Nine

 

Find the wealth the barons are hiding in the countryside, his father had told him. Find it, and bring it home. The words became a litany in Lubos' head as he headed back to the mill. Bachmeier wasn't so much hiding Molina as keeping her to himself, and squandering her talents besides. If she truly could create things that would make the kingdom wealthy...make women's work go faster...

Just as men looked up to their king, a kingdom's women looked to their queen. They would do their best to fashion clothing like hers, name their children after her, attend royal events just to get a glimpse of her, and maybe receive her blessing. Even his mother, who'd done little more than smile wanly as the constant pregnancies and miscarriages took their toll. Yet a wave from her could make a crowd erupt in louder cheers than those for his father.

He'd heard tales of the legendary Queen Margareta of Aros, who ruled beside her husband as his equal. The stories said men willingly laid down their lives for her, for it was an honour to serve such a lady. It was even said that she was responsible for turning her kingdom into a great sea empire, though that could be because her dowry came with Beacon Isle. But even Lubos had heard of Beacon Isle, an independent island that was the greatest trading port in the northern sea, occupied by people who called no man king. But they answered to Queen Margareta.

If Lubos returned to his father with a wife as formidable as Queen Margareta, a woman who could hold her own against her liege lord and make the kingdom prosper again...

Well, his father would be pleased. He'd finally leave off trying to make Lubos marry some soft, insipid girl, and Lubos would be free to live the life he'd dreamed about. Well, last night he'd dreamed about it, or more specifically, her.

Dreamed of helping Molina out of that thin shift, so he could see her in all her naked glory, before making love to her as a queen deserved.

Please, let the miller be so old and decrepit he was ready to knock on death's door, Lubos prayed as strode up the path to the mill. What had the man's name been? Rademaker. A good man. Lubos prayed the man would soon receive his reward in heaven...

"You must be one of the king's tax collectors, come to inspect the mill. I had begun to think Lord Bachmeier had forgotten to mention it to you."

Lubos looked up to meet the eyes of a man who looked younger than Bachmeier, or even his own father. A man whose fine linen clothes marked him as more than a farmhand.

The man held out his hand. "I'm Rademaker, and I welcome you to our town. We have a particularly fine watermill, thanks to my very talented wife."

Lubos' heart sank right down into his boots. Rademaker was a man in his prime, perhaps forty years old at most, with only a slight greying at his temples to show he was no longer a young man. Yet Lubos summoned a smile, for it was not Rademaker's fault he was the luckiest man in the world. "I would love to see the watermill. I came yesterday, but..."

"I was not at home. The wild bees were swarming, and I wanted to catch some new queens for our hive. They produce better honey up here on the slopes than in the lowlands of the valley, and Lord Bachmeier is particularly partial to it. Before the floods, he was often willing to trade a flagon of his best imported wine for my honey, but now that my hives were the only ones to survive the floods, I must increase production to meet the demand. And maybe even the price, too." Rademaker winked. "I fancy my honey is never part of the tithe Lord Bachmeier sends to the king, but I will happily make a gift of it for His Majesty. If you promise to make sure the king receives it, I shall give you some for yourself, too."

Lubos mumbled his thanks, forcing a smile at the thought of such sticky sweetness. He was not overly fond of honey, preferring sharp spices to season his food. Nor was he fond of wine, for the alcohol dulled his wits. It did put him in mind of the gift he'd brought, though. "I brought a gift for you, too, Master Rademaker. Lord Bachmeier's best imported wine, I believe." He held out the flagon.

Rademaker laughed. "Ah, I see why the king sent out a clever man like you. You have come to uncover all the lords' secrets. I will share ours freely, for it was my wife's dearest wish to see such watermills all over the country. I hope you will take a good account of us back to the king."

How was Lubos to tell the man it was his wife he wanted to take to the king, not tales of watermills? Lubos forced down his raging jealousy and said, "Show me, and we shall see."

Rademaker ambled up the hill with Lubos, pointing out the pools that fed the millstream, and detailing the output of the mill itself. Lubos learned that the watermills did not just grind grain. They were used to process the flax that made the region's fine linen. Bachmeier had lied, or he did not know of it. Perhaps Molina had made the modifications to the mill without her lord's knowledge or permission. Lubos wouldn't put it past her.

Lubos looked over the waterwheels, turning swiftly in the current. All but one, that seemed more sluggish than the rest. "What's wrong with that one?" he asked.

Rademaker shrugged. "I don't know. It was fine yesterday, but something must have happened overnight to slow it down. Let's see, shall we?" He led the way up to the slow wheel. "What ails it?" he called.

A dark figure emerged from the other side of the wheel. Lubos' breath caught in his throat. Molina stood thigh deep in the water, her skirt kirtled up so as not to get wet. "There's something stuck in it," she said, peering between the paddles. "I can almost...there!" She dived through the paddles, into the middle of the spinning waterwheel.

"No!" Lubos shouted, leaping into the water to save her. He was soaked in an instant, but he did not care. He wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her away from the wheel that wanted to crush her. Too late he realised that she wore nothing beneath her skirts, and her pale buttocks pressed against his groin woke up his libido in the most painful way.

Then something slapped him in the face, harder than any woman should be able to, and the girl wrenched out of his grasp.

Stunned, Lubos shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Get out of the water before you freeze to death, you fool!" she ordered. "Go, before I release the wheel and it wets you even more!"

Lubos blinked. She'd somehow stopped the waterwheel. She hadn't been in danger at all. Fool that he was, he'd grabbed her and now the iciest water in the world wouldn't return the blood that flooded his nether regions back to his head so he could think. Think about anything else but cupping that bottom in his hands as he made love to her...

"Suit yourself, then."

Lubos didn't have time to register her words before a wave of water hit him, knocking him on his arse in the stream as the wave washed over his head. He came up spluttering. Near drowning had cooled his ardour somewhat by the time he managed to struggle ashore.

Molina stood beside her father, her skirts let down to cover her lovely legs once more, as she folded her arms across her breasts.

"You'd best come up to the house, Master Lubos. Molina will find you some dry clothes while we dry yours, and it seems only fitting that you stay for dinner."

"We're having trout," Molina said, dropping to her knees on the grass. Lubos got another peek under her skirts as she leaned forward to slash her knife across the fat fish's throat before she rose, lifting the fish by the gills.

The fish had slapped him, not Molina, Lubos realised, touching his cheek.

"Quite a chivalrous creature, even if it is a fish," Molina added, as if reading his mind.

Red-faced, Lubos followed her into the house.