Chapter 9
B ethany tried to stifle a yawn. Her position in the chair beside Comgall’s was no doubt one of honour, but she would rather be in her own little room, away from all these prying eyes. It had already been a long day, and it was not even noon yet. Matthew dozed on her lap, which was a mercy. If he’d stayed awake, he might have caused chaos out of sheer boredom.
For one day a week, it had been explained to her, Comgall sat in his hall and dispensed justice to his people. Anyone could come, from any part of Dalriada, and he gave judgements on all kinds of cases. While Bethany felt unsettled in such a public place, and far too conscious of all the ways she did not belong here, she could not help but be impressed. From what she had seen so far, Comgall’s judgement was fair and shrewd. He had judged how inherited property should be divided, how a blood feud should be settled, and even how a cow should be kept off a neighbour’s land.
Bethany would never have guessed that Comgall had been king only a few weeks. It seemed that he had been well prepared for it. Carefully educated all his life, no doubt. She looked across the hall to where his mother, the middle-aged Princess Maible, sat straight-backed in her own chair, watching the proceedings with eagle eyes. No doubt she was responsible for Comgall’s suitability as king. She must have raised him, after all.
Matthew awoke with a yawn partway through a case regarding fishing rights. Bethany lowered him down to the floor and slipped one of his favourite toys from the small bag that hung around her waist. He accepted it without complaint, but Bethany knew it would not occupy him for long. She gazed at the hall door in longing. It would be best to take her son outside, but how would she excuse herself? She seemed expected to be here. The servants had led her here without explanation first thing this morning, and no one had since suggested that she leave. Or eat.
The hall doors flew open right before her eyes. Dubnus marched in, his white and gold robes flying out behind him. Bethany’s skin prickled. This could not be good. Dubnus had made no effort to act like her friend.
The priest strode into the middle of the hall. All the noise and chatter fell silent as everyone turned to stare at him. Even Comgall fell silent.
Dubnus thrust one arm out, pointing dramatically at Bethany.
“This woman,” he declared. “Is not Princess Eithne! She is a fraud, lying about her identity!”
Everyone gasped. Bethany froze. How to defend herself? She could offer no proof. No one else moved to defend her. Did anyone believe that she was the princess ?
Then a small, wizened old woman stepped out from the crowd. She came to stand between Dubnus and Bethany. With a small curtsey, she smiled up at Bethany.
“I am Finola, wise woman of Dunadd,” she said. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess Eithne.”
Then she turned on Dubnus, her shoulders rising and her whole body seeming to grow.
“How dare you insult a princess and our king’s betrothed,” she said, her voice booming around the hall. “Do you have any proof of your ridiculous accusations? No, of course not. This woman has suffered enough on her journey here. Back down, Dubnus, and stop embarrassing yourself. This woman is clearly the princess. I’ve never met anyone else so regal in my life.”
Dubnus glared at her. But the murmuring in the hall sounded more like agreement than anger. Did people believe this Finola woman?
Dubnus’s nervous gaze as he looked around the hall seemed to suggest he sensed the same. He was outnumbered.
“Damned heathen woman,” he muttered. Then he strode off, striding back out of the doors and vanishing into the crowd beyond. With a wink at Bethany, Finola likewise disappeared into the crowd of onlookers.
“My apologies, Eithne,” Comgall said. “That was an unpleasant scene.”
When Bethany turned to look at him, his brow was furrowed in a deep frown. But was he angry on her behalf, or at her? Something shifted deep in his eyes, and Bethany found herself leaning towards him, remembering the feel of his lips on hers. Then he turned away and the moment vanished.
The proceedings continued and Comgall returned his attention to his subjects. Bethany sank back into her chair with Matthew clutching her hand. She tried to untangle her thoughts, but it was difficult when her heart raced and her breath still scraped in her throat. Did Dubnus genuinely know that she was not Eithne? Did he have any evidence, other than a vague sense something was wrong?
And if he did have any evidence, what would he do with it?