The Traitor's Daughter (Complete)

Part 2-The Visitors at Night

 The bread left by Wilma had been a heaven-sent. The edge of the gnawing hunger that had plagued her had been blunted a little. Her eyes became heavy and she got up from the chair to pull out a straw mat, laying it on the hard stone floor. That was her bed now, the soft mattress to which she had been used to, gone for good.

She had just lain down, closing her eyes, when a commotion outside alerted her. The sound of stomping feet filled the night, with voices raised in a shout. Zena sat up with a quick movement, listening intently, holding her breath.

"She had gone this way, sir," someone shouted.

"Search the area. She couldn't have gone far," a booming voice commanded.

Zena sat, her heart pounding loud enough to drown out all other noises. They were searching for her. It was most probably, a sergeant with his troops.

She blew out the tallow candle burning in the room, then got up from the mat. Holding one corner of the rag which hung on the window, she pulled aside its corner, peering out into the darkness beyond. She could make out the darker shapes of about five or six men, searching in the alleyways.

It went on for the good part of an hour. They pounded on a few doors. Zena watched with bated breath, as a woman answered by opening the door.

"Have you seen the traitor's daughter here?" one of the soldiers asked.

"I don't know any traitors hereabout," the woman said sourly. "Go away. You have no business scaring us at this time of the night, by raising hell. We're all god-fearing folk here." With that, she banged the door shut in their faces.

The men looked for her for a few minutes more, then left, leaving a deafening silence behind them. Zena put a hand on her chest. It was still beating hard. She took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves, then sank down on the mat again.

She had escaped detection tonight, but she won't always be so lucky. Sooner or later, they would catch her and she shuddered to think what they would do to her then. Staying here meant sure death, for she would most likely, be hanged at the gallows.

Zena was too devastated for tears. Anyway, they were of no use. She had to think, and quickly. If only the Prince had allowed her to meet him. She had never seen him but she had heard much about him from her father. Her father had been full of admiration for him. He had praised him, saying he was a wise ruler, as well as benevolent and fair, but now, Zena doubted that very much.

Had he been all that, he would have at least given her a hearing, and not snatched her home from her without a trial. She had been punished for no fault of hers. Zena was sure that her father would never go against his country. He did not have a deceitful bone in his body. He couldn't have embezzled the state funds of the army, nor could he have betrayed his country. But he had been accused of cupidity and betrayal, and she had been branded as the traitor's daughter, cursed to live like an outlaw.

She knew that it was just a matter of time before they came for her. She had nowhere to hide in the city. In fact, she had nowhere to hide. Sooner or later, she would be caught, but she wasn't one to go down whimpering. If she had to die, at least, she could make an effort to find her father and clear his name. Although, how she would do it, she had no idea. One thing was clear, though. She could achieve nothing by hiding here.

With that firm determination in her heart, she rose purposefully. There wasn't much to pack. She hardly had any possessions left. Wilma had brought a dress that belonged to her granddaughter. She was wearing the only other one she had. So, she wrapped the dress in a sheet, along with the rest of the bread and cheese, and pocketed the few coins lying on the table. They were copper, not gold or silver, but at least, they should help her in traveling out of the city.

Her packing completed, she lay down on the mat again, sleepless and apprehensive. It was sure that the soldiers wouldn't come for her again that night, but they were everywhere. She would find them at the borders of the city and even in the country. She would have to use all her ingenuity to avoid detection.

Sometime during the night, Zena fell into a troubled sleep, curled into a ball due to the freezing cold. The blanket she had borrowed from Wilma was thin and worn. She woke up before the first light of dawn. Quickly, she donned her bonnet and the shoes, thankful for them. At least, they were sturdy and practical, not like the delicate shoes she always preferred. But then again, she wasn't going dancing. Before walking out of the door, she threw the blanket over her shoulders, pulling the edges together. At least, it would be some protection against the cold. Then, Zena picked up the bundle containing her things, cast an eye around the room which had been her home for a little more than a month, then stepped out into the chilly morning.

An icy wind blew and fallen leaves from the trees swirled around her feet. Few people were out so early, and she hurried her steps. She must be on her way before the city woke up.

The main street was deserted. Zena stood at the intersection, watching this way and that, hoping to catch sight of a carriage or cart. After waiting for a few minutes, she saw a carriage coming down the street. Desperately, she waved at it to stop, and at last, it did, some paces further than where she stood.

She ran up to it. The coachman, an old man with a pockmarked face, leaned toward her.

"What do you want, lass?"

"Which way are you headed, sir?"

"I'm headed to my bed after a hard night's work, lassie. Have traveled the whole night from the High Ridge Hills."

"Please, can you not drop me out of the city?" Zena pleaded, shivering with the cold. The interior of the carriage appeared so inviting and warm in comparison.

"Do you think I'm mad to drive all the way out of the city, now, with my bed calling to me?"

"Please, sir, my old Granny be ill and on her deathbed. I'm the only one she has. I must reach her today," Zena made up fast, lest the coachman drives away, leaving her on the road, which was now filling up with vendors and people out on their business.

The old man looked at her keenly, seeing the pinched face and the lips turning almost blue with the chill. A tinge of pity crept through him, and he scratched his chin, then turned to her.

"Get in, girl. I'm a fool for doing this, but you remind me of my daughter whom I lost last year to the plague."

Zena felt a wave of relief wash over her.

"Thank you....thank you, sir," she said, fervently, climbing inside the carriage and closing the gate shut after her.

"Where to, lass?"

"Blackwood Forest."

"That's a long way away, but I'll get you there. Sit tight, my child."