“Bah, ye’ll come around,” Watt said with a laugh. Bryce frowned as he took another step. He did not think he would come around. There were things he had seen, things he had done, and other things he had endured, that never needed to come into conversation again. At least, that was the way he felt about it. France had been a nightmare from which he had only just clawed his way out, and he hastened to leave it behind. There had been more than one reason for his return. “Everyone loves a war hero.”
“I’m nae a hero,” Bryce mumbled, coming to a halt behind his brother on the second landing. His mind flashed briefly back to the fields of France, and he could almost smell the thatch rooftops catching fire, almost hear the wailing of the horses and the clambering of men. He did not feel like a hero. Instead, he felt as if he needed to wash. But he had tried that. Many times.
“Ye remember the McAdams lass?” Watt asked, turning to face him on the landing.
“Little Lorna?” Bryce replied, smirking as a few scattered memories floated through his mind. “What about her?”
“Nae so little anymore,” Watt said, rolling his eyes. “She’s here, along with all the other local notables.”
“D’ye have enough ale?” Bryce asked.
“Time will tell,” Watt replied and then paused. Wincing, he said, “She still loves me, I think.”
“Poor ye,” Bryce laughed, clapping his brother on the back. It was good to speak of light things. Happy things.
“Will ye do something for me?” Watt asked, his face growing serious for just a moment in his whirlwind of festivity.
“What?”
“Keep her company tonight,” Watt said. “If me bride sees her fawning, it may get me in trouble, and I dinnae need that on me wedding night.”
“Yer serious?” Bryce asked, surprised. He had never known his brother to take such things into consideration.
“Aye, I’m serious,” Watt said with a nod. “Will ye do that fer me?”
“Of course,” Bryce said with a foolish grin. It was touching to see his brother so concerned with his bride to be, and to be so aware of the small social scene. Time had indeed changed.
“Good man,” Watt said, clapping his hands. Then he began leading Bryce down the corridor off the second landing. “Yer chambers are untouched, I hope ye can make yerself right at home again.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Bryce replied.
“Right then,” Watt said, and they drew to a halt in front of Bryce’s door. “I shall see ye tonight.”
“And I ye,” Bryce said. They shared a quiet moment in front of the door, and Watt clapped Bryce once more on the shoulder.
“It is good tae have ye home,” he said at last, and then went off into the keep.
Bryce stood alone in the corridor for a moment, looking at the door to his chambers. It looked the same as it ever had. He pushed it open tentatively, looking into the small room. There was a bed, a table, a water basin, and a hanging dish of coals for light and warmth. The hearth was wide, and a fire was already crackling inside. It was exactly as he had left it. It stood like a time capsule, a memory of a long-lost time, a time before all the chaos of the continent.
It was a comfort, and it was haunting. Even riding through the village, he had seen that nothing had changed, and now standing in his chambers, the feeling was driven home with a heavy thump. It was still and quiet, like a tomb of his old life.
Bryce walked slowly to the window and opened the shutters. He looked down upon the yard, and slowly lifted his eyes up to the wall, and then out to the villages, and ultimately the Highlands beyond. For better or for worse, he was home.
