I needed to think. I needed to sort out my emotions in a calm, rational manner. I needed to-
'Yes, because rational thought has gotten you so far,' that traitorous part of me scoffed. 'Face it, this issue is rooted in emotions. No amount of rational thought is going to fix it! So stop thinking about it and start actually doing something!'
I closed my eyes for a brief moment and sighed. Perhaps… perhaps a more impulsive and emotional approach was needed? Steeling myself, I turned and looked at Ned.
"I… think I need to check on my workshop," I said, chickening out at the last minute.
"And I should get caught up on the goings on in Winterfell," Ned replied with a nod. "Perhaps we could share the midday meal together?"
"I would like that."
"I will see you then," he said with a faint smile.
I watched Ned get up and carry the tray out of the room, cursing myself for hesitating at the last minute. I'd intended to invite Ned on a ride through the Wolfswood, so that we could talk in relative privacy (excepting the household guards that would certainly accompany us). It would have been easy to pack a picnic basket, find a pleasant clearing, and have a little picnic with him, to get to know him better. In short, I'd intended to ask my husband on a date. And I'd chickened out.
'Well,' that scornful, traitorous part of myself whispered. 'At least you're already married to him. You'll have plenty of chances to try again… assuming you don't keep flaking out.'
Three days. It had taken me three days to finally work up the courage to actually try to turn my marriage into a real relationship. The first step? Getting Ned into a situation where we could talk without servants or vassals overhearing us, and where we could talk about casual topics, rather than my businesses or how Winterfell was doing.
'Ok, come on, you've got to be an adult about this,' I tried to psyche myself up. 'It's just a private dinner. It's not that big of a deal.'
"Ned?" I asked, getting my husband's attention over breakfast.
"Yes, Cat?" He asked with a faint smile.
"I…" the words caught in my throat. "I… ahem," I tried again, but they wouldn't come out.
Ned raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"I'm… going to be busy today," I said in little more than a mumble, unable to meet his eyes. "Could you make sure the wetnurse is taking care of Robb?"
Ned's small smile faded and he nodded. "Aye, I'll see to him," he said. "What will you be doing?"
Thinking quickly, I came up with an excuse. "Well, I have an idea for a planting machine. Normally, I'd go to Garalt, but he's so busy these days. So, I'm going to look around for another carpenter."
"Very well," he nodded. "Be sure to take an escort with you."
"I will."
I ended up going to Garalt, who confirmed that both he and his apprentices were far too busy to take on another project. Instead, I asked him to recommend a different carpenter.
Willard was a tall, thin man, and a veteran of Robert's Rebellion. He had answered the call and fought in Ned's army as a siege engineer. And by that, I mean one of the men responsible for building siege engines. Given the small-scale border raids and quick castle assaults for most of the war, he was quite proficient in assembling scorpions, trebuchets, and catapults in short notice.
The mechanics of those machines weren't overly complicated, but considering some of the things I had in mind for the future, Willard's skill set would be invaluable.
"Explain it to me again, milady," he requested, leaning over and peering at the parchment spread on his workbench.
"It's a seed drill," I told him. "So, as the farmer pushes the cart along…"
I explained how the wheelbarrow-like object worked. As the farmer pushes it along, a small plow at the front, just behind the single wheel, would dig a furrow in the loose soil of a freshly plowed field. The main wheel would turn a rope (which was being used much like a bicycle chain), which would be attached to another wheel, which was attached at the end of a wooden cylinder with several deep notches in it. As the cylinder spins, a few seeds from the hopper would drop into the notch. When the notches rotated around to point down, the seeds dropped into a funnel that was aligned with the furrow. The seeds would be dropped into the furrow, and then a harrow (a wooden tool that looked a bit like a snow shovel) would scoop dirt into it, burying the seeds.
Given Willard's experience with siege engines, some of which were far more complicated than this, I expected that he'd have little trouble actually building the thing. After all, if he could make a ratcheting system capable of pulling back the arm of a catapult or a trebuchet, then he would have no trouble with such a simple device.
Later, if this prototype was successful, we could design a horse-drawn version that could seed multiple rows at once. Hell, he could probably help me design a horse-drawn Gallic reaper, maybe even one with moving 'clippers' to more reliably cut the ears off the grain. But that was for later.
"So?" I expectantly asked. "Can you build it?"
"Aye, I can, milady," he replied with a doubtful frown on his face. "But will it work?"
"The most difficult part will be the cylinder, I think," I told him. "The holes have to be large enough that they won't get clogged, but small enough that they won't let too many seeds through."
"I think I can make that work," he said, idly scratching at his scalp. "Though, I expect a chain would be better than this rope."
"Aye, it would, but the chain would make it more expensive. The farmer would have to take care not to let it rust, either, and if it ever broke, it would be expensive to replace," I replied. "A rope tied just tight enough would suffice to make it work, and could be easily and cheaply replaced. Leather would work better, but would be a bit more expensive."
"Aye, 'tis true," he nodded along.
"So, how long do you think it will be until you have one ready?" I asked.
"For something this size? A sennight if all goes well, two if it doesn't."
"Then I will check back in with you in a sennight," I told him. "How much will you need to finish it?"
The haggling was a bit tedious, but we eventually settled on a little over three stags per machine. It was a bit pricey, but not terribly so.
'Now, if Willard gets it done in time, Yan can replant his fields in half the time, and hopefully use a fraction of the seed he's using now…'
Because that was the biggest advantage of the seed drill; it used fewer seeds to get the same yield. When sowing by hand, the farmer scatters handfuls of seeds across the plowed field in hopes that enough will sprout and take root to give him a good harvest. Birds, squirrels, and all sorts of other creatures would end up eating the majority of the seeds before they could sprout. A smart farmer would come back through and cover the seeds, but that was labor intensive. A seed drill saved time, labor, and seed, and planted in nice neat rows, which made it easier to remove weeds from the field, which again improved yield.
Between the seed drill and the reaper, the farmers in the North will be in a much better place than they were before. Well, assuming the damn thing worked.
"Well?" I asked Ned as we watched Yan push the newly finished seed drill across his freshly plowed field. It had taken Willard almost two sennights to get it working properly, but this would be the first field it was actually used on. "What do you think?"
"He is certainly able to work fast," Ned commented. Indeed, Yan was able to push the seed drill faster than the typical walking speed of a farmer sowing by hand. It covered slightly less space from side to side, but the straight, neat furrows would make up for that.
"And it seems to be going through less seed," I pointed out.
"Aye," he agreed. "If it is consistent, then the farmers need not keep quite so much in reserve for the next planting season. Though, it would be better to have more on hand than is needed, just in case."