Page 10 of Time of the King (Stones of Scotland #2)

I t was possible that Dubnus had no evidence at all. But it was not a risk Bethany was willing to take. These people were notoriously wild warriors, Christian or not. Who knew how they would treat an impostor princess? She suspected it would be violent, but she had no intention of finding out. She would escape Dunadd - now. She would not stay here and risk discovery.

With her few possessions packed into a bag, Bethany took Matthew’s hand and crept out into the night. She had avoided dinner in the hall, pleading a headache, and no one had questioned her. Perhaps a headache was reasonable after her unpleasant confrontation with Dubnus. Regardless, she had remained undisturbed all evening.

Darkness had fallen while she waited, and Dunadd was now thick with shadows. Bethany stuck to the darkest areas and crept her way across the hill fort, aiming for the harbour gate. She jumped at every noise and movement, but no one seemed to notice a woman and child in the darkness. As they reached the gate, however, Bethany paused. Biting her lip, she considered the best approach. There were guards everywhere - there was no way she could sneak through unnoticed. But perhaps stealth was not the best option here.

Taking a deep breath, she hoisted Matthew onto her hip. He was too heavy for this, really, but it might help him stay quiet. Gathering all her courage, she strode out through the gate as if she had every right to be there. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guards watching her, but no one made any move to stop her. At last, she blended in. She fought to keep a victorious smile off her face as she walked the last stretch of road down to the harbour. No doubt the guards were paid to look for intruders, not escapees.

The next challenge would be finding a boat. It would be helpful if Bethany knew anything at all about sailing. She strode along the edge of the harbour, hoping that her walk looked purposeful. All these boats were far too large. And there it was. An old single-sailed boat, just about small enough for a single woman to sail. Even in the faint light of the moon, Bethany could see the craft looked a little worn and tattered. An old fishing boat, perhaps. It did not seem the sturdiest of vessels, but a quick glance around told her it was the best she would find. Besides, the two of them were not going far. It hardly needed to be seaworthy.

She helped Matthew clamber into the boat first.

“I don’t like this, Mummy,” he said anxiously, looking up at her with wide blue eyes.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Bethany assured him. “A fun little boat trip!”

He seemed unconvinced, but she had no more time to soothe him. As she carefully stepped into the boat herself, she saw lights flashing up by the gate. Were they coming down the road already? Panicked, she fumbled with the rope that held the boat in place. Was she supposed to keep this rope? Or throw it away? She couldn’t remember, and now she could hear faint cries on the wind: Eithne . They were coming for her. It should have been hours before anyone noticed her missing.

She shoved the boat away from the jetty with all the force she could muster. The rough wood burnt her palms, but she couldn’t stop to think about it. The wind had already caught the sail, sending them bobbing across the water. But they were headed straight out to sea - not at all the way Bethany wanted to go. They needed a safe, sheltered journey along the coast.

It must be possible to steer a boat, surely? There was some contraption at the rear - a rudder? Maybe boat steering hadn’t been invented yet, but it looked like her best bet. Eithne grasped it and tugged hard. The boat swung to the side. At that same moment, a wave hit them hard, and the boat lurched sideways. Matthew screamed, grabbing at Bethany’s hand. They both scrabbled for purchase as the little craft almost capsized.

Bethany tried again, this time with more care, and the boat righted itself. She was soaking wet from the wave spray, and her teeth began to chatter. Matthew must be feeling even worse. Oh God, what a terrible idea this had been. Worse of all, in the darkness she could barely tell which way was which. At least the lights on the shore were getting smaller and smaller as she left them behind. As best she could tell, they were now heading south. That was fine. Perhaps England would be a good place for them. Bethany struggled to recall everything she knew about Anglo-Saxon England.

Then a sudden wave smashed against them. Lost in thought, Bethany was unprepared. Matthew flew past her with a scream. He hit the ship’s railing and hung there for a second while Bethany fought for her balance. As she reached for him, he fell. She lunged forwards, clasping at where his hand had been. The sea was black and chaotic, and she could not see him. She called out his name and heard a faint answering cry.

Sobbing through the sea spray already on her face, Bethany scrambled to get out of her dress. The heavy wool would only weigh her down. Clad only in her thin under-dress, she prepared to dive, still screaming out Matthew’s name. Then a head broke the surface just feet away from her boat. Not Matthew, but someone larger.

“Wait there,” a man’s voice called, faint over the noise of the wind and the waves. Bethany froze to the spot, her heart in her mouth as she clung to the mast and tried to stay upright.

After the longest moment of her life, the man reappeared above the waves - with Matthew in his arms. Bethany almost screamed at the sight. The man swam the final distance and hoisted Matthew up onto the boat. The little craft was still rocking wildly in the waves, but Bethany managed to pull her son onto the bench. He was coughing and shaking, but he was conscious and alive. Bethany could no longer tell what was salt water and what was her own tears.

The boat lurched sharply as the man clambered over the railing and dropped down to stand at the rear of the boat. Bethany met his eyes and gasped. It was Comgall, soaking wet and wearing only a shirt and leggings. He glared at her as he reached for ropes and the steering oar, his capable hands turning the boat back towards the shore.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his eyes furious. “You could both have been killed out here! ”

So, the worst had happened. She’d been caught. But this game was not over yet.

Bethany raised her chin proudly.

“I was going back to my family in Ireland,” she said. “I am clearly not wanted here.”

“You idiot!” Comgall shouted. Then he visibly pulled himself back under control, shaking the excess water from his hair. “Apologies for my rudeness, my lady,” he said, his usual cool politeness back in place. “And apologies that you felt such an extreme reaction was necessary.”

Comgall had furled the sail while he spoke. Some kind of current now caught at the boat, pulling them fast back to Dunadd. Bethany watched in awe as the coastline whipped past. Had she really believed this would be as simple as sailing in a straight line south? With all the islands and inlets here, the currents must be complex indeed. Comgall was right. She was an idiot. How had she ever thought she could escape by sea? She knew next to nothing about boats.

By the time they were close enough to make out Dunadd’s gates and the men waiting on the beach, cold had set in. Bethany wrapped herself around Matthew, both of them shivering so hard that their teeth chattered. Comgall looked over at them, and something in his gaze softened. He secured the rope he was holding and came over to sit beside Bethany, wrapping his arm around both of them. Bethany relaxed into his warmth.

“I really am sorry,” he said into her ear, softly enough that Matthew would not hear. “Dubnus will never speak to you like that again. I swear it.”

His words warmed something deep within Bethany. She looked up at him in mute thanks .

And then, so quickly that she might almost have imagined it, Comgall kissed her, his breath wonderfully warm on her lips.

Then shouts reached them across the water. A group of men came wading through the waist-deep waves, reaching for the boat. Comgall stood up, moving away from Bethany and Matthew. She felt the loss of his warmth as if a blanket had been snatched away. Back to polite coldness once again.

Under Comgall’s command, the battered little vessel was towed all the way to the small jetty. Bethany and Matthew were helped out, still shivering. Comgall strode on ahead of them. Escorted by a cluster of warriors, Bethany clutched Matthew’s hand and once again began the walk up to Dunadd.