Epilogue
One year later…
“Galinn, run and find your stepmother and bid her come to the harbour. Tell her that her brothers have returned.” Mathios watched his son scamper off in search of Merewyn, then he turned to shield his eyes from the sun as he watched the approach of the knarr bearing his Celtic brothers and their enigmatic Viking partner.
With a hull wider, deeper, and shorter than his own dragon ships that were constructed for war, the knarr built by Ivar and Ywan to Kristin’s exact specifications was more suited to exploration and the carrying of cargo. It required a crew of just seven or eight and yet could manage lengthy voyages. On this the new vessel’s maiden voyage, they had travelled first to England and then it had been their intention to go on to continental Europe in search of new trade routes. Mathios wondered what they would bring back with them and he looked forward to the profit he—or rather Merewyn—might make.
His wife’s footsteps could be heard approaching. He went to meet her, and to take the squirming bundle from her arms.
“Was Rowena not about that you had to carry our daughter all the way down here?” He drew back the fine wool blanket to reveal the tiny face he loved with a ferocity he had not believed possible. Perhaps it was because he was away when they were born and thus missed their earliest weeks, but Mathios did not recall being overwhelmed by such intensity of love for his boys, though he adored them now. A man should not have favourites among his children, he knew, but surely such decrees did not take account of this little scrap of pure sweetness who now gurgled up at him. He lifted her and kissed her smooth forehead.
“Come, little Ronat. You are to meet your uncles, provided of course that Kristin has not become truly exasperated and tossed the pair of them overboard.”
“She would not do that,” insisted Merewyn. “She likes them.”
“Are you sure?” During the months that all three had spent in Agnartved whilst their boat was being built, Mathios had seen little evidence to support such an assertion. “Kristin and Nyle might manage a passing tolerance for each other, but Bowdyn…”
“She likes them,” repeated his determined little wife. “I know she does, deep down.”
Mathios decided to let it go. Perhaps the enforced proximity aboard the knarr would have necessitated a softening of attitudes. Time would tell. “I wonder what cargo they are bringing.”
“Kristin told me she was seeking silver, or perhaps glass. She is also interested in wines and spices. I hope for some silk.”
“We shall know soon enough. Come, we can wait for them on the jetty.”
Mathios cradled baby Ronat in one arm, named for her Celtic grandmother, and the other arm rested across his wife’s shoulders. His infant daughter had come squalling into the world four and a half months previously and he had been smitten from the first moment he laid eyes upon her. He hoped for more children, though he would never say so. Ronat was healthy and thriving, and Merewyn had encountered no real difficulties either. They could not rely on it always being so. Childbirth was an uncertain undertaking for women, and he had already lost one wife to the capricious fates of procreation. He could not bear the thought of losing Merewyn in similar fashion but ultimately such matters were in the laps of the gods.
“I wonder if they managed to sell the farm. Or failing that, find a tenant.”
He glanced down at her. “Will you miss it, if it is no longer yours?”
“It was never mine, not really.”
“For a while I think it was.”
“That was not a happy time. I would not wish to go back there now. If my brothers had decided to return, to grow crops there and make it our family home again, then perhaps…”
“I was as astonished as you when they opted to throw in their lot with Kristin. I was even more amazed that she agreed to it.”
“It is as I said, she likes them. If they have been successful at making any wealth from the sale of our land, they will be able to build more ships, bigger ships perhaps, travel further. I know that is what they want, and Kristin too. They are well matched.”
Not the description he might have applied, but Mathios did not comment. He heaved a relieved sigh as the knarr drew close enough for him to make out the features of those on board. Nyle, Bowdyn, and Kristin stood together at the prow of the vessel, the tall Viking woman between the two even taller Celts. They made a fine sight, and if he was not mistaken he could perhaps detect an intimacy about them. It was almost as though…
No, what a ridiculous notion! He dismissed it from his mind.
“They love each other.”
What? Mathios locked eyes with his diminutive wife, who did not back down. When did she ever? “What do you mean?”
“They love each other. As we do, except, there are three of them.”
“You do not mean…? It is impossible. How might they…?”
He fell silent when his wife arched one elegant mahogany-hued brow at him. Why not? He was thinking exactly the same thing.
“We need not speak of it, but it is there.” She leaned up on the tips of her toes to kiss his mouth. “You are staring, my husband. Have I grown a wart on the side of my nose?”
“You Celts are odd beings. Have I not always said it was so?”
“And you Vikings are much too sure of yourselves by far. Too inclined to believe that you are in charge and the world is yours for the taking.” She smiled up at him, her delight and anticipation shining in her eyes. “Now, let me take Ronat whilst you assist the men in mooring the knarr. I look forward to learning how this first voyage has gone.”
The End