“I am here for the wedding,” the warrior said, pulling his horse to a halt at the gate.
“Well, sure ye are,” the guard snarled. “And who might ye be then?”
The second guard realized the answer to the question before the warrior answered, and his face went pale, instantly regretting his leader’s gruffness. He shuffled up behind the lead guard and whispered something into his ear, who also paled.
“M’Laird,” he said, lowering his weapon. “Forgive me, I dinnae recognize ye.”
“Ye are forgiven,” the warrior said with a smile. It had been a long time, after all.
“Open the gate!” they hollered up, and shortly the steel bars rose with a great groan, and the wooden doors behind it were unbarred and let open.
The warrior rode into the yard and drank deep the smell of the hilltop breeze that ran around the length of the outer wall, watching the bustle of the keep unfolding around him. There were plenty of villagers running about, rolling barrels, and hauling tarps, hitching ropes, and tamping dirt.
It wasn’t hard to spot the Laird himself, standing up on a small crate, directing the movement of a large wooden table and the erecting of the pavilion. He was a large man, no longer as tough in the middle as he used to be but he wasn’t fat by any sense of the word.
His hair was tied back neatly and fell in two long sections over each of his shoulders, complementing his freshly groomed beard and his fine clothes. His tunic was accentuated by the way he puffed out his chest and held up his hands, waving the villagers about as they strained beneath the great wooden table, trying to set it just right beneath the pavilion.
“Just there!” he bellowed. “No, come on, a little tae the left! Come on now!”
“Och, leave it, Watt!” the warrior bellowed, dismounting near the gate, and advancing on foot toward the Laird. “It looks just fine!”
The Laird stopped, frozen by the warrior’s voice. He turned slowly, his hands still raised up, and a look of giddy excitement quickly taking over his face. He stopped when he locked eyes with the advancing warrior, his eagerness quickly breaking out into a wild smile.
“I dinnae believe it,” the Laird said, his smile now as big as it could be. “Me brother Bryce! Back from France! Come here, ye blaigeard!”
Watt jumped down from the crate and bounded the rest of the distance to Bryce, taking fast hold of his shoulders, and staring deeply into his eyes as he held him there in the yard.
“I am glad tae see ye, Bryce,” Watt said softly, his grip relaxing a little bit.
“Did ye think I would miss yer wedding?” Bryce asked in a teasing tone, his own smile beginning to take hold. There was a small cluster of peasants gathering around the reunion, looking upon the Laird’s long-lost brother, smiling and patting one another on the back at the warm moment.
“I dinnae ken if I would ever see ye again,” Watt said, squeezing Bryce’s shoulders once more before finally letting go. “When I heard of the Lady Joan, I feared the worse.”
“Well, here I am,” Bryce said. “Ye’ve certainly got this place in a tizzy, have ye nae?”
“Och well,” Watt said with a casual shrug. “A spectacle is good for morale.”
“Aye,” Bryce chuckled. “In that, ye may be right.”
“Come! Come inside!” Watt said, throwing his arm around Bryce’s shoulder. “D’ye have nae trunks? Let’s get ye sorted.”
“It is just me and meself,” Bryce answered, pacing alongside his brother toward the keep. He looked back to see that Gaisgeachd was taken care of.
“What o’ yer armor?” Watt asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yer clothes?”
“I sold everything,” Bryce replied. “Save me sword.”
“Always the odd one, were ye nae?” Watt asked. “How was the voyage?”
“Rough seas up the coast,” Bryce replied, now walking in stride with his brother. “But a fine ride from there.”
“The rain never did bother ye,” Watt said as they approached the keep’s door.
“It’s just rain, is it nae?” Bryce shot back, and they crossed the threshold into the keep.
“Ye will be a light at the feast,” Watt went on, leading his brother up the stairs. “Everyone will want tae hear of France.”
“Then everyone will be disappointed,” Bryce said. “I have nae wish tae speak on it.”
