Caomhnóir - 32

“I know you never lived in a castle, but if you had, would it have been like this?” Thom wanted to know as he looked at the thick stone walls of King John’s Castle.

“Aye, much like it. ‘Tis of the same time, almost, as when I lived.”

Thom chuckled. “You’re suddenly developing an accent, my Keegan. Next you’ll be spouting Gaelic.”

“Would ye understand if I did?” Keegan said; his eyes suddenly serious as he looked at Thom.

“Some, yes, mo fear daor. You’ve been teaching me, even though you didn’t know it. Admittedly just endearments, but it’s a start.”

“Aye.” Keegan smiled, pulling Thom back against him as they stood on the battlements, looking out over the Shannon River. “Imagine you’re standing up here and you see Cromwell’s troops outside the walls, laying siege to the castle. It was a bad time, Thom. A bad time.”

“You were here then?”

Keegan nodded. “I had a mission, as always.” He smiled, turning them away from the view. “A story for another time, we’re here to have fun and enjoy ourselves. Come, let’s explore.”

An hour later they were leaving the castle, Thom with some relief. “I don’t know that I could have survived under those conditions,” he commented quietly.

Keegan nodded. “War is not pretty, no matter the time or place, but you do what you can to make the best of it. You’re strong; you would have made it through.”

“I’m a city boy, born and bred, not a warrior like you, although I suppose, if necessary—” Thom grew pensive as they walked down the street towards the pub where they were going to get some lunch.  

“One does what one must,” Keegan told him, giving his shoulders a squeeze as he turned him towards the pub door. “Now, good food, we hope, and a couple of ales and you’ll be back to your normal, cheerful self. Then we’ll go to the Market.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Thom agreed with a chuckle. “That is if we can even find a seat.”

“There.” Keegan pointed to a small, vacant table in a dark corner. Not too much later they were drinking their ales as they worked their way through thick chowder and sandwiches that could have fed a family of four.

Finally, stuffed to the gills, Thom decided a walk was in order. “How far are we from the Market,” he asked as he finished the last of his ale.

Taking out his cell, pointing out Thom could have done the same, Keegan checked. “According to this, about a ten minute walk, twenty if you insist on looking in every shop window along the way.”

“Now would I do that?” Thom said with a grin.

“If you didn’t, I’d be worrying.”