Relative Strangers: Part 3
Disclaimer: Please see part one.
I know this is only a short instalment, but the rest will be on its way soon, I promise.
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 infront 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 Gray 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 clamboured 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 abstenance."
"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 forgetable 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 hall-way 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 hall-way 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.
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 bar-keep 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 stair-case. 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 haggered 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.
Disclaimer: Please see part one.
I know this is only a short instalment, but the rest will be on its way soon, I promise.
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 infront 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 Gray 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 clamboured 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 abstenance."
"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 forgetable 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 hall-way 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 hall-way 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.
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 bar-keep 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 stair-case. 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 haggered 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.