"All of that coin and all of that labor can do all of the improvements you want done well before Robb becomes Lord Paramount," I added in. "Plus, with more men living in the North, the size of your levies would grow. The North could be wealthy, it could be well defended, and it could be strong. Stronger than it has ever been, Ned."
"But only if your crops and harvesting machines work," Ned pointed out, his voice quiet.
"Aye," I replied with a sigh. "But, do you think I would be showing it to you if I wasn't confident it would work?"
Ned sighed, shook his head, and gave me a tentative smile. "No. No, I don't suppose you would."
"Then trust me, Ned," I pressed. "Let me prove to you that my ideas work, that I can help you make the North better than it has ever been."
Ned stared for a long moment then nodded, a faint cautiously hopeful expression hidden behind his beard. "Alright. Prove your crops and machines work, and we'll see about bringing in some smallfolk."
"Then prepare yourself," I replied with more confidence than I truly felt. "We're almost there."
Ned gently ran his hands through the ripe ears of rye that waved in the gentle summer breeze. Half of his attention was fixed on the golden grain in his palm, while the other half stared in fascination at Yan as the farmer walked back and forth along the field. Or rather, Ned was staring at the harvester Yan was pushing.
The design was based off an old illustration I'd seen of a Gallic reaper, a device used in Roman times to harvest grain. In essence, it was about twice the size of a wheelbarrow, but with a metal comb with sharpened conical prongs at the front. The wheels were placed near the middle so that, depending on how high one held the handles, the comb would be just under the height of the ears of grain. As Yan pushed the cart, the stalks were funneled into the comb, until the pressure pressed the stalks against the sharp edges. The ears were neatly sliced off and, once separated, they fell into the basin of the cart.
The device wasn't perfect; it occasionally missed an ear here or there, or accidentally spilled a little bit when Yan hit a rock or a divot in the field. And, I was beginning to notice, he had to empty the cart in the barn rather frequently to keep the thing light enough to push along.
'Well, if we extend the handles, we can attach it to an ox or a draft horse,' I reasoned. 'Eventually, I could add a gearing system connected to the axle that would move a blade back and forth between the prongs of the comb, like a pair of electric clippers. Eventually…'
As it was, Yan had been harvesting for about half the day, but he was a little more than halfway done with this field. And he had done it all by himself. Granted, the earless stalks would need to be reaped with a scythe, but that was a lot faster and less backbreaking than harvesting sheaves with a sickle. Once the grain was safe in the barn, he could come back and cut the stalks at his leisure, then pile them into haystacks for later use.
"Well, husband?" I asked, more teasing than mocking or angry. "What do you think?"
"The wheat isn't ready to harvest," he commented, looking over at another field. The wheat there wasn't completely golden yet; Yan had said it wouldn't be ready for another moon.
"Aye, but the rye is," I said, gesturing at the grain he was still running his hand through. "As are the barley and the oats."
"I never would have believed it," he said, his voice soft. "But, it seems you were right."
I smiled. A part of me, the part that was still irritated at him from earlier, wanted to rub it in his face, to proclaim my superiority and establish dominance in our relationship. However, I knew that doing so would only cause more arguments and strife down the line. Instead, I swallowed my ego.
"I can't take all the credit," I replied with as much humility as I could muster. "Maester Luwin found the old tax records that spoke of the common crops that were grown in the North before the coming of the Andals. And Yan here did most of the hard work, and kept an excellent record. And with his notes and Luwin's research, I'm sure we could prove it works well enough to convince other lords to at least try it for themselves."
"Aye, we might just be able to," Ned agreed. He finally tore his eyes away from Yan's work and turned to look at me. Despite his placid face, I could see the light of hope shining in his eyes. "With this, we… we might not have to import food anymore…"
"At the very least, we won't be as dependent on the South for grain," I agreed. "Besides, with two crops per year, your tax revenue will increase."
"Aye… aye, I suppose it will," he replied.
Suddenly, Ned closed the distance between us. His arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me flush against his body. I barely had time to let out a surprised squeak before his lips crashed into mine.
The first thing I noticed was that his lips were rough, and that his beard was scratchy. His other hand reached up and tangled in my long, straight red hair. He leaned into me, deepening the kiss, and before I knew it, his tongue was probing at my lips.
I… I don't know what I was thinking at that moment. My body, this woman's body, reacted all on its own. I grew damp down below, my nipples stiffened against my linen camisole, and my stomach grew warm and tight. And I… I parted my lips, more by instinct than anything else, and let Ned in.
For a while, my mind went blank. It wasn't until some time later that I realized that Ned had pulled back, a boyish grin in his face as he stared at my dazed expression. There was a burning look behind his eyes, and it only made my body react all the stronger. My mind, though… my mind was caught between surprise, disgust, and… curiosity.
"What… what was that for?" I asked, belatedly realizing how breathless my voice sounded after I spoke.
"You are… much more than I ever hoped for in a wife," he replied, his voice husky and deep. "Beautiful, intelligent, and so very clever… I must be the luckiest Lord in Westeros."
I flushed. I don't know why, but that compliment… well, I was very, very flattered.
"Thank you, my Lord," I replied. I gave him a tentative smile and said, "I could have done much worse for a husband, I think…"
Ned grinned, looking quite pleased with himself.
I gently extricated myself from his arms and self-consciously smoothed down my dress.
"It's getting late," I said, doing my best to project calm. "We should start back soon, lest we try riding in the dark."
I could see the disappointment on Ned's face before I had even finished speaking. "Aye, my lady," he replied, his own face and voice turning placid. "I suppose we should."
As we made our way over to the horses, I couldn't help but think 'He's disappointed,' to myself.