THIRTY-ONE

 

Romein had never seen Veluwe before, but he'd imagined something more like his father's house in Valkhof. Not this strange wooden fort, walled in on all sides like a miniature city, with a tower rising up in the middle, overlooking the lands it ruled. There was only one gate, and it was closed.

So Romein strolled up to the gate and knocked.

"Who goes there?"

For a moment, Romein considered actually giving the guard his name, and his father's, too. For it was no secret – Julia surely knew the truth, for what reason would she have had to run from his father's house except finding out she'd been kissed by her enemy?

It could not have been the kiss itself, Romein told himself. It couldn't have. Or she would have pushed him away or frozen or something, other than kiss him back. And she had most definitely kissed him back.

Or maybe it was the kiss. Maybe he should have practiced more when he was at court, instead of mooning after Rosaline. Then, he might still be in Valkhof with Julia, sharing a cup of mulled cider in the warmth of his family's hall, as he worked up the courage to ask her for her hand.

Instead of standing outside the gates of her castle, praying that they would open. He glanced at the mill ponies, labouring under full loads. He had no intention of making them carry such weights home again. "I brought supplies. Delicacies for Lady Julia's table."

"What sort of delicacies?" The man peered over the palisade. His cloak pin caught the light, and Romein blinked in surprise.

Of course, he should not have been surprised at all to see the Bishop's family crest on the man, for Julia was a Capet, after all, and the fleur-de-lis her family's emblem. But he'd only seen such a cloak pin once, and the man who wore it had been the oaf who threw him in the river.

Romein squinted up at him. The young man he remembered must have been in many battles since then, to own a face so scarred. But his voice had not changed.

"I don't rightly know. My master told me to deliver the food to the castle for the lady, and I don't ask questions. Just do my job," Romein said, trying to slow down his speech to sound like one of the salt workers. "The miller said he'd give me an extra loaf of bread if I returned the ponies before nightfall, though, so if you'd be so kind, sir, and open the gate..."

The oaf waved to someone behind him, and the gates swung open.

No one helped him unload the horses, but Romein did not mind much. Everyone seemed to eye him with suspicion – first the oaf up on the battlements, and then the grey-haired woman in the kitchen. Julia's cook, he presumed.

Romein pressed the basket of oil cakes into the cook's hands. "For Lady Julia, with my best wishes for a prosperous new year," he said.

The cook's eyes narrowed. "And who might I tell her they are from?"

Romein bowed low. "From a friend, who wishes her every happiness, and hopes that this gift will at least make her smile."

The cook seized his hand. "If you are truly her friend, then perhaps you can help her. Come to the orchard after dark, for the lady surveys the progress on the salt works every evening from her balcony. If you would have her see you..."

Romein grinned. "I would love nothing more. Thank you, mistress."

He hurried to unload the rest of his cargo, before hustling the horses up to the village, where he knew Henk and his brothers lived.

When the sun set, and the men arrived home, they invited him to join them for dinner, but Romein declined, saying he had business up at the castle with Lady Julia.

The brothers exchanged glances, before Henk said, "The best way to reach Lady Julia, with that fool guarding the gates, is to take one of the ladders in the orchard, and set it upon one of the snowdrifts beside the walls. It might not quite reach the balcony, but it will get you close enough to exchange words with her, without the fool knowing anything about it."

Romein clapped him on the shoulder. "You are a good man, and loyal to Lady Julia. I'll make sure she knows it."

"Oh, she knows all right. We are her people, and no Count or Bishop will sway us from her, not while she still draws breath."

"Then you will not tell..." What was the oaf's name? He should remember it, but he could not...oh! "You will not tell Thibault who I am, or that we have spoken?"

Henk spat twice on the ground. "There's for Thibault and that's for his airs and graces. He's the Bishop's brother's bastard, and no better than the rest of us. It is only out of respect for Lady Julia that we do not run him right off her lands. The only time he deigns to look or speak to us is to complain about where we put the snow when we dig the salt from her fields. Thrice he has told us to stop, for he dislikes seeing bare earth where he thinks there should be white snow. But we are here on Lady Julia's orders, restoring her fields, and we will not stop unless the command comes from her lips alone."

Romein's heart dared to hope. "So she still wants to save the lowlands from the salt?" Perhaps she did not hate him, then, if she still shared his plans.

"She wants Veluwe to be green again, as it was in her mother's day, just like the fields around the mill. She wants the trees to bear fruit, and for the cows to have fresh pasture and...is there a saint of growing things, Master Romein? For if there is not, then I am certain that when she takes her place in heaven, that saint will be her."

If not before she'd saved the lowlands, then definitely after, Romein reflected. But he merely bowed his thanks to the man, and headed back to the castle.