Epilogue
A fter three months as queen, Bethany felt that she was finally settling into life in Dal Riada. She’d travelled with Comgall to visit family on his home island, and up the coast to meet with dissatisfied lords. She was even starting to get the hang of sea travel, although she suspected her nausea would only get worse in the coming months.
She and Comgall were in his sitting room at Dunadd, enjoying a rare evening of peace and quiet. Matthew sat beside the fire, reading a small book that Comgall had purchased from an Irish merchant at exorbitant expense. It was all about a saint who battled sea monsters, Matthew said.
Comgall also sat bent over a pile of papers, all laid out on the desk. He was working to improve his Latin reading skills, although he frequently grumbled about it. He might just give up and have everything written in Irish, he said. Bethany admired how hard he was trying, even if Latin did not come easily to him. As for herself, she had fashioned some knitting needles and sat hard at work on a scarf. Knitting might not technically have been invented yet, but it was her favourite craft and she refused to give it up. Life without flushing toilets was bad enough; life without knitting was taking it too far.
A knock on the door disturbed them all from their activities. Comgall and Bethany frowned at each other. It must be someone important, or the guards would not have let them pass.
It was Comgall who stood to open the door. A man in the clothing of a messenger stood there, already bowing low.
“My king,” he said. “I bring news that Princess Eithne of Dal Riada has married the new king of the Picts.”
Comgall sniffed, looking decidedly unimpressed.
“It’s a bit ridiculous that she’s started calling herself Eithne of Dal Riada now,” he said. “That link through her mother is a weak enough one. Looks like her Irish family finally want rid of her. I can only hope that the King of the Picts has better luck with her.”
Bethany sighed as the messenger backed away and the door closed again.
“I do hope she can find a way to be happy, in the end,” she said. “It sounds like she’s been poorly treated by all the men in her life. Goodness knows what happened to Tomás.”
“You’re right,” Comgall said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “But I am very glad that I didn’t marry her. Let’s not arrange a marriage for Matthew. He can choose whoever he likes.”
Bethany smiled.
“I agree. Let’s not have arranged marriages for any of our children.”
Comgall nodded seriously. Then he narrowed his eyes as her words seemed to sink in .
“Any of our children?” he asked.
Bethany’s smile widened.
“It looks like we’re going to have another one,” she said. “I think I was already expecting before we even got married. It won’t be long before Matthew has a little brother or sister.”
Comgall laughed out loud, then tipped Bethany’s chin up so that he could kiss her with all the sweetness and passion that she loved. Bethany had found her friends here, so far away from home, and yet so close. And now she had found her family.