Westley stepped off the ship and was greeted by his harbormaster.
“Good day, my lord. Right fine journey, I hope?”
“Yes, to both.”
“It’s excellent timing for your return. I have a number of stonemasons who would like your approval for the construction of the breakwater you designed last season.”
“Excellent. Let them know I’ll be happy to meet them in a day or so. I must first see Buttercup and let her know I’ve arrived safe.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Westley didn’t get far along before the island’s magistrate joined him. “Sir, welcome back,” he bowed. “I am most anxious for your opinion on a dispute I’m hearing. Can you spare an afternoon to join us in deliberations?”
“Of course, but I’m a bit anxious to return home first.”
“Yes, yes, I can imagine you are weary after your journey. This evening, perhaps!”
Westley shook his head and carried on.
He was next accosted by a dairy maid asking his opinion on her cow’s output, then by a blacksmith asking for his approval for a requisition of additional iron, and so on as he made his way up the path to his home. When he finally reached the apple orchard, Peniel caught sight of him and ran to greet him.
“Father! Welcome home – oh, you’re alone, does that mean poor what’s-his-name is killed? Such a pity, he had a nice face.”
“Oh, no, dear, he is quite well,” Westley said, taking her hand and continuing on. “I see you are as chipper as ever. Where can I find your mother, darling?”
“In the library, I should think. Clover had to journey across the bay to negotiate a something-or-other with a supplier, so Mother is watching the littles for her today.”
“Well, good. Will you join me there?”
“Oh Father, I’m sorry, I was just on my way to partake in a little spear diving.” She kissed his cheek, then ran off, calling, “I’ll see if I can spear you something nice for dinner!”
Westley continued until he came across Bracken whacking bushes with his sword.
“They must have been quite naughty, I reckon.”
“Father!” Bracken thrust his sword into a dirt pile and ran to hug him. “Did you kill many pirates?”
“Quite a few, yes.”
“And did the other man survive? The one you escorted?”
“Yes, he did quite well.”
“I’ll bet it was exciting,” the boy sulked. “I wish I could have gone.”
“Now, now,” Westley said, putting his arm around the boy as they walked together. “Fighting pirates is not all it’s cracked up to be. Wouldn’t you rather have a nice peaceful life of farming…or astronomy, perhaps?”
“No.”
Westley smiled. “Well, let us see what the future holds.”
They turned into the library and heard the joyous noise of two small children at play. Sitting at the piano was Buttercup, playing with one hand and holding a baby in her lap with the other.
“Welcome back, Father,” Bracken said before running off.
Buttercup turned. “You’re home! Look my dears, Papa has returned!”
“Hi Grandpapa,” the children said in passing as they continued to scamper around the library. Buttercup slid off the piano bench, hoisted the baby onto her hip, walked up to Westley, and kissed him until the baby started to fidget.
“There, there now,” she said, bouncing the child. She looked at Westley. “You look wonderful. Not a blemish or cut. Was it uneventful? Did the boy survive?”
“It was somewhat eventful, yes. And yes, Trajan is a marvel to behold.”
“So he killed Roberts?”
“Thoroughly.”
Buttercup paused. “It’s rather sad in a way. Such a legacy, gone.”
“It’s a bit more complex than you might assume. There is much to tell.”
“Of course,” she said, hugging him. “And I want to hear every detail. But first Westley, my dear,” she said, handing the baby over, “I really must tidy myself up before supper. Can you manage them for a bit?” She kissed him quickly, not pausing for an answer. “I’m so happy to have you home safe again,” then she patted his cheek before walking off.
“Oh, and Westley, my love?”
“Yes?”
“Do be a hero and change your grandson’s nappy for me. He’s a bit ripe, I’m afraid.”
Westley looked at the child in his arms who stared back at him with a crooked grin.
“As you wish.”
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