It had been inconvenient to move freely among her fief before. While her knight certainly wouldn't have complained, it certainly asked questions that could be answered by anyone however they so wished. An unwed woman was delicate, such travel unwarranted lest she injure her prospectives, especially without a father's protection—or a brother or uncle or any other man from her family.
However, she now had a husband, which now meant she was not so delicate.
That was not to say she travelled alone, though. While he had no need to play the role of doting husband quite so well, she had no complaints, harder to appear a doting wife without a husband to dote on. If nothing else, he provided an opportunity to refine her own thoughts.
"A place in the army for nursing?" he muttered, hand on his chin.
She gave a lopsided smile, then peeked behind the carriage's curtain. "It is necessary that women should accompany the army unless dear would like to convince the men to cook meals and wash clothes and offer company."
Whatever answer he had begun to consider, it died the moment he heard that last word, breaking into a cough. "Indeed."
"So it is that, if these women are to care for the injured and ill, it would be best if they are trained. Not only that, but there are those men who, despite being willing, are unable to fight, or are otherwise unwilling to fight. To provide this alternative gives the former pride and makes hollow the latter's objections."
A chuckle left his mouth, spilling over his hand. "I wonder how much pride such men would find in this pursuit. Alas, to placate men's egos is a Sisyphean task."
"Indeed."
Such a quick, short agreement brought another laugh out of him.
"We have arrived," she said.
Those words came seemingly without a cue, yet almost precisely preceded the carriage's stop. Although not the first time he had been witness to this trick of her, he found it no less impressive, that little glance she took and a strong sense of time all she needed.
That, or an unnoticed signal from the driver.
Their arrival was at the edge of a modest village that fell directly under her domain. When the church had suffered in a storm, she had seen fit that a larger church should be built and chose this place so it would be at the centre of the village's eventual growth. As for the old church, it would eventually be properly repaired and opened to a second congregation if there was need to.
The new church was not made of brick nor concrete. No, her contribution was more subtle than that. Stone brought along roads paved to almost the standard she had set for her own projects.
Though his valet opened the door, he stepped down by himself and then assisted her descent. It only took a handful of seconds, yet the priest arrived in time to greet them, his hands politely clasped and head bowed.
"Your Royal Highnesses," he said.
She tittered behind one hand and waved him off with the other. "Please, Father Johannes, one has not the time for such pleasantries. We are merely passing through and I thought to check on the construction."
He was not an old man despite his age, his onset of grey hair and wrinkles offset by the warmth in his smile and the energy beneath his measured movements. "In that case, please do come in. I apologise that I don't have the documents on hand." He spoke with a heavy accent of the area, yet a clear enunciation.
Of course, the arrival of such a carriage—and its accompanying guards—did not go unnoticed and, after the short walk to the church's doors, she already noticed the distant crowd. Children peeked over fences, wives and daughters through windows, a few men that had been tugging along a cart now taking a break.
This was only two days travel from the city; farther out, she wondered just how quaint her land truly looked.
While the outside of the church followed a simple aesthetic, the inside did not. Arches and pillars along the sides gave the lower part an openness, spacious, and those architectural features gave more places for detailing; some of that detailing was carved, some painted.
High up, glowing in the late-morning's sunshine, were the stained glass windows. Bohemian glass—another contributor to Venice's decline.
As far as churches it went, it was far from lavish, yet she and the priest had been in agreement on what to prioritise, especially as it could always be further decorated later on. Most important was for the people to have an unbroken church once more.
While one could pray anywhere, and one could give sermons anywhere, the building itself held a certain weight that pressed into its congregation's lives. Baptisms, confirmations, marriages, confessions, funerals, and even simply the routine provided a comfort. That, even as the world changed, this place would always be welcoming and familiar.
A church made of brick or concrete would not do at all.
The priest spoke the entire time that they walked through, accompanied by gestures towards whatever he spoke of. What few others were present in the church in the middle of the day understood not to interrupt and, once out of the church's public area, the only other one present quickly addressed their own presence, practically scurrying out with his Bible in hand.
"I hope My Lady understands that, even if she does not have time for pleasantries, I still must be polite," the priest said, his smile broad even as his tone cooled.
She returned his smile, then glanced back to her husband. "Of course, Sir Friedrich is aware of my correspondences," she said, her hands politely clasped. "There are no secrets between husband and wife."
"I am glad to hear that," he said, tone back to cheery. "So then, how may I assist My Lady?"
"That is rather the question, is it not?" she said, her head tilting. "I shall put forward this matter frankly out of consideration for you. It is like this, Augstadt is plagued by merchants. There is no shortage of food and yet the poor struggle to feed themselves. If I intervene, the merchants would no longer bring the food. If I purchase the food and distribute it, that only encourages the merchants to further raise their prices."
Stolen novel; please report.
The priest nodded along, eyes narrowed in sympathy, a hum here and there. Once she finished, he let out a long breath. "My Lady certainly has a difficult issue at hand. If I could offer any help, I most gladly would."
"Well then," she said with a small smile, "as I see it, the merchants can only charge these prices because of how much food they bring. That is, if we supplied more food ourselves, then we need not rely on them."
He spread his hands apart and said, "So My Lady would ask this old man about the families of the village."
A note of laughter touched her lips. "I said I would speak frankly, so I shall. One matter is that I have found Dutch farmers have had good success with four particular crops in a cycle without needing to leave a field fallow for a year. Moreover, we already have issues with some landowners turning farmland into sheep pastures for profit. This Dutch pattern provides fodder and graze for livestock while still producing grain.
"A second matter, traders have also brought unique thoughts back from far abroad. Such a refinement is for those ploughs pulled by animals. Instead of requiring eight oxen, one or two will do for these designs. It should be clear how beneficial this is."
She paused there, if only to give her words time to settle in his ear.
"In both these cases, it is also clear to me that, although farmers prefer to own the land they work, this does also constrain them. That is not to say I wish to seize their land from under them. Rather, I wonder if it would be possible for these farmers to come to an agreement with each other to, in a sense, hold and work the land communally."
He gave a chuckle, a hand on his chin, eyes pinched. "I empathise with My Lady's plight. Every day, I ask myself how can people allow the poor to go hungry and still call themselves Christians."
Pausing, his eyes widened, but that simply returned them to normal, not leaving him wide-eyed.
"Not that I am calling My Lady into question. Our Bishop loves nothing more than to boast of how wonderful it is to once more have a pious ruler for the county."
She raised a hand, stopping him there. "Of course I would not doubt you."
After a broad smile, he returned to his contemplative look of before. "At these times, we understand our fathers plight, both our Father who art in heaven, and our fathers who now join Him. We may speak the good word, but it is up to others to learn."
With that, he bowed his head, a touch of trouble to his expression.
"So My Lady seeks my help. What help I can offer, I wonder," he said, merely thinking aloud.
"There is no need to wonder. I have shared my thoughts and now they may stand on their own merits. If others disregard these merits, that is unfortunate. If there are those who would embrace them, then I would gladly assist. That is all."
His gentle nodding-along slowed to a stop in the silence, his mouth thin. "Well. I do see the merits, but I am unsure if others will listen to this old man."
"All it takes is one, then the others shall see and copy," she said, her voice gentle. "The Lord is good, that what is difficult to discover is easy to learn."
He gave a small chuckle. "Indeed, how good it is that we may all find salvation in Christ's example."
The two shared a smile that soon faded, hers into polite, his into the natural one he usually wore. In that silence, he seemed to age until he finally spoke up.
"I hope My Lady does not mind me saying, but it seems that a visit was… unnecessary for this little conversation," he said, barely above a whisper.
She shook off his words with a flick of her wrist. "On paper, it can be hard to judge a person's sincerity. I am sure of my own sincerity and so I would show it. In a similar vein, on paper, it is rather easy to lie and mislead," she said, her voice drawing a sharp point with those last three words.
However, he still met her gaze cleanly. "I have never had any doubt for My Lady's sincerity or words."
"Of course," she said, then her smile brightened. "What I am interested in is how the city may be of assistance to this village. That is, these sorts of things are best when both sides help one another, no? The village has no shortage of food for itself, so why should it change?"
At the end of her speech, she leaned forwards, a finger to her lips.
"Pray do not tell me that there is no need or that the village lacks nothing. In person, it is easier to judge sincerity and harder to conceal lies."
For a moment, he simply stared back with an amused smile, then lowered his head as he took off his glasses, giving them a polish. Once he put them back on, he raised his head to meet her gaze once more.
"I see now why My Lady wanted to meet. No, of course I won't lie. We've lost many young men to the city, especially in recent years. The farms still run, but we have to go to towns for every other little thing, and good luck getting a master to come out here. It would be a waste to put that down on paper, but since My Lady is here, I'll say it, even though I know there is nothing to be done about it."
His words didn't come out heated, yet his frustration carried a heavy weight. A burden made heavier by countless remarks from his congregation—and himself.
Her lips curved into a small smile. "Very well."
Soon enough, the carriage shuddered to a start once more with the couple comfortably seated. What silence there was did not long settle.
"This detour, I wonder how necessary it was?" he said, not a whisper, but quiet.
She tittered at his attempted teasing. "If dear is curious, he need only ask," she said with a certain humour.
At her teasing, he dared not answer.
"No, I am sure to dear this is unclear," she said, her voice cooler now. "That is, dear is a man and I am a woman. My word naturally holds less authority. To rule, it is necessary that I establish such bonds. Although I say that, even men should endeavour to rule by means other than authority, that authority is best at being a tool to maintain the current state than to enact change. Naturally, a ruler should aspire to change. Change will eventually come to pass regardless of our authority and so, in idleness, we would naturally lose power."
In her pause, he found time to say, "Such as with the sheep pastures?"
Her lips curled. "Indeed," she said, gentle. "This is in part my own failure. Little wool comes from the south while the improved roads bring more grain, and demand for wool has certainly grown under my influence."
This time, he did not interrupt the pause and so it became a silence, accompanied by the sound of the carriage's wheels on cobblestone. Eventually, he brought together his thoughts into a question.
"Do you believe he truly shall speak to the farmers?"
Her answer did not come quick, a sigh falling from her lips as she peeked behind the curtains at the gentle farmland. "This area has particularly suffered. Instead of considering what they may do to recover, they would protect themselves, which only worsens the issue. Still, I understand. It is the instinctive response. However, that does not make it the natural response."
"Pray tell, what is the natural response to suffering?" he asked lightly.
"It is to ask for help."
She gave that answer without hesitation, had spoken it so plainly. Something neither obvious nor obscure but simply true.
"Still, my question remains unanswered," he said.
She tittered, her hand over her mouth. Once she finished, that hand drifted to the spot between her eyebrows, pressing there for a moment, then drifted back down to her lap. "To the clergy, I must appear pious; to my peers, I must appear traditional; to the commoner, I must appear sympathetic. Today's topic did not lend itself well to piousness."
"Which is why the emphasis on its own merits," he said.
"Dear truly understands me, that we are a blessed couple," she said sweetly.
His laugh wasn't quite so sweet.
"Now that I have been asked, we shall see if I may bring some work there. So I would gain a measure of power. Not as their ruler, but as their neighbour and as their customer and as their employer and as their supplier."
He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. "Such as by introducing a local demand for wool," he said.
"What a wonderful idea! Oh, my husband is so wise," she said, her hands coming together in a clap.
He could only give an empty laugh.
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