SEVENTEEN

 

By the time they'd finished their meal, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, which the miller declared was fine enough weather to return to fixing his waterwheel.

Julia sighed. The miller was a very pleasant sort of man, and she wanted to know more about his waterwheel and salt works, and why he'd given the wheel sails, but she knew she couldn't stay. She needed to ride home to Father, to tell him about the sorry state Veluwe had fallen into, and ask for his help to fix it.

She rose, smoothing down the sides of her tunic. That was another thing she owed the miller – for reminding her how she ought to travel.

"I thank you for your kind hospitality, and for the loan of these clothes. I'd be happy to pay you for them, as I do not know when I will come this way again, and I truly must be off."

He stared at her for a long moment. "It is not often I am blessed to have such a charming dinner companion. Please, take the clothes as a gift, and your company is payment enough. I wish you well on your journey, though I admit I am curious."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"Why do you travel as a man? When you first arrived here seven years ago, and again now?"

As a man himself, the miller had likely never had to consider such things before.

"It is not safe for a woman to travel alone. There are men who might do her harm." If the Count of Gelderland caught wind that the Bishop of Maastricht's only daughter was travelling alone on the road, he would send men to capture her for sure, before forcing her to relinquish Veluwe to him. Father had said so enough times. "My father felt it safer for me to travel in disguise then, and I doubt the world has changed so much that it is any safer now. Especially as I do not have the travel companions I did then." Not that Thibault had been much protection. The number of times they'd gotten into trouble because of him.

But if William were here...

"You must miss your brothers," the miller said, as if reading her mind.

She did miss them. Both William and Aran had been protective, as older brothers always were, but their protectiveness had always been founded in their love for her. But both were likely married now, with children of their own to protect. If she wanted a protector, she'd have to hire one. Or find a husband, which was probably what her father would expect. Her father probably already had some poor sod picked out, waiting to woo her, as soon as he could spare the man to send him to Veluwe. So Julia would be doing her father and her future husband a favour, then, in coming home.

She shivered. She should wear her cloak as she rode, to keep the cold and the rain off her. The rest of her now dry clothes, she shoved into her saddlebags with her other possessions. Then she headed outside to find her horse.

Epona allowed Julia to lead her out of the stable amiably enough, and stood still to be saddled. Julia would miss being able to do things for herself, as she had for so long out here. At home, Father would expect her to let the servants do the work, while she stood by and looked useless. Worse, she'd feel useless, too, for there would be nothing for her to do but sewing and embroidery. If Father found out how well she could sail, or how swiftly she could gut a fish, he'd probably expire in horror.

Funny, she'd rather catch and gut a thousand fish, and sail straight through a storm, than head home to Father right now to confess her failure. But duty called her, and Julia had always been a dutiful daughter.

She set one booted foot in the stirrup, and swung up onto Epona's back.

Or at least she tried to. Pain lanced her side, stealing her breath and threatening to steal her sight, too.

Strong arms caught her, easing her down onto the ground again as Julia struggled to breathe. Just inhaling left her sobbing.

"Easy, easy. You must have broken your ribs. You can't ride with broken ribs. You must stay here and rest until they are healed."

She couldn't stay. She had to go to Father. To tell him...

"What would you know? You're a miller, not a physician. Why, you can't even make sails properly," she snapped, though her voice was not as strong as she wished it to be. "Your sail broke off and spooked my horse, or she would not have thrown me. Any injuries she has done me, I can surely lay the fault for them at your feet."

He chuckled softly. "Ah, but I've fallen and broken my ribs, too, thanks to the ministrations of your brother. I know exactly what that feels like."

Oh, by all that was holy...her pain now was penance for not stopping Thibault all those years ago. "Cousin. Thibault is not my brother, he's my cousin, and a bastard cousin, at that."

"Ah, I could have told you he was a bastard on the day I met him. But it's funny. I know your cousin's name, for you have mentioned it before, but I do not yet know yours." He rose, then bowed in such a practiced fashion, Julia swore he must have spent time at court. "I am Romein, the current owner of this establishment, which I hope to greatly improve."

Yes. With sails and strange wheels. Julia would not have believed it, if she had not seen his contraptions with her own eyes. She sighed. What did it matter if the miller knew her name? It was likely a common enough name for girls in these parts, for it had been her mother's and her mother's before her. "I'm Julia."

He took her hand in his and kissed it. "I am honoured to have met you, Julia, and I look forward to listening to many a lecture from you on my shortcomings in sailmaking, until you are fit to continue your journey."

Stay...here? With him? Julia blinked. Well, if she could not sit upon a horse, nor ride home to Father, of course it followed that she could not head back to Veluwe.

"Thank you." While the words fell from her lips unbidden, she was grateful. For deep in her heart, she did not want to leave.