“Wrong? There’s nothing wrong.”
Tristan arced a brow – the equal of Rhys’ ducal arc of brow. The one he deployed when being officious.
His brother paced the grass, swashing the daisies, yellow heads now rolling.
“I…er. Well, maybe we aren’t quite…” Rhys cleared his throat. “Well, you see…” He scuffed his boots on a clump of earth. “I… Damn it, as you well know I’m hopeless with the spoken word…” His black eyes stared up with such deep anguish. “But I… I failed you.”
Tristan lowered his lids. “In what way could you have ever failed me?”
“I…gave up, for hell’s sake, gave up looking for you. I thought you dead and I just…gave up once the wreckage washed ashore. How can you ever forgive me?”
“Rhys–”
“For sixteen months you were without your memories, disorientated and in pain. Devil only knows how that must have felt while I…I just ceased looking. I should have searched and searched. Torn the world to shreds to find you.”
“But you did. Gwen told me you had men out everywhere and that you yourself tried to set sail that night from Barstone Harbour.”
“It was too damn rough.” He stamped the grass flat. “At dawn we had all the villagers hunting for you. Men sent to the Llyn Peninsula, all the way north to Rhyl and south to Aberystwyth. Fishermen scoured the waters, caves and rocks. But Ireland?” He tugged at his hair. “Why the hell didn’t I think of it?”
“It’s at least a twelve-hour sail, and that’s with the wind in your favour, so of course you wouldn’t. I’ve no idea how I got there either.”
“But you’re my twin, damn it,” he bellowed. “We watch out for one another. And I failed. Completely failed you. I don’t see how you can ever forgive that.”
“There’s nothing to forg–”
“Stop being so bloody reasonable! As your twin I should’ve known you were alive. Felt it. That bond of birth which binds us. Felt it in here.” He pounded his chest. “Yet I felt naught. If anything, I felt…no, Iknew…knewyou were gone. That’s in part why I ceased looking. I felt so hollow. How could I have felt that way!”
And there was the crux.
They were born of the same womb at the same hour, had gabbled together in their own tongue as infants, known each other’s tribulations and joys without words, a bond that had forever been strong.
Tristan briefly closed his eyes. “And does the same not go for me, my twin? Because how was it possible I could not remember you? Why did I likewise feel naught but a black abyss?” He grabbed hold of his brother’s arms. “It’s because for a time, for sixteen months, Iwasdead, Rhys. Do you hear me? I was dead to all.” He breathed deep. “You couldn’t feel me because Tristan, the brother you knew, was not of this earth. His memories of you, his own daughter, his life here in Wales were…gone, imprisoned beneath the waves.” His hands clenched wool. “All that was left was a bare shadow of a man working in a carpenter’s shop in an Irish village that isn’t even on the bloody map.”
“But–”
“And if this has taught me anything, it’s how…lost I felt without you all. And I still feel that loss because we are not in accord. I love you, Rhys, my brother, and there is no failure on your part or forgiveness from me needed, for fate tricked us all for her own reasons. She is the one who failed us. Yet she is also the one who brought us back together.” He released him to swipe at his eyes. “And you’re a great blithering lummox.”
“I’m not a lummox,” Rhys countered, swiping at his own eyes. “I’m a duke.”
A smile cracked Tristan’s lips. “Come, brother, let’s sit a moment, my leg will not hold so long– And before you indulge in guilt, remember that I still have a leg, which is more than can be said for many returning soldiers. Brecken had a bayonet slice his open to the muscle.”
In silence, they ambled to the bench that faced the Llanedwyn mausoleum, a place of boundless memories and endless time.
“I know I’ve changed, Rhys. I can’t seem to find that carefree man of old.”
“Life isn’t all carefree. When your Sarah died, there was none of that for months and longer, but we got through it. And in any case, all of us here changed in your absence also.” He twisted on the bench. “What you have to remember, Tris, is that not only did you stare death in the face but we all staredyourdeath in the face, and it was…heart-wrenching. For Mari, Gwen, Mrs Pugh, Elen, all of us. I think it has changed all of our perspectives.”
They remained quiet for a while, yet it was not wretched or uncomfortable but companionable and good. A robin stalked the mausoleum steps like a red-breasted guard of honour and starlings circled above, defending the skies. Some said winter was a lifeless time, yet energy and beauty surrounded them here. You just had to be still and wait and watch.
He stretched out his stiff leg. “I’m so glad Mari had you. Thank you, Rhys, for giving her your time and taking care of her so well.”
“She was likewise my crutch, to tell you the truth. Her vivacity brought the house alive and her dramatics made me laugh when I felt there was little to be joyous about.”
“I fear I was too lenient a father.”
“You gave her the confidence to be who she wishes.”
Tristan nodded, his gaze shifting to inspect the daisies which Rhys still clasped, now looking rather forlorn.
