Title: Relative Strangers, Part 4

Author: Polly

Disclaimer: Please see part one.

 

 

The next morning was dreaded by all of the young Greys.  They expected a stern silence, they expected another lecture: what they got, was a cheery ‘Good Morrow’ and an excited explanation that that night they would arrive in Chester.  Bafflement was quickly overridden by immense relief as they ate their breakfast without the ominous black cloud they had all been expecting over their heads.  It was only Cedric who retained an ounce of suspicion – he didn’t think it would ever truly go away. 

 

The day’s travel was also peaceful.  They had left the inn just before noon.  This time, Cedric had not veered from his family and had remained dutifully by his uncle’s side.  They made steady progress as the sun shone down on them brightly.  A gentle breeze through the carriage windows offered a much-needed relief to the heat.  All in all, it was quite comfortable – even Cedric’s spirits were lightened a little at the prospect of actually reaching Chester that night.  The sooner they arrived the sooner they could return.  He had to admit, it might even still be interesting to visit the courts.  Charles kept up a steady stream of conversation with his brothers about the business at hand, his investments overseas and how Eleanor must be driving their father to distraction by now. 

 

They stopped once more to rest and freshen up.  As the day was fine, they drank their mead by the water mill, along the stream that ran behind the inn.  As they took their boots off and stretched their legs (William and Richard deciding to dip their feet into the cool spring), Cedric asked Charles how far into Chester, Christleton was.  “Perhaps half a day’s ride”, he had answered casually.  Cedric gave the matter no more thought after that.  They began the last leg of their journey that day with at least one member of the group pleasantly surprised by the uneventful time.  Events, however, Cedric discovered would happen that very night instead and as he looked back on those days that preshadowed his darkest night, he would always regret his lack of insight and judgement on the night that they finally reached Chester.

 

The night had begun as all the others had – well enough.  By now they were all becoming quite used to the routine that had arisen: settle in; dinner; conversation; perhaps a game; then bed.  It had become so common place that Cedric had never worked out what had possessed him to try and alter it that night. 

He had however and in doing so, he set in motion a chain of events that he could never have predicted.  Later – much later, his brothers and sister would remark amongst themselves how fortunate he had been that night.  Cedric could never bring himself to share the same opinion.  He had finished dinner with his family and sat through the usual discussions.  He had actually been included this night because Charles was insisting he should be his right hand man in the courts the next day and was busy prepping him with all sorts of useful information.  After the discussions were over, the night had progressed steadily and Charles declared that they should all retire for the evening.  Everything was proceeding normally. 

 

Cedric had bade his uncle goodnight, as had his brothers and had made his way to his room.  Once inside however, he found that was not tired enough to sleep.  Perhaps he should have attempted to settle down regardless?  As he sat on the bed, idly scuffing the floor with his shoe, he did consider that.  But he was truly restless, perhaps because of the morrow’s itinerary?  Either way, Cedric decided that, despite the previous night’s warnings, the best course of action would be to go for a walk.  That decided, he paused with his hand on the door handle.  Charles had been in a foul mood last night because of his brothers but still, Cedric wanted an excuse if he should be caught roaming again.  An idea flashed into his mind: the inn was right next to a church.  He knew it would still be open this late as he could still see candles burning in the building through his window.  Technically he was still studying to be a cleric and he had meant to keep up with his prayers for the Friar’s sake.  Quickly, Cedric dragged his bag out from underneath his bed and fumbled around in it for a minute, silently swearing that he had packed it.  Presently, he made a triumphant ‘ah-ha!’ and pulled out his small crucifix.  This would make his story more convincing: he wouldn’t have to actually leave the inn, but if he were questioned, the little symbol could lend good credence to his story that he had been on his way to ask if he might be permitted to go.  Besides, he had taken the cross out once before on the journey and his uncle had admired it then, so Cedric knew that Charles was aware that he was <meant> to continue with his prayers during the journey. 

 

Safe with his excuse, Cedric slipped the small crucifix into the folds of his pocket and made his way down the passage. One careful foot in front of the other, Cedric lightly made his way along the passage, his heartbeat quickening just a touch.  A wind picked up quite strongly outside.  Cedric could hear it moaning in the trees.  He pricked his ears at a noise from downstairs.  Someone was coughing: it was his uncle.  Cedric frowned: that meant he couldn’t go downstairs yet.  He knew he could always test out his excuse, but he really did not want to do that unless he had to.  He listened as the barkeep enquired whether his uncle wanted any more ale.  “Nay, nay,” Charles declared, “I shall retire now, I thank thee.”  Cedric swore sharply under his breath.  The stairs were not that long and Charles had practically been right by them when he had last spoken.  He was determined NOT to go through the events of last night.  Rather than trying to escape, he would simply hide for the time being.  A door stood at the end of the passageway, right opposite the staircase.  Cedric tentatively tried it – it was unlocked.  Slowly he pushed it open and peered inside.  Though it was dark, it appeared empty.  Good, he thought, I haven’t the time to go wandering around.  Quickly he slipped inside and shut the door. 

 

The sounds of his approaching uncle were almost upon him.  He backed up a few steps in the darkness, suddenly feeling guilty for his trespass.  With a small squeal of shock, his foot bumped into something small but heavy behind him, almost knocking him over.  He both steadied, and quieted himself quickly and turned to see what he had just knocked, but he fervently hoped, had not broken.  At first glance, it appeared to be a wooden case: at second glance it appeared suspiciously familiar and with a third and final glance, he recognised it as his uncle’s trunk!  A wave of panic crashed over him – of all the stupid and ill-fated things to do – he had slipped into his uncle’s room in an attempt to hide from the man.  The door handle began to turn – he could not be found in there!  That much he knew for certain.  Cedric moved in a rushed daze.  Heavy spun curtains lined the window and ran the length of the wall, rolling onto the floor like a bridal train.  He made for those as fast as his legs could carry him, tucking himself well under the fabric and ensuring that his feet were completely hidden.  His heart was going nine to the dozen and Cedric was absolutely convinced that Charles would HAVE to be able to hear it thumping: it was almost deafening after all. 

 

The door creaked open: through a gap in the folds, Cedric could see a heavy-set man enter the room.  It had to be his uncle though he could be sure of nothing until the lantern was lit.  Now the thought of how he was ever going to steal out unnoticed was spinning round his head.  If he was lucky, then Charles would follow his normal routine and check on each of his charges before he retired for the night.  If he moved fast, Cedric could slip out and then test his excuse out on his uncle.  If Charles broke from routine, then the despondent young man mused that he would have to wait until his uncle was well and truly asleep and then make his break.  All in all, this was not a good night. 

 

The lantern was lit and a dim light flooded the room.  Charles gently shut the door behind him.  As Cedric watched however, he made no move to check on him and his brothers – nor did he appear to be settling down for the night.  Instead, he began pacing the floor.  He was extremely agitated and, though his vision was partially obscured, Cedric knew enough of his uncle to know the movements were angry.  The violent swish of his arms as he walked, the stomping of his feet and the sharp, abrupt spin on his heel when a wall halted his progress in one direction.  Cedric had seen all the mannerisms before.  This time, however, there was something else there, something he had not witnessed before.  For a moment Cedric could not put his finger on it though it seemed as if it should be instinctively familiar somehow.  Then it hit him: fear.  So often the instigator of it in others, this time it was his uncle who was the one possessed.  Cedric had felt that emotion many times that journey, but not the way his uncle was experiencing it now: this was not mind-numbing fear – this was dangerous fear, the kind that drives a person over whatever edge they were balancing on.  In Charles Grey, Cedric thought it a very unwise combination. 

 

He had no time to think about what had caused this fear because a sudden noise almost startled him into revealing his hiding place.  Charles didn’t notice the slight rustle of the curtains, however.  Unlike Cedric he appeared to have been expecting the noise, if not welcoming it. The noise, it turned out was a gentle but insistent knock at the door and it sounded once more before Charles slowly swung the door open.  Cedric had been leaning slightly out of his cover, but the moment a second figure entered the room, he immediately scrunched back against the wall, praying this figure was no more observant than his uncle was being.  Very cautiously, he once again peered through the crack in the curtains, both terrified and desperate to see what would unfold next.

The figure was that of a man, about the same height and build as his uncle and he moved into the room with quiet confidence.  His movements were similar to his uncle’s – angry, dangerous.  His uncle began talking first, in a low, wary voice: “This will be the last time that we meet, Edward.”

“We will meet until this matter is resolved!” Edward replied, sharply.  Cedric breathed in sharply as the man, Edward strode to stand by the window, his back to Cedric and momentarily blocking the rest of the scene from view. There was something oddly familiar about that voice.   “There is nothing more to resolve,” Charles answered, tightly, “I have given you all that I shall.  You will dissist from sending me letters at Covington Cross. They will grow suspicious!”

“The money I was given was only sufficient while you were out of the country.  You agreed to go to France and never to return to England.  You should not have broken our agreement.”

“And you should not have come here! Do you not realise that you are putting us <both> in danger?  If people should see us together…”

“And who would do that?” Edward scoffed, moving away from the window to stand opposite Charles.  Charles had not moved from his position by the bed and he stood there now, hands placed angrily on his hips. “Someone has!” he spat back, a sliver of panic in his voice.  “My nephew saw me returning from the woods after one of your pointless meetings.”  Edward’s face palled ever so slightly, his voice becoming laced with concern.  “What does he know?” he asked, sharply. The blood was pounding so quickly round Cedric’s head that he feared he might faint right then and there.  Charles ran a sweaty palm over his haggard face.  “I don’t think he knows anything,” he answered finally, “but that doesn’t mean he won’t ask more questions.” He gave a low chuckle.  “He’s like that, is the boy. Nothing like his father.  I really do admire that child.”

“But he’s not a threat yet?”  Edward asked, wanting to be very sure on this matter.

“No”, Charles replied firmly.  Was Charles…defending him? Cedric wondered – he honestly couldn’t tell.  Edward moved in to his uncle a step closer.  “This will be the last time I tell you, Charles.  The money is not enough – think of the sacrifices I’ve made for you!”  Charles grunted in disbelief. “You were perfectly happy to make them at the time,” he pointed out.

“That is irrelevant!” Edward snapped, “Remember this, Charles Grey – I have killed for you and you are always indebted to me…and my silence.”  Charles’ face darkened.

“If you talk, Edward – you will be tried along with me.”

“I know the sheriff, Charles – he would strike me a bargain, I promise you.”

“Bloodshed would go directly to the King’s Court, you fool!” Charles pointed out, venomously.  Edward stopped – it was clear he had not considered this.  The ensuing silence was unbearable: Cedric’s head was spinning with a thousand different thoughts that threatened to topple him where he stood.  Abruptly, Edward turned from Charles and stalked back towards the window.  This time he stood facing it, facing Cedric and the young man held his breath against the curtains.  Edward was close enough to reach out and touch.  The folds of his cloak brushed up against the curtain edge, causing Cedric to uselessly back away even further.  Cedric stood, transfixed: there was nothing to do but stare ahead of him and pray that this man moved away soon.  As he stared, he took in the fabric of the cloak in front of him.  It almost sparkled in the candle light in a kind of familiar way.  The gold and silver pattern caught the light perfectly.  Like lightening, a piece of the rapidly forming puzzle slotted in to place.  This man was the man from the road, what seemed like many nights ago, but in reality was only three.  The voice, the build, the clothes – it all fitted: the only thing Cedric didn’t know, was what it fitted into. 

 

Much to the hidden youth’s relief, Edward turned from the window and walked back to Charles.  “You have not won this, Charles Grey.  Rest assured I will not let this matter drop and you may expect to hear from me again.”

“I shall be expecting you, then,” Charles answered, coldly.  That was the last they spoke to each other.  As silently as he entered, Edward left the room and shortly thereafter, the inn.  Cedric waited as Charles watched him leave.  His heart surged when he saw Charles make to leave the room also. This was his chance.  His hand shot to his mouth as a sudden pain ripped through the ball of his left foot.  Cedric tried his very best to withstand the cramp, but he could not help himself: he stumbled forward a step.  Immediately he froze.  Charles had looked up from the door he was about to exit, and was now staring sharply at the curtains.  He did not move from his spot, but still his gaze lingered where Cedric remained, trembling where he stood.  He would be discovered – he just knew he would be discovered and hauled out from his hiding place – forced to reveal all that he knew and all that he suspected.  He could barely breathe from the fear and he felt his head swimming violently.  However, Charles’ gaze passed over him and he swiftly left the room.  Cedric could scarcely believe it.  He dared not make a run for it right away. Instead he waited for a few more heartbeats. The sound of the creaking stairs could be heard, then a slow but steady descent.  The footsteps faded as they reached the bottom, but then Cedric heard the unmistakable sound of the inn door opening and closing.  His uncle had left. 

 

It didn’t take him long to act.  With a panic he tore the curtains off from him as they had now wrapped themselves quite firmly around him – imprisoning him like a cocoon.  He ran from his uncle’s room and did not stop until he had reached his own.  Flinging the door open, he collapsed inside, shutting it firmly and falling down onto the bed.  His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, head and throat.  He could not will himself to fall asleep – he could not even force himself to undress.  All he could do, was crawl under the covers and pray for the light of morning.

 

***

 

He did not know when his uncle had returned that night, or when he himself had eventually succumbed to exhaustion.  All he knew is that he woke up with the sun streaming through his window.  And he was fully clothed.  He rose and stretched.  Not sure of what he should do first, he decided that a change of clothes would be required – both to avoid suspicion and ominous odours.  He brought out his travelling bag from under his bed and searched it for a change of garments.  As he stripped off his old shirt, however, a sudden fear gripped his heart.  Hastily he shook out first his jacket, then his shirt.  It was no where.  He searched all around his room but it only confirmed his worse fears: his small gold crucifix, was gone.  With a thudding heart, he could only imagine one place where it might be. He had to know – had to be sure, that his uncle <didn’t> know.  Please God, he thought to himself, don’t let him know.

 

He left his room and went to the foot of the stairs.  Chattering was coming from down stairs.  His brothers and uncle were having breakfast. ‘Excellent’, Cedric thought, ‘I’ll creep in now and check’.  Quickly he moved into his uncle’s room and made straight for where he had stayed last night.  He reached the curtains and hastily drew them back. He scoured the floor, the folds of the curtains, the floor in front of the window.  His heart sank: the cross was gone and his uncle knew.

 

***

 

Cedric had run back to his room and sunk heavily down onto his bed.  He held his hands tightly between his knees, willing them to stop shaking.  ‘I’m being irrational,’ he told himself.  ‘You could have lost that cross anywhere and even if Charles DID find it, what’s to say that he didn’t think it was his own?  Or this…Edward’s?  Or maybe even a previous guest’s?  After all he could only have had a brief glance of it earlier in the journey?’  Even as he reasoned the words in his mind, his thumping heart was telling him otherwise.  With a wave of cold air, he recalled the events of the previous night – did this mean his uncle was a murderer?  No, he thought – this Edward had actually done the deed – whatever that deed was?  He still knew next to nothing about the details, and despite his observations, he still had no proof of anything. 

 

“Cedric?” 

 

It had been William, calling from downstairs.  He jumped at the intrusion.  “What is it?” he called down, trying to sound as casual as possible.

 

“Are you joining us or not – it’s getting pretty late, you know?” 

 

He thought frantically for a moment.  It was doing him no good remaining where he was.  He may as well go and join his brothers – perhaps he could find a way of telling them what he had seen?  “Uh…yes – I overslept.  I’ll be down now.”

 

Quickly he assembled his things together, finished dressing, then went downstairs.

 

When he finally emerged in front of his family, he saw that breakfast was well and truly over.  It must be later than he had thought.  “I’m afraid you’re too late for breakfast Cedric,” Charles greeted him, lightly, “but I’ve saved you a half loaf.  You may eat it in the coach – just don’t tell your father I encouraged such bad habits.  Come now, children!  Cedric I see that you are packed – our bags are already dealt with so let us depart promptly.”  He rose from the table and Richard and William did the same. 

 

Cedric simply stood where he was, his mouth hanging slightly open, unsure of what to make of the scene around him.  Charles was jovial but by now, Cedric knew that counted for very little.  But William and Richard were there and everything appeared to be very business-like and ordinary.  He decided to comply.  At the nearest opportunity, he would discuss his concerns with his brothers.  For now though, he must board the coach and hope for the best.

 

A short, balding man came from behind him and gathered up his bags, taking them outside to the waiting vehicle.  Cedric followed him out and clambered aboard as Charles entered from the other door.  The driver had already been waiting in his seat and now Charles leaned forward to give him further instructions.  Shifting slightly in his seat, Cedric leaned out the window to see his brothers milling up to the side of the coach. “Be good, Cedric,” Richard said lightly, as he stood by his window.  “What do you mean?” Cedric demanded, alarm sounding in his voice.  His brothers should have boarded the coach by now, surely.

 

No one answered him.  Instead, Charles leant over him to speak with William and Richard.  “Now you haven’t forgotten what you have to do, have you?  I’ve left the documents with Richard and the man you’re looking for should be in the Shire Courts this morn at eleven.”

“We know what to do, uncle,” they both assured him.  At this, Cedric found his voice again,

“What’s going on?” he repeated, “where are you two going?”

“It’s all right Cedric,” Richard assured him.  “Uncle Charles has made some enquiries about purchasing some land here.  We’re meeting with the current owner today and riding up to join you tomorrow.”

“There’s no need to worry,” William added, seeing the colour slowly draining from Cedric’s cheeks. 

 

“Right then!  Drive on!” Charles called out. With a crack of the whip, the horses whinnied into action and started off at a canter.  Cedric sat back heavily in his seat, trying hard not to look at Charles seated across from him.  This had all happened so quickly that he was hardly sure what to make of it.  He glanced down at the rough road, speeding by along side them.  For the second time that journey, he felt the urge to leap from the carriage and make a run for it.  But this time, where would he run, to?  Covington Cross could not be further away and his brothers had also gone their own ways.  Above all else, what he had feared most, had now come to pass: they were alone together at last.

 

***

 

 

 

The day wore on and as much as it surprised him, it wore on too quickly for Cedric.  He had thought the hours in the carriage would drag – that one minute would seem like an hour.  But they did not.  Before he knew it, night was falling. 

 

Charles had been thoughtful, silent for most of the journey.  They had stopped without incident at a roadside inn and enjoyed a seemingly pleasant meal before continuing to Christledon.

Charles spoke lightly of the men he remembered from his last trip to Christledon and of the money owed to him from investors.  He prepared Cedric for the likely scenes of court and informed him of the small role he was to play, taking notes, bearing witness and so on.  Cedric merely nodded, his jaw set but his eyes wavering.  Neither one spoke of last night or of crosses or of suspicions.  Cedric could almost have willed himself to give in to his desire to believe Charles to be completely ignorant of his little unauthorised visit that night: almost.

 

They had arrived in Christledon shortly after noon and proceeded straight to the town court. 

 

Despite his anxiety Cedric could not help but glean a slither of interest at the pomp and ceremony.  The landed deeds were read out in Charles’ name and witnesses were brought forward to confirm his identity. 

 

“And who shall bear witness to this testimony?” the Lord had asked.

 

At a nod from Charles, Cedric had stepped forward.  “I do, My Lord, Cedric Grey.”  The lord had nodded his assent and then the parchment was handed to him.  “You will swear before Almighty God who knows all the secrets of our hearts and then make your mark upon the page.”

 

Cedric did as he was bid and when all was satisfactorily concluded, Charles made light talk with some before leading Cedric from the court. 

 

“Is the business done then, Uncle?”  Cedric had asked, tentatively. 

“Aye lad, it is.”  They were walking slowly, side by side along the riverbank.  The sun beat a weary stream on their heads and Cedric longed for the comfort of shade – perhaps a meal and drink as well.  They had not been the first order of business in the courts, and as such the evening had drawn on whilst they had been inside.  “Then we are to return to the others?  And to Covington Cross?”

Charles had looked at him, amusement dancing in his eyes.  “Of course, boy.  Or would you rather have us stay here?”

“No!” he had agreed, perhaps a little too quickly than he should have. 

“We’ll ride back then?”

“Certainly.  At first light – you cannot expect us to journey at night?  No,” he had continued, without giving Cedric time to answer, “there is a public house up the way – it will suit us fine.  Your brothers must be finishing their business by now.”

 

***

Their conversation by the riverside had been a scant two hours ago and now the dark gloom had fallen all around them, covering them all in a thick blanket of night.  It was a close fit as well.  As Cedric lay in his bed, watching the moon slowly passing across his window, he could feel the heat cocooning him securely yet unwontedly.

 

His thoughts darted hither and thither around his mind.  In the morning they would ride out, back to his brothers, to his father and Eleanor: back home.  He never thought that simple word would mean so much to him – could cause him so much grief and joy at the same time.  For a brief moment, his mind turned to his mysterious, estranged brother Armus.  He’d never seen the man, possibly he never would though his family constantly prayed for Good Fortune.  But at that moment, Cedric thought he felt closer to Armus than any of his family could ever appreciate.  They were both away from home, both uncertain of return, both alone. 

 

Though he strove to continue his contemplation, Cedric could feel his eyelids getting heavy.  They had dined well that night – in celebration apparently and Charles had been very generous with the spiced wine.  Thomas always regulated the young man, afraid of his endurance levels.  Charles had no such concerns and allowed the young man the same freedom that he often envied his brothers for.  As such, he was feeling pleasantly drowsy and mellow, almost melting into the mattress, the passing of the moon and clouds taking on the tranquil ebb and flow of the sea.  A warm breeze ruffled his hair and shirt and his gently resting eyelids grew gradually heavier and heavier till sleep finally sealed them tightly and securely shut. 

 

***

 

The sleep was deep, and filled with dreams, pleasant and light but nonetheless, at the stroke of three, he awoke drenched in a cold sweat, shivers coursing through his body.

 

At once his dreams escaped him, but not the remnants of sleep.  His body remained stubbornly attached to the thin mattress as if he were lying on the clouds themselves, despite the chills of the night.  With a small groan, he rolled himself over to face the open window.  Suddenly the sheet that had provided amply warmth before, was now found severely lacking.  A decision had to be made: he was tired and comfortable but that would not last long once the chill set in.  Best to remedy the situation now, he decided.  That way the rest of the night could pass undisturbed. 

 

Swinging his legs over the bed, he recoiled slightly as his feet hit the floor: it was icy cold to

the touch as if the dead of winter had suddenly set up camp in his room in direct defiance of the surrounding summer night.  Now he wished he had his travelling cloak closer to hand.  He reached down to the end of his bed and felt for the clothes he had left there earlier.  Ah yes, there they were – trousers, over shirt and, down on the floor, his boots.  Slipping all the garments quickly on, he once again stood up, this time padding softly over to the window.

 

However as he reached it and drew the wooden shutters closed, he began to notice that, despite his earlier assumptions, there had been no breeze coming from that window.  The air was dead and still.  Yet still the chill remained, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck in sharp punctuated tugs. 

His breathing a little quicker now, he turned on the spot, his back pressed against the now shuttered window.  Without the moonlight the room was suddenly that much darker and scanning the blackness, he saw nothing.  The chair stood where it always had, by the foot of the bed, the table too where he had left it – everything perfectly undisturbed.

 

Deciding he was being silly, he made his way back into bed.  Still, nothing could prevent the mad dash to be back under the covers as opposed to the dignified walk of an adult.  He didn’t even bother to undress as he threw the blanket around him and snugly tucked in the edges underneath him.  His brothers would doubtless laugh at him, his father might even be ashamed, but Cedric didn’t care.  That night, he had never felt so childish or been so keenly aware of how far away he was from becoming a man. 

He buried his head under the pillow and screwed his eyes shut, willing his thumping heart beat to slow down – the noise was almost deafening.  Through sheer will power the drumming ceased.  As the minutes passed and nothing happened, ever so slowly his tensed muscles began to relax.  Cedric allowed a sliver of air to pass through a gap in the blankets and as he did this, he realised how much his lungs could actually do with some oxygen.  Carefully, the young man extricated himself from under the blanket and once more, surveyed his surroundings. 

 

The air did seem warmer this time but still his nerves remained on edge.  Though he could see nothing in the darkness, there was something else nagging him: he could hear – no, <sense> something near by.  It was close, calling him whispering all around him, rattling the shutters on the windows.  His palms began to sweat and his gaze darted furiously about the room.  He propped himself up on his elbows, backing himself as tightly against the wall behind his head as he could. 

He dared not close his eyes though he dearly wished that he could.  With a knife sharp jolt of certainty, Cedric understood that at that very moment, he was no longer alone.

 

“Hello?” Came the throaty whisper.  A moment later he realised it had come from his own mouth though what had given him the courage to speak, he knew not.  Silenced answered him, jarring his senses more loudly than a thousand screams could have.  His heart stopped.  Was that movement? By the window?  No – his eyes followed the movement, amazingly well given the lack of light.  Something seemed to be radiating its own light source though his brain did not stop to contemplate that at that precise moment.  There it was again!  A sound this time – a rustling moving from the window now and towards the bed.  This time, the blood pounding in Cedric’s ears could not be so easily ignored.  He could no longer speak, no longer move, no longer breathe.  All he could do was wait, paralysed, sweat pouring in rivulets down his neck and back and soaking into the rugged mattress beneath him.  Outside in the night sky, the clouds must have shifted for striking through the gaps in the shutters came a single shaft of bright, white moonlight, cutting an arc across the path to Cedric’s bed.  He did not know how long this illumination would last for, but whoever was coming closer to the bed would have to pass through it if they wished to reach his upper body.  His vision began to swim with fright and the thudding in his ears had now turned to a high pitched ringing. 

 

The shadows lightened on the outskirts of the moonbeam and Cedric could make out the silent rustle and crease of fabric.  His gaze had locked further up however, towards the face.  ‘Another step’, his mind cried out, ‘Just one more step…’

 

The figure stepped forward.

 

The light did its job admirably.  Out of the darkness appeared the figure Cedric had been preparing himself for – the inevitability of fear and attack – the eyes, cold and demonic; the lips, curled in anger and hate: evil in every pore.  So when his intruder’s face was finally illuminated in blinding clarity and Cedric took in the pale gentle face, soft curling hair and alert frightened, but kindly eyes, he let out a soft, strangled cry. 

 

“Nan!” he breathed. 

 

With a tangle of arms and legs, Cedric managed to stumble out of bed.  He scoured the room frantically but it seemed that the darkness had reclaimed her.  Cursing, he fumbled on the wall for the candles but try as he might, he could not locate them. “Nan?” he called. 

There was no answer.  Moving to the window, he tried to throw back the shutters but he found them to be stubbornly sealed shut and unrelenting.  By now however his eyes had adjusted to the pitch blackness and he took in his surroundings more easily. To his surprise and dismay, he saw that she had vanished.  The door to his room rested slightly open and so he made for it in haste.  His mind whirled: what was she doing here?  She must have followed him, all the way from Covington Cross – but why?  The door was heavy and as he passed through, he heard it swing gently shut behind him.

 

The corridor outside of his room was deserted but Cedric raced to the end of it anyway to look out onto the grounds below.  She couldn’t have come this far, this fast, he told himself. ‘If you even saw her’, he reminded himself.  ‘After all, it was dark and your mind was playing tricks on you.  Perhaps you just imagined it out of longing to be back home?’

It was then that he spotted the staircase.  Of course!  The first place he should have gone to, he mentally chastised himself.  He moved surprisingly silently given his present state of agitation and remarkably quickly. Taking the stairs two at a time at a speed that normally earned him lecture or two back home, Cedric reached the bottom and hastily began to search the tavern.  “Nan?” he whispered again.

 

Suddenly, he stopped.  A creaking noise had caught his attention.  Cedric had turned to see where it was coming from but just as he did so, the noise stopped.  He held his breath: a moment passed. 

 

Wait!  There it was again – softly creaking in a steady, slow rhythm.  “Is that you?” he whispered, tentatively suddenly wishing he had taken the time to bring a light after all.  As the noise sounded again this time the youth’s gaze cast upwards.  Somebody was up there, moving around – creaking the old floorboards. 

 

His pulse began to quicken.  He must have missed her.  Was that her up there now, looking for him?  Unconsciously, Cedric ran a hand through his dark tousled hair, now clinging to the back of his neck in sweat.  His eyes darted to the top of the staircase, still shrouded in darkness.  With one steadying hand on the banister he made his way carefully up the stairs.  Gone was the frantic haste of earlier – now, caution ruled his pace. 

As he reached the top, he paused.  His breath caught in his throat.  Someone was coming down the passageway, but he knew in an instant that it wasn’t Nan.  Instinctively, he drew back into the staircase, hugging the shadows and blending into the night.  The figure was that of a man, fully cloaked.  The build and gait was familiar – too familiar.  Perhaps Cedric should have said something, called out?  But he did not.  He simply stood, transfixed – in utter astonishment.

 

He watched as the man stopped outside of his closed door.  Cedric sincerely hoped that his pounding pulse was not audible to the strange visitor to his room or else his hiding place would be quickly given up.  With a swift glance behind him, the man placed one hand on the door handle and with the other, withdrew something from the folds of his cloak.  Cedric leaned in, craning his neck as far as he dared but despite his best efforts, he could not make the object out.  It was small however, sleek and light and for the briefest of instants, it glinted bright silver.  Though Cedric could not make out the clothes, nor the facial features, he knew without a doubt that this man was Charles.  But what in God’s name was he doing, sneaking into Cedric’s room in the dead of night? he wondered.  Charles silently pushed open the door and stepped inside.  As usual, the heavy door swung back behind him but this time it did not close fully.  Through the crack Cedric could make out the scene before him.  Charles stood just inside the doorway, by his bed.  He had obviously expected the shutters to be open for he had brought no other light with him.  He hovered for a moment, obviously unsure of whether to risk disturbing the occupant by opening the shutters.  After a moment’s hesitation he decided to risk it.  Feeling his way round the side and back wall of the room, almost knocking into the table and chair, Charles made his way to the window.  Finding the latch, Cedric gazed intently as the small wooden catch was lifted up and only one window was quietly pushed open.  Immediately moonlight flooded one half of the room casting the bottom half of the bed into light.

 

Charles turned to the bed and stepped forward, into the pale beam.  The hood was drawn up over his face though Cedric could now see his expression – cold and stony, eyes dark and fixed with the slightest creasing of a frown hooding his brow.  And in his hand – if Cedric hadn’t been sure before, there was no trace of doubt in his mind now: in his hand, Charles clutched a small, bejewelled dagger as he slunk closer to the bed like a cat moving in to its prey. 

 

Cedric could not prevent the strangled scream that escaped his lips.  He barely had time to glance at Charles as the man’s head shot up in surprise and his gaze fell upon the young man on the stairs.  After stumbling backwards a few steps, Cedric turned on the spot and flew down the stairs.  He didn’t even recall his feet making contact with the ground.  All he knew was that he had to get out of there – get away from his uncle.

 

Out, through the tavern doors and into the night he ran, never stopping once to look back.  His chest heaved in pain and he was amazed that his legs were even co-operating as they seemed to have been replaced with either iron or lead.  Images of knighthood, of manhood, of bravery and glory were banished from his mind.  It was all he could manage to keep from giving in to his urge to scream and cry.  As it was he could feel tears begin to course down his face.

 

There was movement from behind him – he presumed from Charles as he realised his nephew had left the building.  Cedric paid him no heed and instead continued to run, his feet slapping on the dirt beneath him.  ‘God!’ he thought, frantically.  Where would he go?  Who could he turn to for help?  He realised that he barely even knew where he was – he was utterly friendless and alone.  Ahead of him a noise brought him out of his thoughts though he never slowed down, not for a second.  His first instinct was that it was somehow either Charles or perhaps the man he had seen at their last stop?

 

Whoever it was, was mounted – one…no, maybe more and making for his spot with great speed.  Cedric barely dared to hope.  Could they be allies?  Could they be friends?  If he called out, would that alert them to his aid, or Charles to his location?  His dilemma was short-lived however as the mounted strangers appeared to be making directly for him.  He could see a light from one of them so they must be carrying lanterns.

 

The horses slowed from their canter and came to a trotting halt shortly ahead of him.  He had not heard them speak but Cedric decided that they were most likely a damn site safer than Charles was.  He increased his speed until he came to a sudden halt by their horses, holding onto the reins of the front horse for support until he could catch his breath:

 

“Please!” he rasped, gasping for air all the while, “Got to…help me!  Need…get…away.”  He managed a glance up at the men.  He could see now that there were two of them, though he could not make out the face of the one he was talking to now – this man did not have the lantern.  Just then, the figure on the other horse raised his lantern and spoke to him, his voice laden with surprise of his own:

 

“Cedric?!” 

 

It was only from his grip on the reins, that Cedric prevented himself from collapsing.

 

Noticing his brother’s distress, Richard leapt down of his horse and took Cedric securely round the waist, supporting him as the boy leaned heavily into his older brother.  William too, swung down off his horse, before retrieving the lantern from the saddle and holding it up next to the assembled group.

 

“Cedric?” he asked again, “What on Earth are you doing?  What’s happened?”

 

Cedric didn’t answer.  Instead, nothing could have shocked William and Richard more than what he did next.  Far from shrugging off the support Richard was offering him (as he had though the would-be knight would be desperate to do), Cedric flung his arms about Richard’s waist and clung on for dear life, weeping bitterly as fear, exhaustion and adrenaline finally caught up with him in a torrent of emotion.  Shock clearly registered on each brother’s face as they stared, open-mouthed at their baby brother.  However, Richard regained his composure and instinctively hugged his brother back, leading them over to a place where they could all sit down.

 

William swiftly located a mound of turf and set the lantern down on the ground in front of it before seating himself.  Richard’s decent was a little more awkward given that he still held onto Cedric but it was obvious to all that the young cleric was unwilling to release his hold.

“Now, Cedric,” Richard began, “you must tell us, slowly and clearly what has happened.  Where’s Uncle Charles?”

 

“Charles,” Cedric explained through heaving breaths: “He…he was in my room!”

“In your room?”  William repeated. “When?”

“Tonight!  S…sneaking around – didn’t know I wasn’t there.”

“Where were you?”  Richard wondered.

“Downstairs.”

“Why?”

Cedric hiccuped, “Thought I heard something…” he stammered.

“What was he doing in your room?”  William pressed gently.

At this, Cedric began to panic again. “Had a knife!” he explained, his voice rising.  “He came into my room and he had a knife – he was looking for me!  You can’t let him find me.”

William exchanged a startled and suspicious look with Richard.

 

“Cedric,” Richard began, calmly, “Think about this.  Are you absolutely <sure>?  After all, it was dark and you were already panicked from this noise you thought you heard.”  Even as he spoke, he could feel his brother vehemently shaking his head against his chest.

 

“Cedric? Where are you boy?”

 

All three boys spun around at the sound of the call.  Cedric recoiled visibly.  Despite his doubts, William instinctively found himself moving slightly in front of their youngest sibling.  He didn’t really believe the child – after all, Cedric had been jumpy about Charles practically since they met him – but it just wasn’t like Cedric to be this upset for no reason. Until he knew what that reason was, he wouldn’t dismiss a threat to his family out of hand and he knew that Richard would do the same.  Charles spotted them and ran over.  He appeared flustered.  Concern and annoyance were clearly etched on his face.

 

“There you are!” he exclaimed.  Then he identified William and Richard.  His eyebrows rose in surprise (and perhaps in more than a little alarm).  However he quickly concealed this.  “Richard, William!  What in Heaven’s name are you both doing here?  And at this time of night?”

Richard glanced over Cedric’s head at his brother.  “When we finished our business, we decided to ride up tonight and ride out with you both at first light.  We had discovered that the route back was quicker if one doesn’t have to ride back the way we came in.  I’m not sure why we rode out when we did,” he added thoughtfully, “it just seemed the right thing to do at the time.”

“What’s going on, Uncle?”  William cut in.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Charles insisted.  “Cedric, what on Earth is the matter?”

“Cedric says you were in his room tonight,” Richard explained, quietly and calmly.

To Cedric’s surprise, Charles did not seem alarmed at this.  “Yes, of course I was,” he exclaimed as if the reason why should have been obvious.  Despite himself, Cedric pulled away from his brother and turned, incredulously to face his uncle full on. 

Charles smoothly continued.  “Cedric, I thought I heard noises coming from your room – running and scraping and then I heard someone moving about downstairs!  I was worried for you – I thought perhaps something had happened so I went in to check on you.  You can imagine my alarm when I found your bed empty and then when you ran without a word!  I declare you have given me the fright of my life, Boy!”

“And the knife?”  William asked, carefully.  Charles never missed a beat though he did appear surprised at the mention.  “As I said, I worried the lad was in trouble.  You are all in my care this journey – how could I ever have faced your father again if one of you were to be hurt?  I only wish I had had my sword to hand but the knife was the first thing I found.”

 

William and Richard seemed to be considering the explanation closely.  It did seem plausible and, though both would admit that their uncle could be both strict and strange at times, neither one wanted to believe him capable of murder – especially not of their little brother.  It was far more comforting to believe that the danger to Cedric had not been real but had been merely a part of his over-active imagination.

 

“What do you think, Cedric?” Richard asked, quietly.  “Do you think it could have happened that way?”  Cedric ignored his brother for the moment and instead directed his words at Charles.  “If you awoke in the middle of the night,” he asked quietly, “then why are you fully clothed?”  Richard and William both bore curious expressions.

“Why are <you>?”  Charles returned, lightly.

Cedric appeared uncomfortable.  “I was cold,” he explained, “it was suddenly very cold.”

“Well there you are then,” Charles continued, “just as it was with me.”

 

“What do you think?”  Richard pressed again.  Cedric had heard all the words but his heart could not believe them.  He hated Charles Grey and more than anything else he wanted to be back home.  Despite all that he had seen and heard it appeared that he still had nothing solid to accuse his uncle of.  He could scarcely believe it.  But his brothers were here now, weren’t they?  That meant that he was safe.  And they would be going home – back to Father, back to his protection.  Suddenly he was very tired, mentally and physically.  Drained and exhausted would have been more apt a description.  Though the anger remained, fatigue washed over and controlled his body and mind.  He just wanted all of this to be over – the journey, the threats, the argument. 

 

“I suppose so,” he agreed finally in a weak, weary voice.  Charles nodded his approval but William and Richard barely noticed.  Their attention was fixed on the care of their brother. 

 

“Then let us return to our beds…” Charles began to say but he never got a chance to finish.

“No!” Cedric cut in, the panic beginning to return to his voice.  “I want to go home now!”

“Now?” Charles repeated.  “It is still the middle of the night.”

“He’s right, Cedric,” William pointed out, “in only a few hours it will be dawn.”

“No!” he cried, “I want to leave now! I don’t want to go back in there. Please,” he cried addressing his two brothers, “please can we leave now! It is almost dawn – it’ll be light soon.  I can’t go back in there, I can’t!”  Richard shared a concerned glance with William.  That talk that the three of them had shared two nights ago had not entirely fallen on deaf ears.  The seeds of doubt had taken enough roots in their minds to justify caution now. In any event, despite the innocent explanation of the night’s events it still did not alter the fact that Cedric had genuinely believed his life to be in danger.  It must have been a harrowing experience for him, regardless of the outcome.  Both brothers silently agreed that it would be kinder to appease their brother on this point.

 

“I can see Cedric’s point, Uncle”, Richard began.  “I think it would be best if we rode out tonight.”  Charles did not appear happy at the suggestion.

 

“This is foolishness!” he exclaimed, angrily. “It is too dangerous, not to mention pointless to ride at night! I say we shall all stay.”

 

Richard stood up, drawing Cedric up with him and lightly placing a protective arm around his shoulders.  “Cedric has had a shock tonight, Uncle.  William and I are going to take him back now – respectfully,” he added though his posture and manner suggested otherwise.  Charles regarded all three of them carefully, his jaw squared and hard.  Finally he relented.

 

“As you wish, boy.”  Richard nodded almost imperceptibly then glanced at William.

“William, why don’t you go and get Cedric’s bag?  I’ll stay here with him – keep him company.  We wouldn’t want him to run off again now, would we?”

 

Charles smiled tightly as William moved off into the inn.  “I’ll show you to his room and collect my own bags,” Charles called after him before following William inside. 

 

“Thank-you,” Cedric said quietly, once Charles was out of earshot.  Richard’s only response was to lightly hug the boy to him quickly before releasing him. Then they turned wordlessly to the task of unsaddling the two horses and loading the boys travelling bags into the coach.

 

Continue to Part 5