Pale winter sunshine was filling the living room when Victor sat up on the couch. He had fallen into a fitful sleep the previous night, troubled by the dull ache in his arm where the powder had grazed him. Thankfully the blood had stopped and the only thing he would have to be wary about would be an infection setting in.
He got up, stretched himself, then stood in the middle of the room, debating what to do. Where was Jane? He could hear some sound of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. He peered inside, clearing his throat.
"You must be the visitor who came last night..." said a middle-aged woman, coming out of the kitchen door with a plate of eggs and tomatoes.
"Yes...yes." Victor watched her enter the dining room and place the plate on the table. She waddled over to the kitchen again and he followed her.
The back door was pushed open and Jane walked in carrying a wooden pale full of milk. She placed it on the counter, then turned to him.
"Good morning, Victor. You met Daisy last night," she said with a smile indicating the pale.
He recalled the cow who had mooed and started the whole ruckus, and nodded.
"Come, breakfast is ready," Jane said, leading him out to the table.
They sat down to hot baked loaf, freshly churned butter, a jug of milk, and a plate of eggs and tomatoes.
"Do you grow everything yourself?" he asked her.
"Yes. Whatever you see here, has come from our farm."
Victor said a silent prayer for the wholesome fare he had been given after months. The life of a fugitive wasn't easy. He had been on the run, for what seemed like ages. If only he could meet the prince and convince him of his innocence, but that was a distant dream with Wilfred's men after his life.
They were halfway through the meal when there was a loud pounding on the front door.
"His Majesty's men here, open up," they shouted impatiently.
Victor paled, and his spoon dropped from his hand. Jane took one look at his face and sprang into action.
"Come," she whispered to him. He followed her to the back door and once again into the barn. She pointed to the loft and he climbed the ladder, hiding behind the bales of hay, while she padlocked the door from outside.
Victor lay on the loft, holding his breath, while Jane went to the front door and pushed it open.
"A body can't even milk the cow in peace around here," she told the soldiers, making a disgruntled face.
"Sorry, missus, but we're looking for a traitor who is on the loose," one of them said, trying to steal a look into the living room behind her.
Victor heard the loud voice of the man, his heart pounding. What would Jane say to them? Would she give him away? He couldn't blame her if she did. He should have come clean to her last night.
"Well, I haven't seen any around here. We're his majesty's loyal subjects, and don't harbor traitors."
"He's said to have come this way," the man persisted.
"I'll be on the lookout then. What is the world coming to, that honest folk have to live in fear of such outlaws," Jane said, her voice full of shock.
The men nodded, before returning the way they had come. Jane waited for some more time before rushing to the barn and unlocking the door.
"You can come down now. They're gone."
Victor descended the ladder, his heart still racing sickeningly.
He cast a glance at her shuttered face.
"Thank you, for saving me," he whispered.
"Don't you think that you owe me an explanation?" she asked, tight-faced.
He pulled in a deep breath, then sat down on a bundle of hay. She sank down on the wooden floor beside him.
"It's true that I'm on the run from his majesty's men, but believe me, I'm not a traitor," he bit out, his fists clenching in aggression.
"Then why did you run?"
"I was falsely accused of things which I never did, nor thought of doing."
"Who would do that?"
"There are men in the royal court. Powerful men, who are ambitious and unscrupulous. They aren't above plotting against others to achieve their own ends."
She nodded.
"Then you're no ordinary soldier, I believe."
"Victor Martin, a nobleman whose lands and estates have been confiscated. If only I could see his majesty and convince him of my innocence."
Jane placed her hand on his, squeezing to comfort him.
"I suspected as much. No ordinary soldier has such a bearing," she smiled. "Well, you can stay here for as long as you like, and plan your next step."
"You're very generous," Victor picked up her hand and kissed it, in the true style of a gentleman.
He had to plan ahead, but what worried him was the thought of his daughter. His sources, the few he had in the city, had sent word that Zena had disappeared. Where was she? Was she alive, or God forbid, something had happened to her? No one connected to him was safe. He could only pray that she would be found soon, and not fall into wrong hands. They were sure to hang her too.
Now, the only avenue left for him was to see Prince Lucas. Would he listen to him, or had Wilfred and his gang poisoned his mind?