TWENTY

Finally, the rain stopped, and a day dawned that was cold and clear, when the sun sent watery rays of light to tempt Julia to step outside. She intended to visit the stables, to see what progress Romein had made with his new wheel, but one of the men from the salt works called, "Lady Julia!"

In a moment, they were all calling greetings and exclaiming over her return, for they'd heard word from Veluwe that she had gone home to her father.

"Do you mean to mine the salt, as Master Romein is here, Lady Julia?" one of the men asked.

She racked her brain for his name. Henk, wasn't it? Or was it Jan? No, because Jan, the stouter of the two brothers, stood beside Henk, holding a shovel.

"I would like to. Is harvesting salt harder than harvesting crops?" she asked.

The men laughed.

"Yes, and no, my lady," Henk said. "The harvest is more work, for salt is heavier than wheat, but there is no need to sow or plough the field. If you mean to mine the salt at Veluwe, me and my brothers are ready to come home the moment you give the word. Now, if you wish it, for Master Romein has offered us three weeks' holiday for Yule, and a sack of salt to carry home to our families, as reward for our good work this year."

That was kind of him. She had always given the families of Veluwe gifts of food at Yule, but this year she had precious little to give. Even she lived off Romein's kindness, for he refused to accept any payment for her board and lodging. The saints be praised he hadn't stopped her from sewing the sails for him, or she would be even more deeply in his debt.

But the weight of Henk's words began to sink in. "You mean...you could start turning Veluwe's salt-scarred fields fertile again, so that we could plant crops in the spring?"

The men laughed again. It wasn't malicious – most of them had known her since she'd first arrived at Veluwe, a wide-eyed girl asking questions about everything, for the more she understood, the better she could manage the estate. If anything, they seemed only too happy to help her understand.

"As soon as the ground freezes, there will be nothing simpler, Lady Julia. Master Romein has had the mill ponies working a pump to shift the water from the field, but when the ground freezes, so does the water, and we only have to lift the ice onto barrows and cart it to the river. Once the ice is gone, there is only salt left. With enough men, we could clear several fields before year's end, and if Master Romein will spare us until the spring...perhaps we could even clear the salt from the orchards, too, so you shall have apples again come the autumn."

Julia felt her cheeks flush. These men knew her too well. Amma must have told them how fond she was of apples, for surely no one had seen how she wept at how pitiful this year's harvest was. Scarcely enough to make a single pie or tart, let alone last them the winter. Just the thought of celebrating the new year without any kind of apple cake had been the last straw that sent her scurrying home to her father. Only now, here she was at the mill with Romein, and still there wasn't an apple in sight.

But if she knew next year would be better...

She would take that wager. "Yes. As soon as you are finished working for Master Romein, please get started on the fields at Veluwe. And any salt you mine before year's end is yours to keep."

"You truly are a saint, Lady Julia," Henk said, as the other men nodded their agreement.

She managed a smile at the compliment, but if they knew she was gambling her future and theirs for the hope of an apple cake, they would be more likely to compare her to Eve in the Garden of Eden than any angel or saint.