The Traitor's Daughter (Complete)

Part 40-A Talking-to

 The sun was out in all its glory, washing the sky with its golden glow, but Luke's bedchamber still lay in darkness. Nan stood outside his door, gathering the courage to enter. He always walked around these days like a bear with a sore head, so she was wary of incensing him further.

Squaring her shoulders and bracing herself for the confrontation, Nan knocked perfunctorily once on the door and then without waiting for his leave, walked inside the room. Instantly, the stench of stale liquor hit her nostrils. Holding her breath at the noxious smell, she went over to the windows and pushed aside the heavy velvet drapes, throwing them open to let the fresh breeze waft in.

Luke was still in bed, lying in a drunken stupor most probably, for the half-empty bottle of bourbon stood by his bed. Nan went to the bed, bent over him, calling his name. When she got no response, she shook him till he groaned and opened his eyes.

"Get up, Luke. It is quite late, my boy."

"Go away. Leave me alone," he mumbled, irritated and angry, then pulled the cover over his face as the sunlight shone over him.

Nan hid a small smile. The gesture reminded her of his childhood, bringing a flood of warm, sweet memories with it. She wasn't going to leave him so easily. She bent over him once again, shaking him with renewed vigor.

Luke's hand shot out from under the covers, pushing her away. Nan lost her footing and stumbled back, crying out in fear. The sound brought Luke out of his daze, and he sprang to his feet, saw Nan falling backward, and caught her just in time.

"I'm so sorry, Nan," he exclaimed. "I never meant to do that."

With a hand to her pounding heart, Nan sank down on the couch. She noted the remorse in his gaze, as he sat down beside her, put his arms around her shoulders, and hugged her.

"Apology accepted, boy, but remember, I'm no longer young."

He nodded, cursing himself for his reaction. He should have been more careful, but then, he had hardly been in his senses.

"Now, tell me, why you're here?" he asked, sobering up.

"Just look at yourself in the mirror, boy. You barely look alive."

"I'm barely living, Nan."

"I know, that's why I want you to bathe and dress up, then come to the table for some of your favorite dishes I've rustled up for you."

"I'm not hungry," he grumbled, making a face.

"You will be, by the time you look human again," Nan said firmly, rising and striding to the door. "I'll expect you within the hour, son."

Defeated, Luke rose unwillingly to call for hot water for a bath.

Luke eyed the laden table with some misgivings. Nan had gone the whole hog, setting up a full table with a hearty soup, roast lamb and trimmings, bread, fresh trout, cheese, pudding, and luscious fruits. There was wine and milk to wash down the meal. Luke sat down with some reservations, but the delicious aroma tickling his nostrils, awakened his appetite.

Nan stood by his side, directing the maids to fill his plate from time to time, as he pecked at the food, tasting some of this and some of that. Once he had been served to her satisfaction, she sat down facing him, purpose shining in her eyes.

"Whatever happened, Luke, wasn't right, my son," she remarked softly. "It shouldn't have happened that way."

"What do you mean, Nan? Say it clearly."

"You know very well what I mean. Don't act as if you don't understand me, my boy."

Luke just made a face and continued eating.

"Have you tried to find Zena?"

"Why should I?" he grumbled.

"I thought you missed her. Look what you have made of yourself in these months. You're hardly ever in your senses and Zorbia is in a bad shape."

"I haven't been well..." he lied.

"Don't give me that, boy. Nothing wrong with you that a good talking to wouldn't put right. Just throw away that bottle of bourbon, and you'll be fine," Nan chided.

He glared at her.

"Listen to me, son. Search for that girl and bring her back. You will see how good she would be for you."

"Let me think, Nan," he conceded. How could he forget that however he might miss her, she was, at the end of the day, Martin's daughter?

"It is so good to see you, sire," Dave remarked.

They were sitting in the study, smoking pipes. Luke had come out of his chamber after a long time. He was gaunt and pale but sober for once.

"Hmm....Nan forced me to come to the table for a meal."

"It's for the best, sire. I needed to discuss some state affairs with you."

"Is it absolutely necessary, Dave? You could always speak to Wilfred."

"I could, your majesty, but it would be better if it was brought to your notice first," Dave replied.

"Hmm....speak on..." he said reluctantly.

Slowly, choosing his words carefully, Dave narrated all that he had told Nan about Zorbia.

Luke scowled, scratching his clean-shaven chin.

"You mean to say that we're sitting on a powder keg and the least spark could start a revolt?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"That simply means that Wilfred has not been doing his work right. This should have been brought to my notice earlier." If Wilfred had failed to inform him of the goings-on, it meant that something was wrong. Had he erred by trusting Wilfred blindly? Could he really have been wrong about Martin being a traitor, all along?