Title: Relative Strangers, Part 2
Author: Polly
Disclaimer: Please see part one.
He had begun taking deep breaths the moment the stale air of the cells
had assaulted his
senses. Quickly realising that
this was not an appropriate method to calm himself with considering the source
of agitation, he changed to short, shallow breaths and instead considered just
closing his eyes against the semi-darkness. Again, not a practical solution
unless he wanted to feel his way along walls where anything could be growing or
crawling, (an irrational fear as the dungeons at Covington Cross were
surprisingly well kept up). Finally, he
just settled on not thinking of what could be lurking down here, or more to the
point, trying to ignore whatever it was that chilled him to the bone whenever
he was forced to come down here.
All the cells were empty (as they usually were) and he could see the
pile of old armoury against the end wall, not far in the distance. But it was something about the end cell
which had always frightened him the most: of all the places for the cursed
swords to be! He stood, planted to the
ground, his legs not obeying the rather feeble command his head was giving them
to move forwards. “This is ridiculous”, he said aloud, hoping that the sound of
his own voice would comfort him. It
didn’t - it only made him alarmingly aware of how alone and quiet it was down
there. Maybe his uncle had been right
the first time, maybe he should just stick to his books if he was that much of
a coward? A sudden noise behind him
made him spin blindly in the near darkness.
“Who’s there?!” he cried out, a small part of his mind telling him that
it would most likely only be a rat. It
was no rat. Or at least he wouldn’t
define it as such on this particular occasion.
“Relax, Cedric - it’s only me.”
Richard assured him, calmingly.
Cedric let out a great sigh of relief.
“Thank God - you have no idea what I’ve been imagining down here. What are you doing here?” “What do you think? It was unfair of uncle to get you to come down
here in the first place. I’m just
keeping you company.”
“It wasn’t unfair to try to make me stop acting like a pathetic child!”
Cedric complained, bitterly. “Well, I
say it was. Everyone has things they don’t like. Except him, apparently.
Well I’d like to see him tested on an ultimate fear and see how well he
fared in the face of adversity.” Cedric had never seen his brother quite so
rallied to any cause of his, but he wasn’t about to reject him. Instead he just contented himself with the
company and let the issue with their uncle drop.
“I see the swords over there”, Richard pointed out, indicating the pile
by the wall.
“Yes.” Cedric agreed as they carefully made their way towards
them. They looked a little worse for
wear and very dulled, but they seemed in generally good condition. Even some of the handles almost looked like
the original metals they were made with, not a match for the greenish-grey of
the stone wall they leant against. He
examined them as quickly as he could, before retracting one close to the
surface of the heap and moving away hastily.
“This will do”, he exclaimed with as much conviction as he could
muster. Richard cast an appraising eye
over it. “Are you sure this will hold
together?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes!” Cedric returned, defensively, eager to leave that place. Frankly he didn’t care if the blade was
attached to the handle by twine as long as they could examine it in the warm
light of the sun. This place was
oppressing to him to say the least.
Richard sighed in understanding.
“Alright, Cedric - let’s go back.
This will have to do. What use
these will ever be if there is a riot down here, I’ll never know.” “At least they’d be harmless if the
prisoners ever got hold of them”, Cedric joked, nervously. “I suppose so. Cedric, I’ve never understood what you don't like about this
place. It’s really not that bad.”
“It’s dank, dark, horrible and full of decay!” Cedric protested. Richard considered his remarks and had to
concede to at least a couple of his points.
“True, I suppose, but they aren’t all in such bad condition. See,” he said, pointing to a lighter patch
in the wall of the end cell, “this one’s even been repaired. Now how many dungeons have that homely
care?”
Cedric looked at him, almost incredulously. “It’s only so the prisoners trapped in there can’t escape.” “Again, you may have a point. But don’t forget that he probably was
chained to the wall in any event, so a gaping hole in the side would only have
been a bitter irony.” He draped a
casual arm around his little brother’s shoulders as he turned them round and
led them back up to the uneven stone steps.
“Oh, thank-you, Richard!” Cedric shot back, irritatedly.
“In fact”, Richard continued, clearly enjoying this new turn in the
conversation, “I believe that some of them would have had their feet removed
when they first came in.” “Remind me
again why you came down here?” Cedric demanded as Richard began chuckling. One can only have so much sweetness, he
considered mildly.
The rest of practice had been blissfully uneventful. However, by the time they had finished,
Cedric was thoroughly exhausted - battling personal demons and his uncle all on
the same day, could take a lot out of him.
It was with great relief, therefore when he finally sat down to supper
that evening - a fine spread of mutton and assorted dishes which were crowed
into the middle of the table and causing every occupant’s mouth to water. Thomas, however would not say Grace and
allow them to start. Richard and
William tried regardless and were rewarded with a sharp verbal reprimand. They wisely did not try again. The reason for this most irritating delay it
seemed, was the absence of Charles whom Thomas would not begin without. Several long moments had passed since they
had been seated and several more fingers had surreptitiously inched their way
towards the food, when Thomas decided to take action, rather than sit and
wait. “Perhaps he has forgotten the
time? Cedric, you were last with him -
did he give any indication where he was going?”
“After Cedric’s sword-practice?” William cut in, “probably drowning his
sorrows in despair.”
“That’s not funny, William”, Richard said quietly, surprising his
brother who was usually the one to tell Richard to back off from teasing the
baby of the family. Thomas paid him no
heed, instead continuing to look at Cedric for an answer. “Uh, he didn’t really mention anything
specifically. Perhaps he is just
resting?” Thomas considered this for a
moment. “Maybe. See if you can fetch him, Cedric - and hurry
or this food will quickly go cold.” The
young man sighed wearily but rose to his feet (aching though they were) and
went in search of his uncle, all the while wondering why William, who had been
wearing out nothing more strenuous than his fingers that day, could not have
been sent in his place.
Carefully, he climbed the winding steps up to the turret rooms where
his uncle was temporarily lodged. He
had never really frequented this part of the castle, but Charles had often
played in this part as a boy and so Thomas had decided that he may like to stay
there for his duration at Covington Cross.
Charles seemed to like his solitude at times and this suited him
perfectly, as even now few people rarely came this way. Now that he thought of it, he was fairly
happy about the situation himself, given that he would rather avoid bumping
into his uncle for the time being. The
lesson that day had ended well, but Cedric could not help but feel that there
were times when his uncle did not seem quite himself, and to be honest, he was
a little afraid of that man. As he
reached the top of the flight of steps, it opened out onto a fairly small
circular landing with two oak doors in front of him. Torches were mounted on the walls above his head, imperative for
negotiating those stairs at night lest one should trip and break their necks,
but standing idle and unlit since the warm summer sun rendered them temporarily
useless. The air held a stillness up
there that he wasn’t used to in the usually hectic but warm rooms of the main
castle. It unnerved him, he decided,
almost as much as the dungeons had and he hastily set about ascertaining
whether his uncle was in his room or not.
As he took a step forward however, the slit window caught his eye. He moved towards it, leaning as far over as
he could on the sloping sill to survey the grounds beneath him. He was at a side of the castle, rarely
visited and the grounds the window looked out over were also rarely trodden. That is why he was surprised to see a
solitary figure moving quickly and quietly across the grounds and towards the
forest’s edge. His pace and movements
seemed agitated and his back was towards him, a hood obscuring his face,
regardless. That is if it was even a
man - Cedric couldn’t be sure what the gender was but he didn’t recognise the
height or build as anyone from Covington Cross - servant or otherwise. The
figure stole into the depths of the forest - parts so dense with overhanging
trees, that the sun barely shone through and the rain, which sometimes poured
at night, left the grounds almost marshy.
He wondered what this stranger could have been doing and whether
perhaps he should tell anyone of what he had seen. The rumble of his stomach told him otherwise and reminded him
that there were four other people waiting downstairs who were more than likely
becoming increasingly fed up. A hungry
Richard was not a happy Richard, he mused.
He strode to the door and rapped on it firmly. No reply was forthcoming so he tried again and called out this time,
for good measure. “Uncle? Are you in
there? Father has sent me to fetch you
for supper.” He knew Charles usually
always kept his door bolted, but he tentatively tried it anyway. He was right, it didn’t budge. He felt very frustrated at that moment. Turning around, he lent against the door and
considered where to try next. As his
thoughts began to drift to stables and fields, his gaze came to rest on the
smaller oak door opposite. As far as he
knew, it led only up to some storage rooms that were sometimes utilised for
barrels of wine. Not for a very long
time, though - not since Richard had locked William up there as children and
then not been able to unlock the door.
It had been over a day before he had eventually escaped (half of the
time spent in there was due to neither boy wanting to confess what they’d done
to their father and trying desperately to solve the situation themselves). Since then, the room, like much of the
turret, had become disused but what Cedric noticed now, was that the dust on
the iron ringed handle had been dislodged and the floor beneath the door held
the signs of recent use. Curiously, he
moved towards it, taking the rusty iron handle in both hands. Even as he turned the handle and leaned his
weight backwards, he didn’t expect any result and almost yelped in surprise
when the door slowly but surely creaked open.
Forgetting his uncle for the moment, forgetting even his irate family
impatiently waiting downstairs, Cedric ever so cautiously made his way up this
second flight of steps, one by one.
This staircase was less than half the width of the first one (if such a
thing were possible) and at one point, he almost feared that he would get stuck
between both walls. As it was, he could
not see how barrels of wine were <ever> transported up here. There were no windows up here, and therefore
the darkness was almost pure pitch and the air was heavy and musty. He felt his way in the darkness, wishing he
could see just a little way in front of him, all the while leaning heavily on
the left hand wall and feeling for any kind of guiding rope or rail on either
side. From what he could feel of the
occasional small iron ring along the walls, there undoubtedly was once a rope
threaded along and all the way up, but that was either wasted away, or had been
purposefully removed - perhaps by his father, though he couldn’t see why. One thing he was sure of, though, whoever
was using this room must know these stairs by heart, for some were treacherously
uneven and he swore to himself this would be the only journey up here he would
make.
The occupants of the dining hall shuffled restlessly on their
seats. The bickering was becoming
almost violent and Thomas had already moved Eleanor to the other side of
Richard in an attempt to break the fight between her and William. It had worked too, and now Richard had
successfully taken his brother’s place in the argument. “How long does it take?!” William said, suddenly
miserably kicking the table leg, which caused another glare from Thomas. “Patience all of you”, Thomas replied,
tightly, though his own was wearing thin, “he has probably had to venture out
of doors.” “Knowing Cedric he’s gotten
lost”, William muttered as they resumed kicking the table and drumming their
fingers.
The steps seemed to go on
forever, though Cedric surmised that that could just be his imagination but
either way he was soon becoming sick of his ascent. He didn’t even know Covington Cross went up this high and without
a window he couldn’t even gauge how high he was. His mind was just turning to heading back when without warning,
his raised foot did not come down on a higher level but came to rest on the
same level as its companion, stubbing itself rudely against a door in the
process. Cedric was suddenly filled
with dismay: another door! He hadn’t
even considered that and if that one was locked, then he had climbed all that
way (however far that may be) for nothing!
If it was unlocked, did the door open outwards or in? He didn’t feel balanced enough to lean any
of his weight backwards in case he should fall down. Down: that notion was
suddenly very depressing, either climbing or falling. Deciding that he would not come all that way for a wasted
journey, he twisted the ring handle and (hoping it was the correct way) pushed
as hard as he dared. At first nothing
happened - the door remained stubbornly in place, almost taunting him. However Cedric was beginning to learn that
giving up easily did not always bring the most fruitful rewards. He made sure his feet were as firmly planted
on the narrow top step as they could be, then braced his shoulder against the
door and with as much strength as he could muster, he leant his weight
(insignificant as it may have been) into the frame. With a heave and a fair amount of protesting, the door finally
pushed open to the utter astonishment and great relief, of Cedric. As it did so, however and he peered into the
gloom, his eyes fighting to adjust to the light, it occurred to him that the
one thing he had failed to consider on his laborious climb, was what was
awaiting him inside.
As caution of the unknown overcame him, his heart began to race ever so
slightly. He waited to hear whether
anyone was inside, listening for any sound that would have given the occupant
away: breathing, rustling, footsteps.
As his vision adjusted and his ears gave him no reason to think
differently, he came to the conclusion that he was indeed alone up there. Not wanting to stand so precariously at the
top of the steps, he carefully ventured into the turret room. Though cobwebs hung from the ceiling and
corners like macabre festoons, and a layer of thick dust coated the floor, he
could tell that the room had been occupied and recently. The lock appeared
newly fitted as if the occupier cared a great deal about keeping this room
sealed. He wondered what had happened
that day that had caused this person to leave so hastily that they forgot to
lock both doors.
The room itself was incredibly small and cramped. A slight window in the far wall let in a
surprisingly small amount of sunshine.
It was only when Cedric took a good look at the outside that it dawned
on him how late it had become and how long he had been away from the table. He considered that he wouldn’t be at all
amazed if he came downstairs to a bloodbath at the table, Greys scattered
everywhere. However, he simply could
not obey his conscience and leave just yet - this was his reward for his
inquisitiveness and he was going to enjoy it as much as he could. Despite his curiosity though, he discovered
that there wasn’t a great deal to see.
It appeared to be a storage room of rather odd and miscellaneous
items.
A large wooden chest with dulled bronze hinges and locks stood alone in
the far left-hand corner of the room.
It looked almost impenetrable and he didn’t think it was even worth
trying that. Small, low tables ran
along both walls on either side of the room, bare and uncovered except for the
assorted boxes and leather and cloth purses which contained he knew not what,
that were scattered in an attempt at order over their surfaces. He could just about make out items such as
jewellery poking out from some of them.
Paintings and tapestries, covered and rolled up, stood against the right
hand wall and lay at the base of the left hand one. If Cedric was any judge, they looked expensive and he wondered
why they would be shut away up here.
As he continued to walk about the room exploring, he came across what
looked like women’s articles of clothing though they appeared older than the
current fashion seemed to be, at least as far as he had noticed and he admitted
that he never really gave the matter much thought - it was usually what was
<in> the dress that caught his attention. As he finished his circle of the small room, he was disappointed
that nothing had particularly grabbed his interest. He walked slowly up the left-hand wall, running his fingers
lightly over the boxes on the tables.
As he got to the end box however, he stopped and picked up what he saw
lying there. Rolls of parchment had
been protruding through the lid of a small chest and the words almost leapt out
at him from the page, though at first he couldn’t think why. Now that he had the parchment in hand and
was holding it as close to whatever light there was, as possible, he could see
that while he didn’t recognise it, the writing style was familiar. The words
too, now struck a sudden cord of recognition.
They were the very same quotes which he had thought of writing for Lily,
what seemed like ages ago. Nan had certainly
shown him where to find the most passionate and sincere love poetry that he had
ever read.
The letters were tied in a bundle and hastily, he began to ease the
knot of the binding twine open. Suddenly and
without warning, he yelped in surprise as sharp hands snatched the
letters away from him. Spinning around
he saw Charles standing in front of him, arms folded and glowering at him. “What do you think you are doing in here?”
he asked, slowly and dangerously.
Cedric’s heart was still racing but he gulped and answered, “I..I was
sent to look for you. Supper...supper’s
ready”, he trailed off, hopelessly. “Is that so?” Charles remarked,
coldly.
“What is all this?” Cedric asked, nervously.
“Storage space.” Charles answered, shortly. “Surely you can’t expect a man to fit all of his belongings in
that tiny room downstairs?” Cedric
quickly shook his head in agreement. He
tried desperately to change the topic. “Uh, your feet are muddy, Uncle”, he
pointed out, noticing the thick layer of mud which coated his soles. “I’m sure father has a pair that you could
borrow for supper.” “What does it concern you about my feet?” Charles asked
sharply. “No reason”, Cedric amended, hastily.
“I just saw someone..” he trailed off, feeling foolish and squirmed under
the sharp look that Charles gave him.
“Saw <what>?” he demanded, quickly. Cedric began to feel quite afraid though he told himself it was
irrationally so. This was his own
family after all. Still, he could not
help but feel that Charles’ reaction to his invasion of privacy was a little
too heart-felt. Carefully, Charles
replaced the letters in the chest.
“This is my property”, he said, “I would appreciate it if you stayed out
of it.”
“Of course! I only looked at it because I recognised it
- well not the letter, but the poetry.”
“If we do not hurry I suppose, supper will be all but ruined! I will take your fine suggestion and borrow
a pair of your father’s boots for dinner.
What would we do without you here, eh Cedric?”
***
Thomas leant back in his chair in the Great Hall and pushed the
haphazard pile of papers that scattered his desk, away from him. He had been working at the accounts all
morning and was no nearer to balancing the finances then he was when he had
begun. Not that they were in any
financial difficulties, but things could be a little smoother. He glanced up as the main door opened and
William strode through. “Ah, good
morning, William. Tell me, how goes the wool contract with the Blackwoods? Do they appear to favour us yet?”
“Not yet, but I have good hopes.
It will be a hard sale but not one that I am not capable of
closing.” “Splendid. We could do with
the extra insurance. Do we have
anything which he is particularly interested in?” William considered for a moment.
“He liked Eleanor”, he said finally.
“I don’t know why,” he added.
“Pig!” she called from the other end of the room.
“Wench!” he shot back, just as calmly, not even batting an eyelid.
“William!” Sir Thomas remonstrated.
“Don’t call your sister a wench!”
“She called me a pig,” he protested.
“Well, maybe but that, that is not the issue,” he insisted.
“Yes -toad!”
“Hussy!”
“William!!”
“Yes, William!”
“Eleanor!”
“Father!”
“Ah - the sweet harmony of discord!
Good morning family.” Richard sauntered merrily into the room from the
courtyard. They all stopped the flying
accusations and turned to see the owner of the voice. “Ah, Richard, I’m glad you’re here”, Sir Thomas started,
forgetting the earlier conversation.
“Have you seen your brother today?”
He interrupted sharply as he saw Richard’s mouth open for the obvious
reply, “the other one!” Richard shut
his mouth again and thought for a moment, “Yes, he’s hiding from the Friar.”
“Splendid! Well, not splendid but it will do for the moment. We don’t by any chance know where, do
we?” Richard thought again. “In the stables, I believe.”
“Good, good. Would you be so
kind as to fetch him? That is if you
have nothing more pressing to take care of?”
“Yes, brother,” William cut in, “such as helping me with the Blackwood
sale. Fortunately for you though, I
could run this business single-handedly.”
“Yes, that’s enough William.” Thomas put in before another argument
began, “Richard, please tell him to come to the main hall immediately.” “Yes, Father.” Richard agreed before
sauntering back out again.
If he hadn’t already known that Cedric was hiding in the stables, the
sound of giggling young girls, was always a sure give-away. Just follow the trail, he thought to
himself. He stood outside the stable
entranceway and found that he just couldn’t help himself. “It’s all right,
Friar! He’s over here!” he called to no one in particular, “Oh - you want to go
in and fetch him? Well if you insist.”
That did the trick. With a squeal (presumably from the girl) and a deal
of rustling, one dishevelled young maiden came scrambling out of the hay,
barely even glancing at Richard as she brushed past him in her haste to
escape. Richard quickly ran around to
the back entrance to the stable and was promptly rewarded by a panicked Cedric
running straight into him as he stood there, arms folded across his chest,
grinning from ear to ear. With a startled
cry, Cedric had stopped short at the collision, still looking nervously about
in search of his supposed pursuer.
Richard’s grin told him otherwise.
“That’s not funny!” he protested, vehemently scowling his darkest
scowl. “I was really getting along with
Melinda!”
“I was merely saving your soul, Cedric. You can thank me later.
Right now, Father wants you to come to the main hall immediately.” “What
for?” he asked, forgetting to remain angry with him. “Don’t know. You’ll have to ask him, won’t you? And come up with another excuse” he added as
he turned to leave. Cedric sighed: this
wasn’t going to be the best of days, he could tell. He was also uncannily
correct.
He pushed open the main door tentatively and walked inside. Thomas was there, sitting at the table,
still shuffling papers in an agitated manner. He looked pleased to see him when
he walked in, however, if perhaps a little distracted. “Cedric - good, I’m glad you are here. I have some news for you.” “Yes, Father?” Cedric asked hopefully, glad
it was not a lecture and his curiosity piqued.
Thomas continued, “Do you remember some weeks ago, your uncle had some
news that he might need to travel to Chester to settle some old business
affairs?” He waited for Cedric to indicate the affirmative, which he did with a
slight nod. “Well he has since heard that he will indeed have to visit for a
few days and process some old debts owed and so forth, in the courts. He proposed that the visit would be a very
beneficial and educational one for you, too and I have agreed. Therefore you leave for Chester this very
day.” Cedric couldn’t help but grin at
the news. He was finally going to get
out of Covington Cross to somewhere farther than the local village! And it appeared his uncle must value him
greater than he thought, if he wanted Cedric around on matters of
politics. “When do I leave?” he asked
excitedly. “Around noon”, his father
replied, pleased at seeing his youngest so happy. “Be sure to be packed in
time”, he reminded him, just in time too, as Cedric had practically spun on his
heel and raced out of the room.
Cedric couldn’t contain his excitement as he raced in search of the
Friar to inform him of his legitimate excuse for abandoning his lessons yet
again. He found him at prayer in the
chapel and had the good grace to wait respectively by the entrance way until
presently, the Friar crossed himself, rose and made for the exit, bowing to the
altar as he passed it. The Friar, who
had missed nothing, had heard Cedric enter and without even looking round, had
known that it was him. Now he
approached the young man patiently but with a sense of wariness. He was rarely sought after by Cedric for
anything, after all. “Friar! Wonderful
news”, he proclaimed happily. “Really?”
“I am to go to Chester with my uncle.
He has great use of me in political affairs. He says I’m his right-hand man.”
The Friar could not bring himself to dampen his young pupil’s mood in
any way, though it was apparent that yet more of his studies would be
missed. He sighed, but more in
exasperation than unkindly. “I am glad
for you, Cedric. I just worry that at
this rate, we will never progress past Book 4 of the Aenied. If you seem to remember, we have been
laboriously working on this for the better part of a year.” Cedric smiled dismissively, giving the Friar
a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t
worry, Friar, I’ve already figured out what happens. He marries Dido, they raise a family, and he lives with her as
King to her Queen for the rest of the book”, he explained, happily. The Friar shook his head in mild
dismay. “Cedric, do not assume
everything in life is as black and white as you would like it to be. If we delve a little deeper into things we
discover that they are not nearly as we first imagined them.” He could see he was losing this particular
point on Cedric at the moment and so he gave in to the boy’s enthusiasm. “Very well, Cedric. Thank you for venturing to tell me of your
pending absence. Have a safe
journey.” “I will, Friar, and don’t
worry - ‘The Aenied’ will wait,” he grinned as he headed out of the
chapel. “It will have to”, the Friar
remarked to the silence of the exiting boy, “for youth certainly waits for no
man.”
After regaling William and Richard with tales of his approaching
expedition, he hurried upstairs to pack, leaving his two brothers somewhat
envious but gallantly trying to conceal it.
He threw a few items of clothing randomly into a travelling overnight
bag. He wasn’t sure if he would be required
to dress formally but if they were going into courts then there was a chance he
would have to. He was a little dismayed
at this. He was sure that he had the
appropriate clothing somewhere, but he had no idea what it may be. He was so rarely involved in business like
this, that his father had never really bothered trying to instruct him
before. He thought back to those times
when he had watched his older brothers leave for important business but he had
never paid their attire close attention.
He could always ask his father or brothers, he supposed, but a stubborn
part of him was determined to do this on his own - prove that he was as mature
as his uncle obviously thought him. He
began to wonder if Lady Elizabeth was about the castle that day. She was frequently amongst the heights of
fashion and she was very well informed on up to date matters of etiquette. He set off from his room, wandering around
in a half-hearted attempt to find her.
As he left the immediate grounds of the castle and found himself
strolling the more distant areas of the estate, he was interrupted from his
thoughts, by the feeling of a presence near him, as if he were being watched
intently. Trees and undergrowth lined
one side of his path and on the other, flowed a bubbling spring, running
alongside another stretch of forest. He
stopped short and waited for a moment, listening intently. Sure enough, the noise stopped with
him. He waited with baited breath for
any form of wildlife to appear scuttling from the shrubbery. None were forthcoming and his heart began to
announce its presence a little more noticeably in his chest. He continued walking a few paces more and
the noise began again - a rustling and murmuring, or it could have been
breathing - controlled and measured, purposeful as though from a creature who
was there for a determined reason. He
had wandered far from the grounds and at this juncture, he was most certainly
alone. No one was around to hear him
call, even if he could manage to find his voice. With a last ditch effort to persuade himself that everything was
in his imagination, he continued on his way, a little more hastily than he had
begun his amble. If anything, the noise
became worse, more urgent as whatever was there, picked up its pace and its
desperation. Cedric could positively
feel this thing’s eyes boring into him and at the definite sound of a branch
snapping in the undergrowth to the side of him, he finally called out, with
more bravado than he was feeling, “Who’s there?” There was no answer as everything suddenly became eerily still
and quiet - even the birds. “If that’s
either of you Richard or William, then you’re not scaring me at all. In fact
this is very old and unoriginal of you.”
He sincerely hoped he was just talking to himself, and had actually
managed to convince himself that he must be going mad when he heard the
unmistakable sound of a footstep behind him.
Before he could react, he felt a hand hover above his shoulder and at
that point, he found his senses again.
With a sharp intake of breath, he spun around, his heart in his throat,
ready to defend himself as best he could.
He stopped short at the sight before him. There stood Nan, quite alone and defenceless, regarding him with
a very worried expression.
“Cedric. What’s wrong?” she
asked, earnestly. Cedric let out the
breath he’d been holding, but he didn’t relax and instead began scouring the
bushes. “Be careful, Nan”, he warned, moving in front of her slightly in an
effort to protect her from he knew not what.
“You didn’t see any one in the bushes over there, did you?” he
continued. She looked at him in alarm.
“No, no one. Are you sure you did not simply hear my approach? I noticed you from across the river and
crossed over at the nearest bridge.”
Cedric shook his head, though somewhat uncertainly, “No, I was sure it
was someone else. Not an animal,
either. That’s what Richard or William
would have said, but I <do> know the difference between a man and an
animal and this was definitely a man.”
“Who do you think it could have been?” she asked him, sincerely, concern
shining through her bright eyes. “I
don’t know”, he admitted. Then he
noticed her agitated manner and was suddenly dismayed that he had upset
her. It had been over a month since he
had last seen her - not since that day in the orchards, and he did not want to
drive her away again. “I could be
wrong, of course. I have been known to be so”, he joked, weakly. She smiled slightly at him, clearly not
happy with letting the matter drop.
“Honestly”, he assured her, “if it was any one, then it was one of my
brothers. I’ll find out when I get back
to the castle. Oh yes!” he exclaimed in sudden memory, “I almost forgot what I
had wanted to tell you. Well, ask you
really, I just wasn’t sure if I would find you today.” Nan looked at him patiently, amused by his
enthusiasm. “I am finally to leave
Covington Cross on official business! My uncle has asked me to accompany him to
the shire courts to settle his old debts.”
Her expression altered immediately, her pallor growing even paler than
usual and her eyes about two shades darker.
The transformation was positively alarming and her fear was almost
infectious. For a moment, Cedric was
afraid that she was dreadfully overcome with illness. “Nan! What’s the matter?!
Please tell me - are you ill? Should I
take you back to the castle? We can
send for a physician?” She shook her
head quickly and wordlessly, holding one hand up to stay off his concerned
advances. “Nothing is wrong with me,
Cedric”, she answered, almost tonelessly.
However he could not relax at this for her eyes still bore into him with
an intenseness he hadn’t known she was capable of and the fear still remained
embedded in that gaze. “You said you
were leaving the grounds of Covington Cross?” she asked, sharply. He seemed a little confused at her line of
questioning but decided to go along with her until he knew if she really needed
help or not. “Yes”, he answered. “We’re going to Chester.”
“Who exactly?” she demanded, causing Cedric to squirm, rather
uncomfortably under the pressure of her interrogation. “Just my Uncle Charles and I. He needs me there - thinks it will be good
for my education. Father agrees.”
“Why not your brothers?” Cedric
tried hard not to show his disappointment.
Even Nan, of all people, doubted that he should be important or apt
enough to concern himself with anything other than his schoolwork. He had been sure she would have been
thrilled for him after all the years he had been pouring his heart out to
her. He became aware that she was still
waiting for an answer and so, begrudgingly, gave her one. “I assumed that he
did not need them there,” he said, quietly, “I assumed that he only wanted
me. You think I was wrong.” It was a statement, not a question: he was
feeling too crushed to question anything at that moment. Nan seemed too distracted to notice. “No, I think you are right, but for all the
wrong reasons,” she muttered causing Cedric to show a little curiosity instead
of despondency. Before he could question
her she continued quickly, “You must not leave the castle grounds, Cedric - promise me that you will stay here.” His confusion was openly obvious now, “I
don’t understand, Nan. What are you
worried about? I am only going with my
uncle.”
“And what do you know of him?!” she demanded, vehemently. He was taken aback for a moment. “Enough”, he replied, a little
defensively. “He is my father’s brother
and a good man.” “You know that do
you?” She was angry now and nothing like the woman he once knew. “I have seen enough to know that, yes!”
Cedric returned, adamantly.
“You know <nothing>, Cedric”, she insisted and inwardly he
recoiled as if he had been slapped. “A
man appears from your past and you ask him no questions - even about the parts
of his past that you know about!”
Cedric felt truly crushed, but he summoned the will to continue with
Nan’s tirade. “Father tells me it is
impolite to ask so many questions”, he replied defensively. Nan scoffed openly at this. “Impolite! Foolish more like it. You did not think there were some questions
which needed to be asked?” Despite his
anger and growing despair, Cedric could not help but be compelled to hear what
she had to say. “What questions?” he
asked, carefully. Seeing that she had
his interest, she continued, earnestly. “Everything. What of Mary?”
“Mary?” he repeated, uncertain of how Nan even knew these things.
“Did anyone <ever> question?” she asked, almost begged, her eyes
imploring him but for what, he couldn’t tell.
“I don’t understand where this is coming from, Nan”, he said, honestly. She sighed in frustration, though she had
regained control of her temper. “I expected more, Cedric but he’s right - you
<do> only see in black and white!”
He opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him with a gentle hand
gesture. “Sometimes we must delve
deeper into things, Cedric. But what ever you do, I beg you not to leave this
place. You are safe here, under your
father’s protection.” “Safe from
<what>?” he questioned, alarm and
curiosity beginning to set in side by side.
She regarded him sadly for a moment, brushing a strand of hair away from
his face, “I am not entirely certain.
Perhaps nothing”, she admitted, “but promise me that you will stay aware
and that you will remain within the grounds - whatever you do.” All her anger was
gone now, only her original fear and desperation remained and despite her words
causing him so much pain, previously, Cedric could feel nothing but sympathy
for her now. He almost surprised
himself when he assented to her request, nodding silently. She appeared satisfied with this, but remained
uncertain about something. Suddenly a
cry was heard in the distance: someone was headed this way. Nan looked around her, quickly. “It’s all
right, Nan,” Cedric assured her, “I think it’s only one of the servants.” Still, she would not relax. “I must go now, Cedric,” she said as she
hastily gathered her skirts above her ankles and made for the forest edge. She paused and turned before she entered,
“Please forgive me for anything I have said that has hurt you today. It was
never my intention, but do remember our discussion.” And with that last
entreaty, she disappeared again. Cedric
stood there for a few moments, trying to take in all that had happened. Then he remembered his earlier feeling of
unease in that place and decided to make haste back towards the main castle
grounds.
When he eventually arrived back, his conversation with Nan was already
beginning to fade from his thoughts - at least the urgency was wearing
down. Besides, the closer he got to the
castle, the more his thoughts turned to his trip to court. Granted it wasn’t the king’s court - not
yet, anyway but he would work his way up to that. As he arrived at the courtyard, he saw a newly arrived carriage waiting
by the entrance to the castle, the magnificent white horses, pulling at their
restraints and stamping their feet impatiently at their desire to be on their
way. At that moment, Cedric knew
exactly how they felt and could only assume that this grand carriage was meant
for his uncle and himself.
***
Though his excitement had been duly dampened somewhat, Cedric could
nonetheless, not remain still for much of the day. His original purpose of discovering the latest court fashions,
had come to nothing, and so he contented himself with packing what he thought
best: he could always double check with Charles before he left, he
reasoned. Charles had some sudden
dealings at Covington Cross to finish up with before they departed, and so the
newly scheduled time was for early that evening. As he wandered idly through the stable yard, Cedric found himself
wondering about the slight delay in their departure time. What business did Charles have at the
castle? Though he knew Charles was
frequently coming and going and that he sent many messages by personal
messenger to several unknown men, as far as he was aware, no one knew who these
men were: they certainly never came to the grounds, though they were obviously
important business clients.
At one time, a sealed letter of
Charles’ had fallen from his cloak folds and had remained unnoticed and
unattended by all but Cedric. He had
taken the letter with the intention of giving it to one of his father’s
messengers but when Charles had spied him with it a moment later, he had
snatched it away from him in anger, his face red and his dark eyes, seemingly
darker and forbidding. Cedric had been
startled to say the least, and hastily assured his uncle that he had meant only
to have it delivered, not to pry. Like
receding shadows, the chilling grimness in his expression slowly melted away
and a gracious smile spread across his face as he took the letter from Cedric,
informing him that if he were ever to misplace a letter again, then would
Cedric be so kind as to hand it directly to him.
The afternoon sun was shining brightly and Cedric suddenly found the
heat to be too intense for his liking.
Across the hay-scattered yard was a large log, meant for firewood for
the coming autumn nights and he wandered over to it and sat down, leaning into
the shade of the stable house wall. He
chewed distractedly on a piece of straw as his thoughts once again drifted to
his uncle. Charles’ business dealings
aside, Cedric had been a little surprised when his father announced that his
uncle had pushed the departure time back.
After all, though it was still summer and the days were yet long there
would not be far to travel before they would have to rest for the night. The weather might be amicable but the
brigands certainly weren’t and they would not be far out of Covington Cross
before it would be unsafe to go on any further. Though he was eager to be away himself, he did not see much point
in wasting an evening’s drive - they
would make better time if they waited till morning. Still, Charles had been insistent and if he were honest with
himself, the matter was not great.
He jumped suddenly as a shadow fell across his feet. Startled, he looked up quickly and was
mildly surprised to discover that his initial alarm did not fade immediately
upon recognizing its owner. “Well,
Cedric, I’ve been looking for you”, Charles began, cheerily. “Richard suggested that I might try the
stables though he was decent enough not to tell me why!” He winked at the lad who had quickly blushed
with embarrassment. “I was just, eh,
getting some air”, he explained.
Charles chuckled, “No need to explain, my boy. I was wondering if you were all ready for our journey?” “Well, actually,” Cedric said, “I was
concerned that I hadn’t packed suitable clothes.” “Clothes, eh?” Charles
replied, “Well I’m about to go through my wardrobe one last time, myself. Why don’t you come along?” Cedric smiled gratefully and the gnawing in
his stomach lessened as Charles lightly draped an arm around his shoulders and
steered him towards the castle. “I
thought you’d be ready, Uncle,” Cedric pointed out as they walked. “I would have been,” he remarked, “Only I
never knew these grazing pastures of your father’s had such near bog pits
littered around them. I have finally
gone to inspect the livestock your brothers so adamantly insist I see and I’m
afraid my boots and trousers are quite covered in mud.” Cedric looked down to see the thick layer of
heavy mud, which caked the bottom half of Charles’ legs. The smallest of chills inexplicably shot
through Cedric as a small voice in his head whispered, ‘That’s not true.’
He had been to the pastures that day and they had been so dry from the
weather that he had thought to suggest increasing the water supply of the sheep
to his brothers. The harder he thought,
he realised that the only place in Covington Cross that would produce that kind
of deep mud in this climate, was the forest edge on the far side of the
grounds, where the thick overhanging trees and slight dip from the land above,
meant that the rain often drained into the makeshift ditch, and rarely dried
out. His mind turned back to that
strange night in the turret room. His
uncle’s shoes had been covered with the same mud so he was certainly aware of
its existence. Cedric’s thoughts were
beginning to turn in a direction that he was not quite comfortable with and he
fought to remind himself that his suspicions were both irrational and unfair.
After all, perhaps there was a part of the pastures that had been bogged? And even if he had been to the forest, there
was no harm in that. Simply not understanding
his uncle, was no reason to not trust him, the rational part of Cedric’s mind
told him.
By now they had ducked inside one of the side doors to his uncle’s
turret and were winding their way up the narrow, uneven grey steps. Every now and then his uncle dipped his head
to avoid the overhanging torch brackets as he led the way up, but Cedric was
not burdened with the same inconvenience and made his way up the stairs with
much less care, leaving his mind free to wander a path of its own. That path, it
seemed, had inadvertedly wound its way back to Nan. With the tiniest of shudders, her words of caution came echoing
back to Cedric and he mentally rebuked himself for having forgotten them
earlier. He thought about their
conversation and had to admit that he was curious about many things. Maybe Nan was right? Perhaps it would not be so wrong to ask
questions?
“Uncle?” He waited for Charles’ sign to
continue. Cedric thought for a
moment. “What was Aunt Mary like?” Ahead of him, Charles paused ever so
slightly and though he quickly continued climbing, his back had stiffened and
remained so. With his back turned to
him, Cedric could only imagine the expression on his uncle’s face, but the
expression in his voice alone when he spoke, was enough to make the young man
feel uncomfortable. It was not cold -
indeed there was a deal of warmth in his tone
- but it was guarded and he almost imagined, angry. “Beautiful”, he replied, succinctly,
“kind. Carefree - almost wild at
times.” He trailed off into
silence. “Did you love her <very>
much?” Cedric asked, hesitantly. Had he
been looking at him, Cedric would have seen the shadow which cast itself across
his uncle’s face, but even without sight, Cedric could feel its
appearance. “More than she ever knew”,
Charles replied quietly, perhaps more to himself than to his nephew. “Is it true that you were the one to see her
off?” Charles’ voice was laced with
regret. “It is.”
“Could she not have been made to stay?” Cedric wondered.
“And then what? Keep her
forever against her will?” he almost spat back. Then he relented a little, “She
and I were not on the very best of terms then.”
Encouraged by the responses, Cedric felt a little emboldened. “Who was her lover?” he asked.
All at once, Charles rounded on him and Cedric had to grab onto the
windowsill to maintain his balance.
“That - boy - is none of your business!!” Though he had not shouted, his voice had been as hard as iron and
he continued in a quieter tone, laced with the same hardness. “You do not ask such disrespectful questions
of a lady - particularly of your own family.”
He fixed cold, dark eyes on the very nervous young man who could only
nod his head wordlessly, his hanging jaw preventing any recognizable sounds
from forming. After an agonizing pause,
Charles seemed content to leave the matter at that, and they continued their
walk to his room in silence.
***
The sun had sunk lower in the sky and the evening reds had begun to
intricately lace the horizon. An hour
remained at Covington Cross, and though Charles and Cedric were firmly back on
amicable ground and the young man’s packing had been successfully completed,
Cedric had not been able to dismiss the unease, which had nestled in his
heart. The idea of an entire journey to
Chester and back with only his uncle, was beginning to make him nervous. What if he angered him again? he
wondered. What if his uncle had not
truly forgiven him for his last outburst?
The journey would be an uncomfortable one. He was looking forward to strengthening their relationship and to
mending a few bridges, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to
do it alone. Yes, he decided - given
the recent disputes between them, Cedric would feel less awkward if they were
not constantly alone together. If
Richard or William were there, even for only part of the way, it would
certainly help to smooth things over a little.
What he did not acknowledge however - what he would not heed - was the
little voice in the darkest parts of his mind:
the voice, which told him that he well and truly feared his uncle.
“So how long will you be gone for, Uncle Charles?” Eleanor asked, casually as she lent against
the wall by the fireplace of the Great Hall.
He looked up at her from his chair by the table and smiled. “Not too long I should think - a matter of
weeks at the most. While I am away I
expect you to keep up your jousting. Perhaps when I return, it will finally be
time to test you against your brothers,
eh?” She straightened from the wall,
her face positively gleaming. “Do you
really think so?” she asked,
eagerly.
“We shall see on my return, Eleanor,” he replied calmly. “We might do well to check with your father
as well.” Her face fell ever so
slightly. “It wouldn’t do to have his
two eldest sons injured in bed, now would it?” he said with a wink. “Who would shear the sheep?” That earned him the grin he had expected
from her in return. “I will miss you
when you’re gone, Uncle.” Eleanor said, suddenly serious. He patted her hand, gently - an action which
little over a month ago would have caused her great offence and with anyone
else, still might. Now, however, she
was used to it - even appreciated it.
Her whole family had discovered that there was something very disarming
about Charles Grey - almost subterfuge.
“As I will you, my dear,” he assured her earnestly. She smiled shyly at him and glanced
away. “And will you miss Cedric?” he
enquired lightly. She laughed. “The little imp? It would be a deal quieter without him! Twice this week alone, I have heard Father threaten to send him
to the Church within the week! It is
just as well he maintains his poor progress with the Friar,” she joked. Charles regarded her oddly for a moment. She
shifted her feet a little under the look, half sure that he was following the
jest with her but also feeling strangely awkward. Finally she smiled and relented: “Well, I suppose he is good
company when he chooses to be!” She
looked at him sadly for a moment. “You
must not take family ties so lightly any more since...well since you and
Father.” “Indeed not,” he agreed,
gently.
At that moment, a crash and a loud curse could be heard from upstairs
in the Solar. They both turned to the
noise. “God’s Teeth! Confounded cross-bow!” Charles and Eleanor exchanged an amused
glance. “I did warn him that I was having it restrung today and that it was in
little parts across the solar floor.”
“It does not sound as if your Father heeded your advice too well.”
Charles remarked with mock gravity.
“No, it doesn’t, does it?” A
look of concern suddenly crossed her face.
“That was an awfully loud crash and cry - I do hope he hasn’t damaged
the crossbow!” With that she raced off
towards the solar, taking the stairs two at a time, whilst Charles simply
watched her go, somewhat bemused at his niece’s priorities.
A throat cleared softly but rather insistently, behind him. He stood
and turned on the spot to face who ever had just entered. Cedric stood a little way in to the Hall,
his expression relaxed and casual, but his jaw line set and firm. It was obvious to Charles, that whatever his
nephew had come to talk to him about, he was as determined about it as he had
ever seen him be about anything.
Charles folded his arms across his chest and stood, appraising the boy
casually. He waited for Cedric to speak
first and the young cleric wasn’t sure if this was meant to unnerve him, or if
it was a sign of respect. He preferred
to choose the latter. “Uncle Charles,”
he began calmly, “I would like to discuss our trip to Chester.” Charles’ left eyebrow arched in supposed
curiosity but still he remained silent.
Cedric carried on regardless. “I
have been thinking hard about the situation and I feel that perhaps it would be
better if Richard and William were also to accompany us.” The muscles in his uncle’s jaw, tightened
imperceptibly and a sudden stillness overcame his entire body - it was as if he
had been abruptly set in cold, hard stone.
Apparently, his loss of physical movement was substituted with the
return of his voice. “Really?” he
asked, neutrally. “Might I ask why?”
“Well, I don’t really know that much about politics myself and my
brothers would be much better able to help you. This way, I could still learn
from the experience as well. All would
benefit,” he added for good measure.
Charles remained silent for a moment, taking in what he had just
heard. His face was almost unreadable
and for a long moment, Cedric was sure his uncle would refuse and insist that
they both left immediately. However,
abruptly, Charles broke from his silence and his stillness. All at once he was a flurry of movement and
life again, though irritation clearly lined his features. “If you think it best,” he agreed, a little
crossly, “though I had hoped you would be up to the challenge yourself. Clearly we must both wait a while yet before
your sense of responsibility shows itself.”
Cedric was about to protest at this but stopped himself quickly, not
really wanting to change the outcome of the conversation, although inside, his heart
sunk at the loss of his uncle’s respect.
Regardless of the youth’s efforts to curb his tongue, Charles had waved
a hand to silence any protests he might have made. “They must be ready in great haste though or they will delay us
even further! Nevertheless, it seems
you have made a fair point.” Cedric’s
heart lightened a little at this. “I
shall speak with your father now and see if he will allow me to take Richard
and William also. You had best seek
them out in the event of your father’s favourable permission.” He gave a slight nod towards the door and
Cedric turned and hurried off to comply, greatly relieved that Fortune appeared
to be smiling on him again.