Six

 

Her father was jubilant about getting three new queens for the hives, and Helga had made a particularly fine stew with dumplings before heading back to the village for the evening, so Molina did her best to forget the strange encounter with Lord Bachmeier's new farmhand. For a moment there, she'd thought Bachmeier had sent the boy to kidnap her and force her to become his bride.

But Bachmeier wouldn't do such a thing, surely. He'd asked, she'd refused, and he'd insisted she would regret her decision when he chose another. He'd said it dismissively, as though he cared little what she regretted, for he would have shifted his affections elsewhere, if indeed they existed at all,.

"The village boys still fear you. What in heaven's name did you do to scare them so?" Father asked.

Molina considered her response carefully before she said, "Oh, they think I'm a witch, because I know how the waterwheels work." Actually, it was more likely they blamed her for that Easter festival when she and a few of the other people her age had drunk too much wine and decided to celebrate some ancient pagan fertility festival that Rikard insisted was celebrated at the same time. They'd all paired up, taken their clothes off, and proceeded to see how fertile they were. Two of the girls fell pregnant that night, but when Rikard entered Molina, she'd cried out so loudly at the pain that she'd killed his desire, too. He claimed she'd cursed his manhood with her barrenness, and as she was the only girl not carrying a child, the others believed it.

But she had no intention of telling her father that.

"Bachmeier won't wait forever. A lord like him will lose patience eventually, and decide to take what he wants. You should choose a husband, and marry the man soon. Then Bachmeier will turn his eyes elsewhere."

Molina shrugged. "None of the village men are a better choice than Bachmeier, for if they were, I'd be married already. My passion is for waterwheels and what we can make with them. Machines, not men."

"That's what your mother said, too. Did you know the first time I kissed her, it was behind the mill? And one day when we went swimming in the millpond together..."

"I know, I know, you've already told me," Molina interrupted, not wanting to hear about the first time her parents got naked together. It reminded her too much of the disturbing events of the afternoon. "Does Bachmeier have some new workers up at his farm?"

Father frowned. "Not that I've heard. Plenty of boys here in the village who would jump at the job, for Bachmeier offers married quarters for the men who work for him. Better than sharing a house here in the village with several generations of your family, or so they say." He brightened. "But the king's tithe collectors are on their way. They've been to the other provinces and we're bound to be next. If you have your heart set on a man not from the village, one of the king's men might be your best chance. Especially if he takes you back to the capital. Bachmeier might not listen when we tell him what our waterwheels can do, but I'm sure the king will care."

"I'm not seducing one of the king's soldiers," Molina objected.

"How about one of the king's knights? Or a nobleman from court? The tithe is the most valuable thing in the countryside, and he sends his best knights to protect it. Have you ever seen a man in armour?"

Molina considered for a moment. "No, but I can't see how armour is meant to be attractive. I mean, you cannot see his face under the helmet, and what if you cut yourself on the metal trying to undress him? Marrying a knight sounds like a good way to get hurt."

Father shook his head. "Once again with all the thinking. Your mind never stops. Your mother would be so proud, but she'd be telling you even louder that village life will never be enough for you."

"It was for her!"

Father smiled sadly. "She stayed for me, and because she got to build the waterwheels the way she wanted them. Without a new project or someone to love, she would never have stayed. The waterwheels are as good as they will get, yet I know you have ideas almost daily. Tell me what you thought of today."

Father knew her too well. Molina relented. "Today I got sick of spinning, so I designed a machine that holds the spindle and the distaff and turns the spindle with a wheel. You could attach it with gears to a waterwheel so it spins at just the right rate..."

Father laughed. "Show me."

Molina felt in her bodice, where she usually stashed her sketches, but found none. "Damn. I must have left it up by the pools. A man came and distracted me, so I came home earlier than I intended. I'll go up there tomorrow to retrieve it so I can show you. I really think this will work. I would have to build it and try it first, but I think this can easily halve the time I spend spinning. It all depends on the speed."

"If Bachmeier agreed to let you try half the things you think up, no one in the village would have to work at all. He's a fool for not listening to you. His only redeeming feature is his good taste in wine. And women, for he did choose you over the other girls in the village." Father poured himself a cup of wine and leaned back on his bench, until his head touched the wall. "If you were younger, I'd tell you one of those fairytales, where a knight in shining armour comes to woo the lovely young miller's daughter, carrying her away on his horse. For all that I wish there were such a man for you, even I doubt it in this day and age. All the modern knights seek fame and glory in tourneys or crusades, not love. Yet I wish it for you with all my heart."

Molina forced herself to smile, for her father's words reminded her of the loneliness that made her heart ache at night. "I have you and your love, Father. I am lucky to have the love of one wonderful man. To have the love of two...seems to be asking too much of fate. Perhaps we should not tempt her so."

Father leaned forward. "Or perhaps that is exactly what we must do. Tempt fate, so that she might change something to make your life more interesting. Maybe not a knight. Maybe a man with rank equal to Bachmeier, who will treat you as you deserve, and listen to your schemes. You know, the ancient goddess of fate here was a spinner. Your new spinning wheel might be just the thing to get her attention. Tomorrow, you must find that sketch, and tell me everything, for we will build it together."

Molina's heart lifted. It had been a long time since her father helped her with a project. "Thank you, Father. That sounds perfect."