PART THREE
THE RETURNING
Troy de Wolfe had to dodge his eldest son when he entered the bailey; the young man was on a brand new horse he’d been given for Christmas, a young and spirited animal, and he still hadn’t figured out how to control the beast. As Troy watched, Andreas struggled with the very strong young colt until the horse reared up and pitched his son into the snow.
Laughter rose up among the men in the bailey as Andreas picked himself up out of a soft snow drift, nothing harmed but his pride. Troy simply shook his head at his sheepish son as he drew his own steed to a halt, dismounting stiffly. His father, William, approached him.
“I must say, I am surprised to see that you made it back so soon,” William said. “I can only imagine how bad the roads are with this snow.”
Troy nodded his head wearily. In fact, he was exhausted. He leaned against his horse as he pulled off his helm.
“Bad enough,” he said. “Fortunately, the road is mostly straight and flat, all the way to Kelso, but the snow was deep and so was the mud.”
William could see that. The horse’s legs were muddy almost all the way to the shoulder. “Well,” he said, slapping the horse on the neck affectionately, “you have returned and that is all that matters. James and Rose are most anxious to wed.”
Troy nodded, propping his helm on his saddle. “I know,” he said. “We brought Father Bernardo and Father Stephen with us. You know them both, Papa.”
William looked over at the two heavily-robed priests as they were helped from the small cart they had been riding on. “I do,” he said. “I should go and greet them. And you should take the horse into the stable and warm up his legs. The beast looks like he got the worst of it.”
Troy nodded, looking at the mudline on his horse’s legs. “Just so you know, Papa,” he said before his father could move away, “I will be heading back to Monteviot on the morrow. I do not want to be away from Rhoswyn and the baby much longer, and Patrick will be returning to Berwick tomorrow, also.”
Troy and his wife, Rhoswyn, had their first child earlier in the year. With the heavy snows and bad weather, Troy didn’t want his wife and infant son to travel to Questing for the wedding, so he’d left them safely at his outpost of Monteviot Tower. Patrick, too, had left his wife at Berwick as she had just delivered a healthy daughter, so both men were without their wives and children. William knew what it was like for a man to be away from his family for any length of time, so he sympathized completely.
“I know,” he said. “We shall have the mass at sunset, and you and Patrick can be on your way tomorrow, early. You will see them on the morrow, lad.”
Troy simply nodded and turned back to his horse, and William moved towards the priests only to be intercepted by his son, Patrick. The tallest de Wolfe son, and garrison commander of Berwick Castle, greeted his father with a hand to the shoulder.
“Why are you all wet?” Patrick asked, his handsome face curious. “You’d better not let Mother see you like that.”
William pursed his lips wryly. “I am a little wet and, suddenly, everyone becomes a nursemaid,” he said. “I was throwing snowballs with the children. That is why I am wet, if you must know.”
Patrick lifted his dark eyebrows at his petulant father. “As I said… you’d better not let Mother see you like that.”
As the big son wandered off to stable his horse, William continued on to the priests that had just disembarked from their cart. He knew the men; Father Bernardo was fairly high ranking at Kelso and he was surprised to see the priest. He knew Father Stephen better, and it was Father Stephen who greeted him amiably.
“My lord,” the short, round man said pleasantly. “It is a happy day, indeed. We are honored to be asked to officiate your son’s wedding mass.”
William dipped his head in polite greeting. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I know the weather was terrible, but my wife and I are prepared to make a sizable donation for your services.”
Father Bernardo spoke before Father Stephen could. “So we have been told,” he said, seeming displeased. Father Bernardo was slender and bald, and didn’t have much of a friendly manner about him. “What I do not understand is why you and your family could not come to Kelso. Why must we come to Questing?”
William lifted his eyebrows as if the priest had asked a genuinely foolish question. “Because we have dozens of children, wives and men,” he said. “I also have guests here for the days of Christmas. It is much simpler to bring two priests to me rather than me to bring dozens of people to you in this terrible weather.”
While Father Bernardo simply shrugged and looked away, Father Stephen was more apt to smooth over the situation. “We are honored to be here,” he said again. “Mayhap we should discuss the coming ceremony inside? It has been very cold today.”
William nodded, sweeping his arm towards the entry to Questing’s keep. “Then let us retreat to a warm fire,” he said. “My wife would like to join us, I am sure, and I would like you to meet the couple you are to marry.”
With that, he took the priests inside, leaving his sons and men to disband the escort. There was a palpable sense of excitement now that the priests had arrived, and the wedding they’d all been waiting for would soon be on the horizon.
“You do not seem happy for James,” Patrick said to Troy. “In fact, you have been quite depressing the past few days. Whatever is the matter with you?”
It was sunset against a clear winter sky and freezing conditions as Patrick and Troy stood just outside of the keep entry, dressed in their finest. They were waiting for Kevin Hage and Apollo de Norville, young knights who were serving at Questing these days, who were making sure the posts were set for the coming night. They were also waiting for the couple to be married to emerge from the keep, along with a host of guests who were inside waiting for the pair. Then they would then all walk in a group to the entry of the great hall where the mass would be said.
The great hall of Questing, built against the outer wall, had glowing innards, light and warmth filtering out into the deepening night. Smells of the coming feast were heavy in the cold air, making everyone hungry with anticipation.
All was as it should be with the wedding imminent, but Troy hadn’t seemed pleased with any of it and Patrick wanted to know why. He and Troy were very close, so his concern was genuine. Although he had a suspicion what it was, he still wanted to hear it from his brother.
“Well?” Patrick said after a moment when he failed to get a response to his question. “What is wrong?”
Troy grunted softly. He’d been avoiding giving an answer, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. He knew that Patrick already suspected what was wrong.
“Has it been that obvious?” he finally asked.
Patrick nodded. “To me, it has. And probably to Papa. What ails you, Troy?”
Troy was silent for a moment. It was difficult for him to find the words. “It is the same thing that is always the matter with me when the family gathers,” he said quietly.
“And that would be?”
“My other half.”
So it was out. Patrick knew that’s what his brother’s trouble was and it was a sensitive subject for them all, especially for Troy and William. To those two, the missing brother was a deeply painful reality and Patrick was careful in how he proceeded with a conversation they’d had, many times, over the past four years.
“He was invited to the wedding,” he said quietly. “It was not as if he was excluded. He was invited.”
“But he did not come.”
Patrick scratched at his chin, thinking on what to say. This was something they’d discussed a good deal during Scott’s absence and Patrick honestly wasn’t sure there was anything more he could say that would be of comfort to Troy.
“Everyone deals with grief in their own way,” he finally said. “You know that Scott’s way of dealing with it was to run from it. He has started a new life elsewhere and, according to Papa, has finally found peace. Maybe he is simply afraid to come back here to face memories he has tried so hard to forget. You cannot be angry at him for it.”
Troy knew all of that. But it wasn’t a good excuse, at least not one he was willing to accept.
“Why can he not face it?” he asked. “I went through it, too, you know. Did he think he was the only one to feel that kind of grief? Did he think he was alone in all of it? Of course he wasn’t. But instead of facing it, he ran like a coward.”
“He was not a coward. He ran because that was his way of dealing with it.”
“He ran when I needed him the very most.” Troy turned away from his brother, agitated. Talk of his twin truly aggravated him these days; the more time passed, the angrier he became. “I used to feel sorry for him. I used to weep for him and pray he would return, but now… now, I realize he is sending us all a message. Did you ever think of that, Atty? He simply does not wish to have anything to do with us. He does not want to be a de Wolfe any longer.”
Atty was the nickname the family called Patrick, something from his childhood. A sweet and endearing name, brother to brother. Patrick could feel Troy’s hurt.
“I do not think that is true,” he said. “He will come back when he is ready.”
Troy whirled to him. “Then let him come,” he said, “but I have decided something – I will not welcome him. I have decided that Scott has made a conscious choice not to be my brother any longer.”
“That is not true.”
“Aye, it is. If he cared, he would be here. But he is not. That, my dear brother, is a statement to us all. He would rather not have a family.”
Patrick wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d seen Troy go from grief-stricken about the entire affair, to patient, to hopeful, and finally to resentment. The entire family had seen the progression and it was something very concerning, especially to William and Jordan. They couldn’t have one son hating another and believing the worst, but Troy was heading in that direction very quickly.
Hatred.
It was heartbreaking to watch.
“You know,” Patrick said thoughtfully, “you could always go and see him. He is only in Cumbria.”
Troy shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he said flatly. “He left me. I am not going to follow the man around like a lost puppy. If he wants to come to me, then he knows where I am. But he does not want to come. The sooner I get that through my skull, the better I’ll be. The better we’ll all be.”
Patrick put his hand on Troy’s shoulder. “I think you need to be patient a little longer,” he said. “Clearly, Scott is not as strong as you when it comes to dealing with his grief. You must have pity for a man who would run from everything he knows, trying to find a measure of peace. You cannot hate him for it.”
Troy just stood there, looking at his shoes and wringing his hands together, trying to warm them in the freezing temperatures. But it was also a nervous tick; he was so very hurt by his twin’s behavior over the years, a man he’d been closest to in life. He always thought he knew Scott better than he knew himself, but the deaths of their wives had seen that change drastically. The ironclad bond they’d always shared had rusted and fractured.
The truth was that Troy only felt like a half a man these days. He was devastated to realize that he’d feel like that for the rest of his life.
“Whatever happens, Scott has done it to himself,” he said quietly, struggling to calm his anger because he could see people gathering at the keep door. He didn’t want them to see him as an emotional mess. “I had no hand in it. Do me a favor, Atty.”
“What is it?”
“Do not speak his name to me ever again. Will you do this?”
Patrick felt a great deal of sorrow at that request. “Troy…”
“Please, Atty. Never again. I… cannot….”
It was a plea. Patrick was wise enough to recognize that. Not only had Troy lost his wife in that accident, but he’d also lost his twin. For all intents and purposes, they were both dead to him and he was still trying to work through the pain of it all. Reaching out, Patrick put a hand on Troy’s shoulder.
“If you wish it,” he whispered. “But know this… I will never leave you, Troy. I will never run from you. I will always be here for you, no matter what.”
Troy looked at his brother, younger by eighteen months, and he forced a smile. Unable to reply for the lump in his throat, he simply coughed, clearing his throat and struggling to regain his composure as people began to spill through the open door of the keep, heading towards the warm and festive great hall. Troy and Patrick stood back as guests and family spilled forth in great, colorful groups.
First came Paris and Caladora, and their children. Paris already had a cup of warmed wine in his hand, something he was loathed to surrender even though his wife had asked him to. He drank it in complete defiance of his wife’s wishes. Behind the parents, Hector, Apollo, and Adonis came forth with their respective wives, followed by the youngest de Norville daughter, Cassiopeia, holding hands with Penelope de Wolfe.
As Penelope walked by her older brothers, Patrick reached out and tugged on her braid, causing the girl to shriek angrily. When she looked at him accusingly, he pointed to Troy, who held up a fist as if daring the girl to fight him. In a snit, Penelope turned her nose up at him and marched off.
Grinning at each other for having successfully harassed their baby sister, Troy and Patrick continued to stand there as the de Wolfe family emerged. It was William and Jordan leading most of their offspring, including the younger brothers, Edward and Thomas, and daughter Katheryn, who was married to Alec Hage. Behind the de Wolfe family came a variety of guests, including the Earl of Teviot, Adam de Longley, and his wife, several knights serving de Longley, and several other men who were allied knights of de Longley and de Wolfe.
It was quite a parade of well-dressed, important people, but the Hage family was last, bringing the bride and groom with them. Kieran had hold of Rose, possessively, while James came along behind them, looking rather left out as Kieran and Jemma fussed over their daughter. As James passed by Troy and Patrick, they fell in on either side of him, essentially escorting their brother to his wedding.
Father Bernardo and Father Stephen were waiting for the wedding party at the entrance to the great hall, standing in the arched doorway to begin the mass. Usually, marriages were performed at the doorway to the church but, in this case, it would have to be the great hall. As Rose and James took their places in front of the priests to receive the blessing and have the ceremonial ribbon to bind their hands together, everyone watched with approval and with awe, witnessing the marriage of a couple who were very much in love.
It was a beautiful, touching ceremony from the start.
In the midst of the droning Latin and the ringing of small bells, Troy and Patrick caught a glimpse of their parents up at the front of the crowd; Jordan was weeping with joy while William had a tight hold of Penelope, clinging to his youngest child as he watched James get married. It seemed to Troy that his father needed something to hold on to as another de Wolfe child left the nest. God help them all when Penelope married. But it also made Troy reflect back on the day he married his first wife, Helene, because it was in a group much like this one.
Warm memories enveloped him as he thought back to that balmy summer’s day. It had been the first marriage in both families and Paris had wept uncontrollably through the entire ceremony, losing his daughter as he was. Troy grinned to himself as he remembered Helene, usually a cool and calm character, telling her father to stop weeping like a woman. When he wouldn’t stop, she started weeping, too. Because she was weeping, her mother and sisters started weeping until there wasn’t a dry eye in the church.
Troy still laughed about that.
He was so caught up in his reflections of that bittersweet day that before he realized it, the ceremony was over and everyone was moving into the great hall where a vast feast awaited them. With the wedding concluded, the festivities were beginning and Troy was the last one behind Patrick to filter into the great hall.
As soon as he walked in the door, however, Penelope was standing just inside the doorway with a piece of kindling she’d taken from the hearth. As Patrick stepped through, she whacked the man on the knee, causing him to falter. Troy was swift enough to miss the kindling that came flying at him, which he grabbed and turned on Penelope. But Penelope screamed and ran to her father, pointing out that Troy was trying to beat her with a stick, much to William’s disapproval.
So much for Troy and Patrick having the last laugh.
As Penelope smirked, Troy and Patrick plotted their revenge on an eight-year-old girl. But it would have to wait until a time she would least expect it. At the moment, she was on her guard, so Troy and his brother retreated to the long feasting table that contained the newly married couple and most of the families. All was happy and bright as the food began to make its rounds and the wine flowed freely.
The fare for the wedding feast was quite extensive – sides of aged, dried beef had been roasted or boiled, along with fowl, winter vegetables, oat cakes with honey, and a variety of nuts, peas, beans, and copious amounts of bread. It was truly a feast for a king and several of Questing’s soldiers, who happened to play instruments, formed a minstrel group in one corner of the hall and began to play loudly.
It was smoky, loud, and warm in the feasting hall as James and Rose were repeatedly toasted. As more good wishes went around the hall, Hector, Apollo, and Alec Hage made their way down the table to sit with Troy and Patrick, senior knights and commanders who had grown up together and had faced both life and death together. The men toasted the married couple, coming up with more toasts as they went along. Very quickly, there was some drunken laughter going on as the expensive and sweet wine flooded their veins.
It was truly an evening to remember.
Troy had forgotten about his absent twin, instead, enjoying the camaraderie that he did have – his brothers, his dear friends and cousins. There were many of them, men he loved dearly, and thoughts of Scott faded as the hours passed. He was more interested in listening to Hector and Apollo, very humorous men, tell stories about their adventure in a seedier part of London when they’d gone there on business with their father. Something about a whore with no hand who used her stump in ways better left unsaid, as Hector explained it, but Apollo swore she was very good with that stump. It was all quite funny and Troy laughed more than he’d laughed in a very long time. He was moderately drunk, and enjoying himself quite a bit, when he looked down the table and caught the expression on his father’s face.
As if the man had seen a ghost.
Suddenly, things weren’t so funny and Troy was concerned with his father’s expression. William was looking at the hall entry, but Troy had his back to it. He was about to turn and look to see what had his father so rattled when his mother suddenly screamed and leapt out of her seat, rushing around the table towards the entry door.
In fact, several people were gasping with surprise, with shock, and James and William actually bolted to their feet. It was then that Troy turned to see what had them all so excited.
It was a sight he never thought he’d see ever again.
“Scott,” Troy heard Patrick whisper.
Scott!
Troy could hardly believe his eyes. Was the wine playing tricks on him? He closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he opened his eyes again, Scott de Wolfe was still standing in the hall entry, bundled up heavily against the freezing temperatures.
It was really him.
When Troy realized it was no apparition, he felt as if he’d been hit in the stomach. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare. Patrick was already out of his seat, moving to the hall entry just as the rest of the de Wolfe family was, and Troy could hear his mother weeping as she threw her arms around her Prodigal Son.
God, they were painful tears, tears of joy and yet sorrow. Four years of longing, of waiting and wondering, had finally come to an end for Jordan and all of the emotion she’d kept bottled up for those years was bursting forth.
Scott had come home!
The joy, the surprise, was contagious. The entire table began gravitating in Scott’s direction at this point, everyone moving to greet the son that had run off those years ago. Troy actually lost sight of Scott as the man was bombarded by people who were so very happy to see him, so anxious to greet him.
All except Troy.
He was virtually the only one left at the table because he simply couldn’t make himself go to the man. As shocked as he was to see him, it was shock compounded with all of the bitterness and resentment he’d been feeling. Those emotions were always close to the surface when it came to Scott. But now with the man’s surprising appearance, they were stronger than they’d ever been.
All he could feel now was loathing.
And he wasn’t going to go running to the man and welcome him back, pretending that everything was all right, pretending that Scott hadn’t hurt people with his cowardice. When he’d run out, he’d taken the guts of his parents and everyone else who loved him and stomped on them. Now, here he was, returned because he received an invitation to his brother’s wedding. Or was it something else?
Was he here to ruin Christmas for them all?
Well, Troy wasn’t going to put up with it. He simply turned around, collected his cup of wine, and pretended not to care. But that wasn’t good enough. He could still hear people welcoming Scott. Everyone was so happy about it. He could hear his Uncle Paris’s voice above all. The man was ecstatic. That kind of joy sickened and disgusted Troy. Didn’t they remember what Scott had done to them all?
Didn’t they realize he had made a conscious choice not to be part of the family?
But Troy realized it. He realized what everyone else did not. Slamming his cup down, he vacated the table and slipped out of the hall from the servant’s alcove.
Out in the crisp, black night, he moved away from the hall and the festivities, struggling to get a rein on his emotions. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going; he was simply walking, putting distance between himself and the great hall where his Prodigal Brother had returned. He didn’t want to see him; he couldn’t see him. All of those people were gleefully willing to forget Scott’s selfishness, but Troy wasn’t.
He wasn’t willing to forget anything.
Somehow, Troy found himself in Questing’s long, slender chapel. The front half of the structure was the church while the back half of it was a burial crypt. Scott’s wife, Athena, and their two children, Beatrice and Andrew, were buried there, right next to Helene and her two children, Arista and Acacia. The women were lying head to head in their separate crypts, close in death as they had been in life.
Troy wandered into the rear of the chapel, going to Helene’s crypt, which was something he did every time he visited Questing. His new wife, Rhoswyn, had visited Helene, too, so it wasn’t unusual for Troy to be here. These days, he felt peace with it, like visiting an old friend. But now, he was here to talk to the dead. He didn’t want to talk to anyone living at the moment.
They wouldn’t understand.
Helene’s crypt had a beautifully carved effigy of her holding her two daughters in slumber and at her feet lay a wolf. Carved into the base of the crypt were the following words –
Lady Helene, beloved wife of Troy
Arista – Acacia
They are simply sleeping
Troy stood there a moment, looking at the effigy of his first wife. He had been here for her, even after death. He’d respected her memory, unlike his brother. Then, his gaze moved to Athena’s crypt and he wandered over to it. Her effigy was nearly the same, only she had her two children on either side of her, arms around them both. At the base of her crypt was inscribed:
Lady Athena, beloved wife of Scott
Andrew – Beatrice
Angels on earth, angels in heaven
Troy sighed heavily as he looked at his sister-in-law’s crypt. The more he looked at it, the more angst he felt.
“He’s returned, Tee,” he said quietly. “Can you believe it? I just saw him standing in the great hall. James has married, you know. I do not know if your mother or father have told you, but James married Rosie today. The entire family was here except Scott, but he just showed up. Everyone is welcoming him home as if he is a long-lost hero.”
Even as he said it, he could hear his bitterness in his voice. So much anger. He put his hands on Athena’s crypt, distress in his expression.
“I never told you how sorry I was for what he did,” he said hoarsely. “When you and Bee and Andy were brought back, someone should have been there for you. Scott should have been there for you. He was your husband, was he not? But he left you to die alone, to be buried alone. He left it to the rest of us to try to fill that hole, but we could not. Scott was such a coward that he ran away and left everything behind. Now, he has come back and I do not know what to do. I am not sure I can overcome what he’s done.”
Those last few words were the crux of the situation. Too much sadness and resentment had built up in Troy for him to adequately handle what he was feeling. He moved to stand between the two crypts, leaning against Helene’s crypt as he put his hand on the head of Athena’s effigy.
“I have gone my entire life believing my brother was the most noble, moral man alive,” he muttered. “He could do no wrong in my eyes. He was perfect and I adored him. But when he ran… that made me see him differently. That made me see how weak he truly was and, try as I might, I am still having trouble accepting that the man I loved most in this world, the man I thought I knew better than anyone, is a coward. Is that to be his legacy? That he ran away when you and the children needed him most?”
“Do you want to know why I ran away?”
A familiar voice filled the dark, musty air of the burial vault and Troy turned to see Scott standing just inside the doorway that led from the nave.
For a moment, Troy simply stood there and stared at the man, a million thoughts and emotions running through his mind. But he couldn’t seem to grasp one, nor speak one. He couldn’t seem to bring forth those words of hatred or condemnation when he needed them most. But as he looked at his brother, the wall of composure he’d kept up was starting to come down, stone by stone. He could feel the angst in his chest bursting forth and it was difficult… so very difficult… to keep a rein on what he was feeling.
“What are you doing here?” he finally asked. “How did you find me?”
“Papa thought you might have come here.”
Troy grunted, returning his gaze to the crypt. “And so, I did,” he said. “I never thought I would see you ever again.”
Scott de Wolfe took a step into the vault, and then another. Whereas Troy was dark-haired and rather swarthy looking, Scott took after their mother’s side of the family, with honey-blond hair and hazel eyes. He was riveted to his twin, a man he hadn’t seen in four years and, suddenly, four years of longing and pain and confusion seemed to come to a rapid head. Seeing his brother was emotional enough, but seeing the contempt in his brother’s eyes was more than his soul could bear. At this moment, at this blessed moment, Scott had to say what he’d been waiting four years to say, whether or not Troy wanted to hear it.
He’d come all this way to say it.
“I can imagine that you thought so,” he said huskily. “I am equally sure that you are not anxious to do so. I do not blame you, Troy. I do not fault you for anything you are feeling towards me. But for my own sake, I must tell you why I ran that day.”
Troy was starting to tremble, his emotions getting the better of him. He pointed to Athena’s effigy. “Do not tell me,” he said. “Tell her. Tell Tee why you ran off like a coward instead of remaining with her like you should have. The woman had to be buried alone, for Christ’s sake, because her husband was nowhere to be found. Do you have any idea how horrible that was?”
Behind him, he could hear Scott’s footfalls as the man made his way over to the crypt that contained his dead wife and children. They were slow and labored steps. Finally, Scott just stood there a moment, staring down at the crypt, and Troy couldn’t even look at him. He had to turn away, realizing his eyes were burning with angry, unshed tears.
“Greetings, Tee,” Scott said softly, although his voice was tight with emotion. “I am sure you do not wish to see me, either, but I have come nonetheless. Troy is right… you were buried alone. I should have been here for you and the children, but I was not. God forgive me for that. But something caused me to run, something that affected me so deeply that it was as if I no longer had any control over my heart or my mind. Troy has asked me to tell you why I ran away when I should have remained here, strong and tall, so I will tell you. I remember that day very clearly, you see, because I had spoken with you right before you got into that carriage with your sister. Do you recall? I was the one who had the carriage brought around and I was the one who personally loaded you and Bea and Andy into the carriage. I kissed you farewell and I watched you ride off, knowing full well that we’d had terrible rains as of late and that the rivers and creeks between Questing and Berwick Castle were overflowing their banks. You were going to Berwick that day to see Patrick’s new son. I even loaded the baby’s gifts into the carriage with you. I put you in that carriage.”
There was no reply from the stone effigy. Not that Scott expected that there would be, but after four years of avoiding this moment, now he was here, facing his dead wife and children, feeling those emotions of grief and anguish bubble up again, emotions he had healed from for the most part. But he knew he would never be completely healed until he faced what terrified him most, and this was that moment.
He was facing the results of his actions.
“It was me,” he said as he began to break down. “I did it. I put you and Helene in the carriage. I could have stopped you; I could have told you to travel another day when the land was not so soggy, but I did not. I was preoccupied with an errand for my father and I was not as cautious as I should have been. All of this… you and the children, Helene and the girls… all of this was because of me.”
His voice cracked at the end and the tears began to fall on the stone. Standing at the head of the crypt, Troy couldn’t stop the tears, either. Hearing his brother’s voice, hearing his thoughts and emotions from the past four years, were carving into him like a knife. The pain was excruciating. He was still looking away from Scott, his eyes closed as tears streamed down his cheeks.
So, the truth had come forth – the guilt Scott had felt at letting the women go on the journey that would ultimately claim their lives. It had never even crossed Troy’s mind that Scott should feel that way, for what had happened had been an accident. At least, Troy saw it that way, but Scott had clearly spent four years shouldering tremendous guilt.
God, it was horrific to hear.
“Scott…,” he began hoarsely.
But Scott cut him off. “I am sorry, Troy,” he wept softly. “I am so sorry that I caused your pain. I am so sorry that I did this to you. If I could have exchanged my life for the lives of Athena and Helene, please know that I would have. But the worst part of all was when I returned to Questing and Papa told me what had happened. As I stood there, unable to believe it, you came out of the keep and fell to your knees. As I watched, the strongest man I’d ever known vomited into the earth and collapsed right before my very eyes. And I watched it all, knowing that it was my fault. Your pain was my fault. Was I a coward for running? I was. God knows, I was. But I was too disturbed to stay, too afraid I would crumble into a thousand pieces of agony that would never be put back together again. If grief had collapsed you the way it did, what on earth would it do to me?”
Troy had his hand over his face, weeping into his hand. It was the grieving he’d done four years ago, now with his brother’s pain compounding his because Scott felt that he was to blame for everything.
Now, he was grieving for his brother.
“It was not your fault,” Troy whispered, wiping at his face and struggling to stop the tears. Finally, he looked at his brother, seeing the man he’d always loved, the man he’d been the closest to. “I never blamed you for what happened. But I did blame you for running from it.”
“I could not face you.”
“What else was I supposed to think, if not cowardice, from a man who did not have a cowardly bone in his body? How was I supposed to know you ran because of guilt?”
Scott shook his head, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his face. “You could not think anything other than what you did,” he said. “It looks like cowardice. It was. But in my defense, I saw it as self-preservation, I suppose. I saw it as removing the cause of everyone’s anguish.”
Troy took a deep breath, fighting down the tears and struggling for calm. All of the anger and resentment he’d been feeling was melting away as he began to understand Scott’s perspective.
In truth, he should have suspected it all along, but he’d been too hurt to try. Now, he understood a great deal and the hate, the bitterness, was gone. He couldn’t keep it up, not when Scott was hurting so badly. He went to his brother, a man he loved so deeply, and put his hand on the man’s face. He just stood there a moment, looking at him, feeling as if all of this was some kind of dream. Scott was really here, in front of him, and it was time for him to say everything he’d been wanting to say to the man.
He’d waited long enough.
“It was not your fault,” he said, more firmly. “It was a terrible accident. It could have been any one of us putting the women in the carriage and seeing them off. It just happened to be you. And it never occurred to me, in all these four years, to blame you for that. I do not, nor have I ever, blamed you for what happened. But I have missed you every single day of the past four years, Scott. I thought you decided you did not want to be my brother any longer.”
Scott smiled weakly, seeing the light of forgiveness in his brother’s eyes where only moments before, there had been animosity and rage. “I thought, mayhap, you did not want me to be your brother any longer,” he admitted.
Troy shook his head. “You are part of me and I am part of you,” he said. “But I am sorry you felt as if you had to stay away. I am sorry you did not feel as if we could draw strength from one another in this time of sorrow.”
Scott reached up, gripping the hand that was on his face. His brother’s touch was incredibly comforting, more than he’d ever realized. “I was a fool,” he said. “It took me a long time to come to terms with my grief and with my guilt. It was just easier to try and shut everything out so it did not consume me. The longer I stayed away, the more difficult it was to face it.”
Troy understood that. Sometimes, men had moments of weakness that they lived to regret. He gripped his brother’s hand tightly.
“Tell me that you will not disappear again, then,” he said. “Tell me that you have come home to stay and that we shall never again be without each other.”
Scott was nodding his head even before Troy finished his sentence. “That is why I came home,” he said. “It was time. When I received the missive regarding James’ wedding, I knew I had to come. My wife encouraged me to come.”
Troy smiled faintly. “Papa said you had married again.”
Scott smiled in return. “Avrielle is her name,” he said. “She is a remarkable woman of great wisdom and I considered myself blessed. You will like her, Troy. I know you will.”
“I am sure of it.”
“Papa tells me that you have married again, too.”
Troy nodded. “Rhoswyn is Scots,” he said. “A finer woman you will never meet.”
“Papa also says she terrorizes you.”
Troy broke down into a laugh. “When you meet her, see if she does not terrorize you, also,” he said. “She is the only child of Red Keith Kerr and he raised her like a son. She fights like a warrior, Scott. Do not tangle with the woman, for you will lose.”
Scott was warming to the conversation, so incredibly glad to be speaking to his brother again, as if he’d never left him. The warmth, the bond, was still there. It hadn’t been completely destroyed, and he could feel it strengthening by the second.
“Red Keith Kerr, you say?” he repeated. “Of Sibbald’s Hold?”
“The same.”
“I did not even know he had a daughter.”
“Nor did I until it was too late.”
Scott laughed. Troy laughed. Suddenly, they were throwing their arms around each other, embracing one another tightly. All of the hurt, guilt, and resentment was gone in that instant, never to come between them again.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Troy said, his throat tight with emotion. “Swear to me you will not leave me again. When you left, I felt so abandoned.”
Scott clutched his brother tightly. “I swear I will never leave you, not ever,” he whispered. “Forgive me for leaving you, Troy. Forgive me for not being strong enough to stay.”
Troy stopped hugging his brother long enough to look the man in the eye. “You did what you had to do in order to keep your sanity,” he said. “I suppose I understand that now. Everyone was trying to tell me that, but it was difficult to swallow. But as Papa has said all along, every man grieves in his own way. My way was to remain here and to suffer through the agony. Your way was to try to forget about it. But I am so sorry you felt as if you were responsible for everything. It was not your fault.”
Scott forced a smile at his beloved brother. “I will come to accept that someday.”
Troy patted him on the cheek again. “I hope you do,” he said. “Now… I suppose we should go back to the hall. Everyone will want to see you, you know. Already, it is probably killing Mother to give us this time alone.”
Scott’s grin broadened. “Papa is probably having to tie her down somewhere.”
Troy snorted. “Then we had better go back to the hall and spare them both the agony.”
Scott nodded, but his gaze moved to the crypt containing his wife and younger children. “Go ahead,” he said. “I need to spend a few moments with Tee and the girls, as I should have done before.”
That gave Troy pause. “Will you be okay?”
“I will, I swear it.”
“As you wish,” Troy said. His eyes lingered on the man for a moment. “I am so glad you’ve come home. It is the best Christmas gift I could have hoped for.”
Scott gave him a lopsided grin. “A Christmas miracle is more like it. The miracle is your forgiveness, Troy.”
Troy simply shook his head. “It is the bond of brotherhood that goes deeper than any common bond,” he said. “Whatever happened four years ago… remember that we are stronger together than apart.”
“Agreed.”
Giving his brother another hug, Troy wandered from the vault, leaving Scott alone in the shadowed, cold depths. Once he heard Troy’s boot falls fade, he turned to the beautiful effigy of the woman he once loved.
Reaching out, he put a hand on her cold, stone face.
“Mayhap if Troy can forgive me, you can, too,” he murmured. “Mayhap someday, I will feel as if you have. But I do want to tell you that I have remarried, Tee. I know you would like her – she is kind and generous, and I love her. I never thought I would find love again, but I have. I hope – nay, I know – that you are happy for me.”
It made him think of Avrielle, his wife, and all of his children, both living and dead. He’d suffered through some terrible tragedies in his life, but he was home again now. He would be stronger for it. Reaching out, he touched the effigy one last time.
“I thought you would want to know that I am happy again,” he whispered. “I hope you are, too.”
There was no answer, of course, but Scott smiled at the effigy just the same. He’d been dreading this moment, the moment when he would face his wife’s crypt. But it was becoming easier as the moments passed. He was coming to grips with it and he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he came to visit Athena and the children. In fact, returning to Castle Questing felt as if he’d never left. Wherever he lived, Questing would always be home to him. As much as he loved his new wife and his life with her in the wilds of Cumbria, Questing was where his family was.
As difficult as it had been, he was glad he’d come home.
Very glad.
Bending over the crypt, he kissed Athena, Beatrice, and Andrew’s effigies, feeling that some larger part of him was now complete. No more guilt, no more missing his family, no more trying to shut out a part of his life that could not be forgotten. He didn’t want to forget about it any longer.
Someday, he’d bring Avrielle to Questing and then, the healing process would be complete. He would come full circle. But until that time, he intended to enjoy the family he’d not seen in four long years.
Finally, the Prodigal Son had returned. Peace had been made.
On a dark and cold December night, the de Wolfes had the most joyous Christmas of all.
THE END
A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas is an extended epilogue for and .