs but he also instinctively knew that it was not something to be discussed.  He had, instead to focus on why he had come there.  “Eh, could we somehow get William?” he asked.  With an air of annoyed indifference but secretly glad of having something to do, Richard nodded curtly and moved to the wall.  He knocked three times, lightly and presently he was rewarded with two taps back.  A moment later, Richard opened his door and William was waiting there, curious but silent until he was safely inside.  “What’s going on Richard?” he asked noticing Cedric.  “You heard what Uncle Charles said.”

“I know”, Richard agreed, “but Cedric here is being very secretive.  He seems to think it’s important.”

“What is?” William asked.  Cedric took a deep breath. 

“Well, I’m not sure what exactly but, well have either of you noticed anything slightly…odd about Uncle Charles?”  He watched their reactions carefully.  Would they believe him, he wondered?  For a moment their expressions remained neutral but as his words began to sink in, they gradually became uncomfortable.  “What do you mean?” William asked, carefully.

“I mean, I’ve noticed some things here, and at Covington Cross which make me…uncomfortable around him.  Like he seems to have a lot of secrets and…and well he does have a bit of a …”

“Temper?” Richard finished for him.  Cedric nodded, not sure whether it was a good sign or not, that his fears were being confirmed.

“Now hold on a minute”, William cut in, raising a hand to forestall the line of argument.  “Yes, I will certainly agree that he’s stricter than father but if we admit it, he is not entirely unjust.  Think about it, Richard!” he urged, as his brother opened his mouth clearly to argue.  “He’s been angry with Cedric this trip, which Cedric, you’ll probably agree has influenced your opinion of him.  But his anger wasn’t totally uncalled for – you disappeared for hours, he was very worried.  As for tonight…well, Father would have been angry as well.  Uncle Charles just isn’t as used to it as Father is.”  Cedric could see that Richard was taking William’s point seriously and, though he was losing credibility for his theory, there was a part of him that longed to accept William’s theory as well.  How wonderfully easy it would be if he could dismiss all of his fears as completely irrational.  He could cope with a strict, temporary guardian, if that was the most sinister aspect about him – he really could: he’d be glad to.  “Possibly”, Richard was saying, slowly, “but when I think about it, he has been a little odd at Covington Cross as well.  Little things – not enough to really put my finger on.”

“Shh!”  William exclaimed, suddenly becoming very still and dropping his voice back down to a whisper.  They all froze.  “I think I hear him coming.  I’m going back to my room.”  With that he barely said goodnight to the other two before he slipped out of the room and back into his own.  Sure enough, there were sounds from below moving above.  Even if they had had all the time in the world, Cedric doubted whether he would have voiced his concerns about Charles’ past.  He just didn’t have the support to his claims: he didn’t even know what claims he was making.

 

“You’d better go quickly!” Richard urged.  Cedric nodded and slipped out of the room.

Once back on the landing, his eyes were plunged into blackness once more and his direction was lost.  He had to make his way carefully until his eyes adjusted to the light and he could tell how many doors down he had left to go.  The ascending creaks on the stairs were getting louder and louder and in a moment of panic, Cedric realised that he still didn’t know how much farther he had to go but he knew for sure that his uncle would appear before he had a chance to get back safely inside his room.  His mind began to race.  Not only did he not want Charles to realise that he has shared his suspicions with his brothers, but he also did not want to cause them any more trouble that night.  He would be caught regardless but there was no reason why they should be.  Charles was almost on the top step to the landing now and very quickly, Cedric spun around and began creeping in the opposite direction <towards> his brothers’ rooms.  At that moment, Charles emerged on the landing and, his eyes fully adjusted to the light, spotted the figure of the young man easily.  “Cedric!” he hissed, quietly.  Cedric turned round, pretending to be caught unawares.  Quickly he moved towards his uncle who took him roughly by the arm, dragging him to outside the boy’s own door.  “Where did you think you were going?” he demanded.  Cedric gulped.  It wasn’t hard to act nervous, even if it was for a slightly different reason than the one his uncle suspected him of.  “I, uh…I was just going to check on Richard and William.  I wanted to see how they were,” he lied.  Fortunately, Charles believed him.  He assumed.  He opened the door to Cedric’s room and pulled the young man inside with him.  He didn’t release him once inside but delivered him a stinging slap across his face before pushing him down onto the bed.  “I will not have you creeping around at night!  When I tell you to go to bed, it does NOT mean roam freely – is that clear?”  Cedric was too shocked to speak so he just nodded, mutely.  With that, Charles swept from the room and Cedric could hear him move down the hall to check on the others.  He climbed back into bed and willed his breathing to return to normal.  This had not been a good night, and though he prayed that the following would be easier, he had serious doubts on it. 

 

Continue to Part 4