The Traitor's Daughter (Complete)

Part 37-Respite

 The village of Northdale, lay nestled among hills, and wide meadows. A stream of crystal clear water flowed through it, nurturing its residents, whose livelihood mostly depended on sheep rearing and dairy farming. Small farmhouses lay scattered over the countryside, their red brick and wooden structures beautiful in their simplicity.

Victor picked up a bale of hay and placed it before the cows. He was wearing workaday clothes, more suited to a farmer than a knight of the realm. Jane who had just entered with a wooden pale to milk the cows, smiled as she saw him sweating it out on the farm.

"You look like a farmer, my lord," she teased him.

"What do you mean that I look like one? Let me tell you, my lady, that I'm a farmer now," he said with mock disapproval.

Jane put the bucket down and then stood with her hands on her hips.

"Well, my lord, I have never seen such a handsome one for sure," she said, eyeing his lithe figure in narrow pantaloons, and a leather vest.

"Do you like what you see, my lady?" Victor asked with a mocking smile, coming to gather her in his arms and dipping his head down to kiss her lips.

Jane met him halfway, responding with an abandon that was new to her, that she had never dreamed possible. In the few years of her marriage, she had never felt like this for her ailing husband.

Victor pulled her down on the hay. She protested, just for the sake of it, but still helped him take her dress off. They lay there, in the hay, savoring each other's nearness and bodies, their lovemaking slow yet intense. Later, Jane raised herself on her elbows, looking down at the glowing and satisfied face of her brand-new husband. She really loved this man to distraction.

About two months ago, Victor had returned with his daughter one night. She had rushed into his arms when she saw him, hugging him to her heart. She had silently sent a prayer to the Lord for returning him safely to her. She had almost given up hope of ever seeing him again.

Jane had welcomed Zena into the fold. The girl had been in a bad shape, broken in body and spirit. Victor had wished them to get close, but Jane, in her innate wisdom, knew that Zena needed space. She needed to be left alone for some time, to pull herself together and come out of her grief.

Victor had told her everything that had happened in the city and especially at the palace that last day. Jane had covered his hand with hers, comforting him.

"Whatever happened to you was definitely wrong, but I'm still thankful that both Zena and you are safe. You shouldn't mourn the loss of your estates. We have this small farm here, and we can very well live off it comfortably," she reassured him.

"You're wise and generous, Jane, and I'm grateful to you for all that you have done for me and my daughter," Victor had said.

"Only grateful?" Jane had asked, smiling, but feeling a bit disappointed.

"Had I felt only grateful, I wouldn't be dying to do this, Jane," he said, taking her lips in a heartfelt kiss. "I love you, Jane. I never thought it possible to love another woman after I lost my wife. But, you have captured my heart, like no other woman has done. Marry me, Jane, be my wife...though I have nothing else to offer you except my love."

A week later, they had been married at the small chapel in the village. They had gazed into each other's eyes as they exchanged their vows and were united before God and man. Zena had come out of her room for once, her eyes moistening at the sight. The farm hands, old and weather-beaten Harry and the young and charming Jack had been their witnesses as they signed the church register.

Later, they celebrated with a small feast at the farm, with rustic dishes and ale.

"How far removed this world is from the cutthroat rivalry and politics of St. Helene. I feel like a different man here," Victor had commented, once they had retired to their chamber for the night.

"Do you feel like my husband?" Jane had teased him, pulling his head down to her own and nuzzling his lips.

"That I certainly do, milady," he said, picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

That had set the tone for the marriage. Jane was totally in love with her new husband and enjoyed their lovemaking to the fullest, something she had always found tiresome in her first marriage.

Now, every day they rose at the crack of dawn, to work tirelessly at the farm, tending to the animals and tilling the land. Though they knew that Victor would never again be the rich man he had once been, he was content with whatever they had.

Returning to the present, Jane shook her husband who was almost falling asleep in the warm hay.

"I didn't get the chance to tell you, but a letter's waiting for you in the front parlor."

"A letter?" Victor was alert now. Who could have written to him?

Hurriedly, they dressed up, returning to the house. Victor picked up the letter lying on the table and opened it, then let out a breath of relief.

When he had left the city two months earlier, he had written to Josef to let him know that he was alive and well. Josef had now written to him with news from the city.

Victor glanced through the letter, not really interested in whatever was happening in the city, but its contents caught his attention.

According to Josef, all was not well in the capital. The letter told a tale of oppression and hardships. The common man did not have it easy and nor did the nobility. Wilfred had become too powerful and Prince Lucas had become cruel. Josef found it hard to make a living in the city and lived in fear for his life.

"What are you reading, Father?" Zena asked him, entering the parlor with a cloth to polish the furniture.

"It is nothing, dear," he said, putting the letter away, not willing to show it to her. Any news from St. Helene was bound to upset her. It had been months now, but she hadn't told him how she came to be in the palace and in that bed. Zena had spent the first few weeks living like the walking dead, the shock and horror of the happenings of that last day, were too much for her.

On Jane's advice, he had left her alone, to deal with her grief in her own way. Of course, he was always there for her, and Zena knew that without being told.

"It's a letter, is it not?" she asked, extending her hand for it.

He had no option but to hand it to her.

Slowly, as if it contained a snake poised to strike, Zena opened the letter and read through it, seeing Luke's name for the first time in months.