The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) (27 page)

A few minutes later, he arrived at a tavern near the harbor that was already busy despite the early hour. Positioning himself by the front door, he looked around, then was suddenly seized by a powerful hand and dragged into an empty adjacent room.

“Here you are finally! I’ve been waiting for you since yesterday. Tell me what’s going on in Flühi’s house? Is there any news?” Utz had been idly sitting in the tavern at a time when every other wagon driver was earning double pay trying to carry all the guests in and around Constance.

Standing on tiptoe, the boy whispered in Utz’s ear. “There was another confrontation between the master and the squire, and Flühi shouted so loudly that people living three houses away could hear. He threatened to bash in the squire’s skull if he touched Hedwig again.”

“And you can testify to that.” It sounded like an order.

Melcher nodded excitedly. “I can swear it!”

“Not before I tell you to. I’m warning you. Don’t say another word of this to anyone, and do what I say.”

“Of course, Utz, I understand.”

The wagon driver tousled the boy’s hair. “If you listen to me, you’ll make out all right, Melcher.”

“But you’ll keep your promise to me, won’t you? Becoming a nobleman’s vassal is quite different from trimming boards and making barrel staves for Master Mombert.”

“Of course,” Utz replied with a laugh. “When this is all over and you’ve done everything I’ve told you, I’ll take you to a nobleman who’ll accept you into his service. We’ve already agreed to that. Then you’ll wear fancy clothes like the officers you idolize so much. But now you must go! I don’t want them to notice you missing.”

Melcher ran off, beaming, and Utz watched until the boy had vanished among the crowd in the narrow street. Then grinning with satisfaction, the carriage driver returned to his table to finish his wine. A short time later, he ambled through the little streets, stopping in front of the cathedral where the upcoming council was going to meet.

High dignitaries were standing around the church square, engaged in animated discussions. Armed guards attempted to keep an eye on their lords and at the same time drive away street vendors who were crowding in too closely in order to sell their food and sweets.

Utz strolled through the throng like a casual spectator, deftly stepping out of the way of the soldiers, until he reached the upper church courtyard where a group of canons was engaged in a lively conversation. While keeping an eye on the North Gate, Utz pretended to be interested in the discussion, which centered around the pope’s secret departure a few days earlier. As soon as he saw the man he’d been waiting for exit the church, wearing a scholar’s flowing robe, the wagon driver moved away from the group, crossing paths with him as if by accident.

“The case involving Steinzell and Mombert Flühi can begin in a few days,” he said softly as he passed.

Counselor Rupert Splendidus bowed his head without glancing at the wagon driver, then turned to look at the abbot of the Waldkron monastery who was just leaving the cathedral behind him.

“Shall we walk home together, Herr Hugo? Along the way you could tell me how your hunting party went this morning.”

Hugo von Waldkron grimaced. Rupert responded to the silent show of emotion with a malicious smile, put his arm around the cleric’s shoulder, and pulled him closer, as if to support him.

V.

Looking down from on top of Mount Lichten near Meersburg, Marie saw the blue waters of Lake Constance lying before her again for the first time in years, and a shiver ran down her spine.

In the clear air of that beautiful spring day, she was just able to make out the huge main tower of the Constance cathedral to the south with its golden weathercock perched on the roof. That rooster was the last thing she had seen when she had left the city, and now she imagined it letting out a mighty crow heard throughout town when she returned, announcing that she had come back to seek vengeance.

She quickly shook off this thought. If she wanted to stay alive and plot her revenge, she couldn’t strut about like a mighty gentleman loudly demanding his due, but would instead have to be as quiet and inconspicuous as a little mouse. She could only succeed if no one in town recognized her and started gossiping.

Except for Hiltrud, none of the other traveling harlots knew her story; nor did the procurer, Jobst. In his group, there were sixteen courtesans, as Jobst called them in his flattering way. Only a few of them were especially beautiful, but they all had pleasant faces and good figures, and there were no penny whores among them. These women all came of their own accord, drawn to the especially large gathering of soldiers, servants, and monks like bees to honey. Some of these women helped fill the better municipal bordellos where council members would seek to unwind after their long and difficult negotiations, and some, like Marie and Hiltrud, wanted to work independently.

Jobst had rented a wagon so none of the women would have to walk and none would get sick. The carriage could be closed on all sides in case of bad weather, but at that moment, the canvas was tied up so the women could view the countryside and, as Marie chuckled to herself, so that other travelers could inspect them. Sitting up front on a board fastened to the wagon sides, Jobst had been entertaining the women with stories about the area. Now he looked down on the tired group and pointed at the lake. “Your lovely free time is coming to an end. By this evening we’ll be in Constance, and then you can start working.”

The women looked relieved, as they were exhausted and looked forward to leaving the bouncing vehicle. Kordula, the oldest woman, said with a groan, “It’s high time, Jobst. My ass is beaten up with all of the bumps.”

“But not the way you’re accustomed to,” Helma joked, adjusting the soft part of her pack as a cushion against the potholes.

The others had folded up their blankets and laid them out on the bare wood, but that didn’t help much. The wagon was sturdy, built to carry barrels and other heavy merchandise, and it wasn’t well suited for women’s tender backsides. The procurer was assailed by complaints from all sides.

Jobst, offended, raised his eyebrows and ordered the servant walking alongside to stop the two horses. “If you’re so uncomfortable with the ride, then get out. You can go the rest of the way to the shore on foot.”

He jumped over the side of the wagon and bowed slightly. Marie stood up first. Tossing her blanket over her shoulder, she picked up her bundle and let Jobst help her down. Hiltrud placed her hand on Marie’s shoulder and also jumped to the ground, then nudged her friend to the side for a quick chat. The contact made Marie’s back start to itch again, and she scratched vigorously.

“What’s the matter? You haven’t caught some disease, have you?” Hiltrud asked anxiously.

Marie rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. “It feels as if the scars on my back are still fresh.”

“We shouldn’t have come here.” Hiltrud lowered her voice so that no one else could hear.

Marie shook her head. “No, it was the right decision. I must finally come to terms with my past.”

Hiltrud waved her right arm dismissively. “Forget what happened. Just try to earn as much money as you can in Constance, and afterward, perhaps you can settle down somewhere else with your savings and start a new life.”

“You think we should start a new life afterward? I have nothing against that, but no city would give citizenship to two women with dubious backgrounds unless we’re rich enough to buy ourselves the mayor’s sons as husbands.”

Hiltrud knew Marie was right and that she was just dreaming. Just the same, she started to laugh. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll actually make that much. According to Jobst, the attendees are very generous.”

“Let’s hope so,” Kordula said, walking toward Marie and Hiltrud when she heard what they’d just said. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea for us to get out of this business after the council. After all, we’re still young enough to have children, but in a few years we’ll just be a bunch of old hags.”

Marie made a face when she heard that. Who would marry a prostitute except for perhaps a knacker, a gravedigger, or an executioner?—men that not even a maid would want, to say nothing of a respectable lady. And even these men would make demands, if not for looks, then at least for money. Shaking her head pensively, Marie stomped away in the direction Jobst was pointing.

Hiltrud and Kordula were close behind while Helma and Nina stayed with the procurer, fawning over him. Jobst had persuaded those two to stay in one of the city bordellos, and had also described life there in glowing terms to Marie and Hiltrud. But they had rebuffed him because they, like Kordula, wanted to be their own bosses and not have to hand over a large portion of their hard-earned money in exchange for a leaky roof and bad food. At some point Jobst had given up and promised them a modest house by the brick pits; although, his rate was exorbitant and he wanted the first three months’ rent paid in advance.

Marie knew the part of town where the brick pits were located. Five years before, that area had been undeveloped wetland along the Rhine where poor townspeople went to harvest grain for their goats. Based on that, Marie knew their housing would probably be little more than a stable. But she wasn’t alarmed: she and Hiltrud had to fix up their winter quarters every year anyway to make them livable, and Kordula had already offered to lend a hand with the work and to share in the expenses. Though the two friends hadn’t yet decided whether or not to let Kordula join them, Marie liked the idea. Kordula reminded Marie of Gerlind when she first met her, even though the broad-hipped woman was younger than Gerlind had been at that time.

Marie decided not to worry about the future for a while and instead concentrated on placing her feet on the stony path, covered with giant tree roots winding down to the lake. Though it was only March, the sun burned down from a cloudless sky, and the women were happy to be walking in the shade. Despite the afternoon’s warmth, the morning had been bitterly cold, and most of them still wore their woolen jackets or two layers of dresses, making them all glow damply. The little streams of sweat that ran down Marie’s back irritated her scars even more.

Hiltrud noticed her rolling her shoulders in discomfort, and scratched Marie’s back with her fingers. Marie turned to thank her friend and noticed the wagon driver circling the horses behind them in order to drive back. Seeing with a start that the man looked a little like Utz, probably due to his clothing, Marie realized how lucky she’d been up till then, as Jobst could have met her tormenters when he rented the wagon. She hoped that Utz would be so busy with the council that there’d be little danger of her meeting him by chance in Constance.

Leaving the forest, Marie had a clear view over the lake. At the foot of the slope, a large barge already fully loaded with sacks and boxes was tied to a rickety-looking pier extending over the water. The first passengers pressed forward to board, but the boat seemed much too small to accommodate both the prostitutes and a group of scholars also waiting for transport, as well as a man on a mule now approaching on the shore road from Uhldingen. Even from a distance it was easy to see that he was a cleric, and when he got closer, his badge showed he was the abbot of a Benedictine monastery. As he rode past, the arrogant look on his chubby face and the way he pulled his robe and overcoat to him tightly in order to avoid contact with the women made a mockery of the concept of Christian humility.

Riding onto the pier, the abbot stopped by the boat, and two boatmen helped him out of the saddle. One of the boatmen gave him his arm to help him climb over the side while the second led the mule to some buildings on a forested knoll back on shore.

“Hey, you there! Hurry up and get in! I want to get to Constance before nightfall,” the boatman shouted at the whores and the learned gentlemen. The men crowded together in front, pushing Helma and Nina roughly aside.

Hiltrud and Marie climbed aboard, but the boat was so crowded, they had to clamber on top of the boxes where Marie wound up sitting next to the abbot. Snorting with contempt, he acted as if she repulsed him, but Marie noticed him casting furtive glances her way. Suddenly, he smacked his lips and reached for her, trying to put his hands down her dress. She quickly drew back as far as she could, turned her back to him, and pulled her shawl over her head to keep him from touching her hair. Kordula, who sat between her and Hiltrud, nudged her with a slightly malicious grin.

“The man sitting next to you is Hugo, the abbot of the Waldkron monastery. I’m surprised he’s staring at you like that, since he’s got a reputation for chasing young virgins and requesting prostitutes who look like very young girls.”

“Whereas I don’t look either young or innocent,” Marie joked.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just wondering why he’s suddenly taking an interest in a grown woman . . .” Kordula pressed her right index finger against her nose, deep in thought. “Last time I saw him, he kept a girl who was as blond as you are and had a Madonna-like face just like yours. Maybe you’ve picked up a loyal customer.”

Marie shrugged. “If he pays well, he can have me.”

Leaning forward, Kordula lowered her voice even more. “Be careful. The abbot is one of those repulsive men who like to hurt women. The young girl I just mentioned used to sob as she told me things . . .” The rest remained unsaid as one of the boatmen cast off the lines and the ship began to toss alarmingly. Kordula screamed and grabbed hold of the bundle she was sitting on.

The boatman used a long pole to shove off from the shore and headed out into open water while his two assistants raised the sail. The sail billowed out as the wind caught it, and the captain put down the pole to reach for the rudder. A breeze from the north drove the heavy boat out onto the lake.

When Marie was younger, her father often took her to Meersburg on the river, so she was familiar with this type of travel, and the rocking of the boat didn’t bother her. Hiltrud was also unruffled, but Kordula stared anxiously at the receding coastline. Once she had calmed down and resumed talking, she’d forgotten the abbot, and the only thing that interested her was what might be awaiting them in Constance.

Marie was so tense with anticipation that she only added a few mumbled words to the conversation. For years she’d been upset whenever she heard someone mention her hometown, but now she was dying to be there again. The boat rounded the peninsula, heading for the international merchant’s pier next to the warehouse. Crowds of people packed the shore in front of the tall buildings, and Marie panicked, assuming she’d be recognized at once and turned over to the guards. To keep her fear in check, she silently repeated Jobst’s assurance that all invited visitors, including harlots, were protected by the kaiser’s decree and could not be bothered.

When the boat docked, Abbot Hugo pushed to the front of the line and reached out for the boatmen helping passengers disembark. They struggled to lift him over the side, holding on to him until he was safe on dry land. Their hope for a tip was in vain, however, as the abbot pulled his cloak tightly closed, walking right past their outstretched hands without giving them a second look as he pressed his huge body through the crowd.

Marie watched as the abbot headed toward a man dressed in academic robes made of good, fur-trimmed cloth and a fashionable cap, indicating that the wearer, unlike most of his scholarly colleagues, was a man of means. Though his robe concealed his body, he seemed familiar. When he turned to speak to the abbot, she recognized his face, and her heart skipped a beat. It was Counselor Rupert. Greeting the abbot with obvious pleasure, Rupert put his arm around him.

Trembling with anxiety, Marie was simultaneously sweating and freezing even though the weather was pleasantly warm, and she wanted to hide under the cargo until everyone had left. As the boatman drove the passengers off the boat like a herd of sheep, she clung to Hiltrud’s skirt, trying to disappear behind her statuesque friend.

Hiltrud looked quizzically at Marie and noticed her panicky expression. Though she initially couldn’t imagine what might have frightened her friend so much, she swiftly caught on. “That fellow over there who looks like a vulture . . . Is he your former fiancé?”

Marie just nodded silently, since she had lost her voice. But then her fear suddenly gave way to overwhelming hatred, hitting her as hard as Hunold’s whips had long ago. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to attack the man responsible for all her misfortunes, flinging her anger and bitterness back in his face and letting everyone know what a scoundrel he was. She quickly came to her senses, however, as she knew that no one would believe a prostitute.

As Rupert and the abbot disappeared toward the fish market, Marie breathed a sigh of relief and followed Hiltrud’s lead as she hopped off the boat and back onto dry land.

Jobst was gathering together his small group of harlots, and he waved at the two others to join them. A small crowd of men surrounded the women, commenting on their appearances and shouting obscenities. One of the men even jokingly asked Nina to show her breasts and raise her skirt so he could see if it was worth his time to come and visit her. Such behavior would have been deemed offensive in Constance five years ago, and the perpetrator might have even been put in the stocks, but apparently the city council had looked the other way as moral standards slipped.