Chapter 38
T his time, Comgall was going to do it properly. He had picked out a splendid gold arm ring to use as a gift - jewellery was a tradition at these things. It was terrible that he hadn’t thought of it earlier. This particular arm ring came from his mother’s collection, and had been in her family for generations. Since before the Romans, maybe. She’d given it to him along with her blessing.
As for the best place, it had to be somewhere near the seashore. Somewhere near the place where he first saw Bethany and felt his heart clench in his chest at the sight of her. Her long, dark hair tangled by the sea breeze. Dark eyes, fearful but still proud. Golden skin, almost glowing in the evening light. He’d wanted to hate the woman he’d thought was Eithne, but how could he do anything but love her?
His mother had agreed to bring Bethany down here, but they were a little later than he’d expected. He shifted nervously from one foot to another. Where were they? His nerves had reached such a height that his palms were sweating. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he was sixteen, when his father sent him into his first battle. Taking a deep breath of salty air, he tried to calm himself. Bethany loved him, he was sure of it. She’d never said it outright, but she had chosen to stay here. She’d made that decision for him, surely?
But his nerves would not listen to reason. What if she rejected him again - here, in front of everyone? He might never recover from it.
Ciaran rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Stop worrying,” he murmured. “She loves you.”
Comgall clasped his friend’s hand for a second. He was so grateful for Ciaran, after everything that had happened. In the years they’d been friends, Ciaran had never let him down - and he never would.
Bethany and Comgall’s mother appeared on the path. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even seen them leave the gate. Matthew trailed behind, seemingly lost in his own little world. Comgall’s mother gestured at something with a grand wave of her hand, and Comgall smiled. His mother was a wonderful sailor, like the rest of her family, but he suspected that her nerves had got the better of her and she was talking complete nonsense. That tended to happen when she was anxious; she really wasn’t as stern and cold as she appeared.
He took another deep breath as the two women walked closer. It still wasn’t too late to change his mind. He could still do the sensible thing and marry a foreign princess, to make an alliance that would strengthen Dal Riada.
But that was nonsense. There was no better choice than Bethany. She was strong and tough, a woman who had survived everything that life threw at her. She would protect him like he would protect her.
Comgall took a step towards her, emerging from the shadow of the ship. Bethany gasped, then relaxed a little and smiled at him. He smiled in return.
“Would you like to come aboard?” he asked, gesturing at the ship behind him. “I’d love to show you my new vessel. It’s a little better than the last one you tried to borrow.”
Bethany laughed.
“Very well,” she said. “Show me around.”
Comgall gestured at his men to lower the plank, and he helped Bethany aboard.
It was a low, long galley, inspired by the old Roman ships. It might not do well on the open seas, but it would be perfect for sailing between the islands and inlets of Dal Riada. As Comgall had expected - as he had hoped - Bethany was impressed by the small but luxurious cabin. He’d decorated it with all the fanciest imported goods that Dunadd could offer - gold-embroidered purple cloth, crystal wine glasses, an ivory chess set. Even a small Bible, bound in leather and gold. Comgall had spent a fortune on this ship and everything on it. Some of the items had originally come from as far away as Byzantium in the east. For the first time, Comgall was truly grateful for the Dublin merchants who traded their goods this far north.
Behind Bethany, the deck of the ship had filled up as more people followed them aboard. The ship was packed almost to full capacity now, with even more people watching from the shore. The people of Dunadd had come to care for Bethany, and they all wanted to see this moment. Comgall spotted Finola in the crowd. When she winked at him, he smiled back, relieved to have her blessing.
Then he turned to Bethany, whose eyes had widened as she took in the crowd. He grasped her hands and pulled her towards him. She shifted uneasily on the gently rocking deck, but she didn’t pull away.
“Bethany,” he said. “Maybe I’ll never truly understand who you are, or where you come from, but I love you all the same. Will you marry me?”
She gaped at him.
Panic truly gripped him.
“I had this ship built for you,” he said, trying not to babble. “It will be a wedding present for you. Along with men to sail it, of course. It will always be ready for you, so that you can sail wherever you want to go. I never want you to feel trapped with me.”
Bethany was still staring.
“ My ship?” she asked breathlessly.
Comgall nodded.
“I called her Freedom,” he said. “I hope you like her.”
Bethany stared at him for a second longer. Then she burst into tears.
Comgall’s heart almost stopped. Was she saying no?
She reached one hand up to caress his cheek.
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
The entire crowd erupted in cheers. The ship’s deck shuddered as people stamped and whooped.
Ciaran handed over the arm ring, and Comgall offered it to Bethany. With visibly trembling fingers, she slipped it onto her arm, then stared up at Comgall.
“I love you,” she whispered.
His heart swelled as he felt a rush of love like he’d never felt before. Right there, in front of his family and friends, in front of all of Dunadd, he kissed her with a passion that set his head spinning and his heart pounding. The cheers only got louder.