The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) (10 page)

Hiltrud tilted her head to one side. “If you keep polishing off so many bratwursts, you’ll get as big as Berta.”

“Me?” asked Marie, smoothing her dress with both hands so Hiltrud could see her flat belly. “Where do you see any fat?”

Hiltrud grinned. “I didn’t say you’re getting fat, but if you keep stuffing yourself like that, it won’t take long. As far as Giso’s offer is concerned, it wouldn’t be so bad to be taken care of over the winter. Remember the year before last when we were evicted from the cabin after the first snow? If we hadn’t been lucky enough to find that abandoned shack, we would have really been in trouble.”

“But he’ll take only one of us to Arnstein for the winter.”

“I’d never go to this castle without you,” Hiltrud said emphatically. “Anyway, I think Giso will pick you. I’m probably too tall for his fine lord.”

“Bah, I won’t go there.” Marie turned up her nose, jutted out her chin, and gave a half-dozen reasons why a castle was not a suitable place to spend the winter. Castle rooms were cold and drafty, full of poor relatives, servants, and warriors who spent nights on piles of straw in the halls and corridors. A prostitute wouldn’t find a moment’s rest there.

Hiltrud listened to Marie’s reservations and then waved her hand. “Well, I don’t believe all that. No soldier would even dare look askance at his lord’s bed companion. The least he could expect for that would be a good beating.”

Marie disagreed, and the two were soon so caught up in an animated discussion that they looked up in surprise when a soldier with the Arnstein ascendant falcon emblazoned on his chest suddenly stood before them and ordered them to come along. Marie looked at Hiltrud questioningly, then when Hiltrud nodded, reluctantly got up to leave.

“When we get such a friendly invitation, how can we refuse?” she said to the soldier, who gave her a look of complete disgust.

By the time they got there, Berta and the other prostitutes were already crowding around Arnstein’s tent. Though it was relatively large, this tent had no fashionable embellishments save for the tattered flag bearing his coat of arms, unlike the richly decorated tents of other nobles. It had neither a wind deflector, nor a sun blind, nor gaily colored sidewalls. Instead, it was essentially a large square-shaped area covered in strong linen with a gently sloping roof for the water to run off during a rainstorm. The canvas in front of the undecorated entrance was tied up with leather straps, allowing an unobstructed view of the interior, and they could see that the rear third had been separated by a curtain.

Giso stood beside the entrance, observing the crowd of corralled women with obvious repugnance. An older woman in a housekeeper’s austere costume exited the tent, and with a scowl at the jabbering prostitutes, motioned for the men to direct them inside.

Marie let the other women enter first, then stood next to the entrance, watching the curtain and wondering who might be behind it. From time to time, the curtain moved as if someone were peering out.

The housekeeper reentered the tent, then listened in the direction of the curtain. Marie felt her assumption confirmed. Dietmar von Arnstein’s harlot would not be selected by either Giso or the housekeeper, but by the person concealed at the rear of the tent. She whispered her suspicions to Hiltrud, who cast a furtive glance at the curtain.

“I believe you’re right. Who could it be? Count von Arnstein himself? Perhaps he’s deformed and doesn’t want to show himself until he’s made his decision.”

“I agree. Otherwise why would he go to so much trouble to pick someone to sleep with? Surely there’s more than one castle maid willing to warm his bed for him.”

Though the tent was large, it became quite crowded with the ten courtesans and the castle guards. When they had all assembled, two soldiers untied the leather straps and closed the entrance. Then Giso raised his hand and ordered everyone to be silent.

“I have had you all summoned here because my lord needs a woman who will fulfill his physical desires for the next few months. She must agree to move on after that so that she will not endanger the morals of the castle maids.”

From the way he spoke, Marie concluded he was telling only half the story. It sounded like the mistress of the castle didn’t want one of her maids to take her place for the next few months, perhaps making demands she would find unacceptable or proving a future temptation for her husband. A prostitute would take her pay and move on. Or maybe the lady simply wanted to avoid having one more illegitimate child to raise in the castle.

Giso addressed this point straightforwardly. “If the prostitute I select becomes pregnant by my lord during her stay at the castle, she will be allowed to stay until the birth of the child and be reimbursed for her time lost during this period. The lord promises to raise the child along with his servants’ children and care for it thereafter.”

Marie had no plans for a child, no matter who the father was. Gerlind’s contraceptive potion had served her well so far. Hiltrud felt the same way. But some of the other women held out hope of even more money if they presented Count von Arnstein with a male offspring. Among them was Berta, who was standing in front, trying to hustle the other whores aside with her huge body.

Giso pushed her back angrily and ordered the women to form a half circle in front of him. “The woman must be healthy, clean, and have a pleasant disposition.”

“That hardly describes Berta,” Hiltrud whispered into Marie’s ear.

“But it doesn’t describe Fita, either,” Marie replied. As if on cue, Fita began to cough, gasping for air.

The housekeeper turned up her nose. “That woman is sick. She can leave.”

“Did you hear her? Leave.” Berta pushed her loyal companion toward an exit that a soldier opened and then closed after her.

When Berta returned, Marie whispered to her, “You’re a real bitch! After all, Fita is your friend.”

Berta responded with a dirty look, and Marie gasped when Berta’s elbow dug sharply into her ribs.

“Take off your clothes!” the housekeeper commanded.

Berta’s response was so quick that she knocked one of the other women against the wall, causing her to fall. As the other woman struggled to her feet, Berta was already displaying her charms to the steward. Despite her huge size, she still looked pretty good. She had large but well-formed buttocks, and her firm, generously rounded breasts reached out invitingly to Giso.

The other women had also undressed and were looking at Giso. Retreating to the background, only Marie and Hiltrud kept their clothing on.

The housekeeper looked Berta over like meat of questionable freshness, sniffing at her distrustfully. “You can leave, too. I can’t present my lord with something as dirty as you.”

“I can wash up.” Berta made no move to leave.

The housekeeper kicked Berta’s dress. “What you need is something more than just a good washing. After you leave, I’ll have to tell the maids to fumigate the tent walls, or lice and fleas will come here to nest.”

Some of the women giggled while Berta pulled her dress over her head and smoothed it down, her face as red as a beet. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. That fellow there,” she said, jutting her chin out toward the steward, “promised us money just for coming here. I want it now, and so does my friend who just left.”

Marie flared up with rage. “Now all of a sudden Fita is your friend again, even though you couldn’t get rid of her fast enough earlier.”

“That’s none of your damned business.” Berta held her hand out to Giso, and the steward took his purse from his belt, opened it, and tossed her a few coins.

“That’s enough for you. Now clear out.” Gathering up the coins, Berta slipped through a crack in the entrance that a soldier had opened.

“But don’t forget to give Fita her share. I’m going to ask her later,” Marie called out as Berta left.

“Why aren’t the two of you getting undressed?” the housekeeper asked pointedly.

“Come, Marie. If these good people are going to pay, they should get a quick look.” Hiltrud pulled her dress over her head, folded it carefully together, and placed it over her arm.

Marie hesitated for a moment, then did the same, but she stayed in the back of the tent while the housekeeper called up one woman after another, looking at their teeth and grabbing them between the legs to assess their condition. With most of the prostitutes, she shook her head and told Giso to pay them and let them go. The group quickly thinned out until only two other women remained. One was a rather dainty blonde and the other a brunette with an ample figure. Now the housekeeper stepped toward Marie and reached out toward her face with her right hand to examine her teeth, but Marie seized her by the wrist.

“I won’t let you stick your fingers in my face after I’ve seen where they’ve been. If you want to see my teeth, here they are.” She showed off her teeth and tapped them with her knuckles. “As you can see, they are white, healthy, and firmly in place. If you want to confirm that yourself, go and wash your hands.”

“This one was difficult earlier as well.” Giso looked ready to throw Marie out of the tent, and the housekeeper also seemed dismissive. But a few soft words could be heard behind the curtain, and the two hesitated. The housekeeper walked a circle around Marie, then turned to Hiltrud.

“For the time being, the two of you can stay, but I think we’ll take one of the two other whores.”

Marie had no objection to staying because she was curious how it would all end. The voice behind the curtain was clearly that of a woman. Again Marie observed the curtain’s slight movement and pricked up her ears. She thought she heard the words “No, not that one, either,” and wasn’t surprised when the steward handed a few coins to the brunette.

The woman cursed in disappointment. “Your lordship probably thinks he’s something really special. I’ve been mounted by counts and other great men, and they were all happy with me.”

“Get out” was Giso’s only comment. Flying into a rage, the woman was about to scratch his face with her fingernails when suddenly the entrance to the tent opened and a tall soldier grabbed the woman, throwing her out like a bundle of rags. Giso picked up her dress and tossed it out the door after her.

“What a bitch,” he groaned in despair. Marie could see he wished he were somewhere far away.

The housekeeper beckoned the little blonde forward, asking her some questions. The woman didn’t seem to know exactly how to answer and reacted so curtly to some of the questions that Hiltrud nudged Marie with a grin.

“It looks like it’s going to come down to one of us.” The mysterious person seemed to agree, uttering a short cry of disapproval of the blonde. After being paid by Giso and dismissed, the woman looked at the money that was certainly several times what she ordinarily received and shrugged disdainfully.

“They don’t want to take any of us along to their castle,” the woman said to Marie and Hiltrud. “No doubt a few lewd old men are sitting behind the curtain, getting a thrill out of looking at us, or perhaps the knight can’t get it up anymore. But for this kind of money, I’ll give him a special performance,” she said, squeezing out a loud fart as she bent over to pick up her dress. Noticing Giso angrily raising his hand as if to strike her, she ran off, squealing in fright.

“Well, then, now to you two.” Giso was clearly displeased that the only ones left were Marie and Hiltrud, but before he could continue, Marie raised her hand.

“I need to first make something clear. My friend and I have been traveling together for years, and we won’t separate now. It’s either both of us, or neither.”

Giso pounded his fist into his hand. “You’re the most impudent thing I’ve ever come across.”

A strong female voice behind the curtain restrained him. “Be silent, Giso. It’s their right not to want to part company.”

“But we only need one whore for the lord,” the housekeeper said hastily in support of Giso. “A second woman like this at the castle will just drive the men mad.”

The lady simply laughed. “The two of them don’t look that stupid. I think we can manage them.”

The curtain opened and out stepped a lady. As tall as Marie, she was already in her midtwenties, and she wore a broad, embroidered dress that could no longer conceal her rounded, pregnant belly. Her face was neither pretty nor ugly, but seemed pleasant and friendly, and her long, blond braids gave her a majestic appearance.

“I am Mechthild von Arnstein,” she said. “As you see, I am expectant and must avoid my husband’s bed until after the delivery. But I don’t want to leave him all winter long with no one to sleep with.”

Hiltrud looked at her in astonishment. “You’re looking for a whore for your husband? A farm girl would be much cheaper.”

“My husband doesn’t need a woman quivering and almost dying of fear in his bed, but he wants a healthy, robust woman who knows how to give him pleasure.”

“If you’re looking for a strong woman, take my friend Hiltrud,” said Marie as her friend looked at her furiously.

An amused smile played at the corners of the lady’s mouth. “Your companion is an imposing person, but my husband is . . . how shall I say, not the heroic warrior type. He would hardly allow me to bring him a playmate bigger than he is. But I like you, so I picked you out.”

Marie held up her hands dismissively. “Me?”

“What is so strange about that?” the lady asked with a smile. “You are especially good-looking and have a quick tongue.”

“You can certainly say that,” Giso added sharply.

Marie struggled inwardly. Something didn’t seem to be right here. “Why is a lady like you picking out a prostitute for your husband? That’s no job for a Christian wife.”

“That’s no concern of yours, girl,” the housekeeper interrupted, but her mistress beckoned to her to be silent. “I value harmony in my house, and an important part of that is to ensure that my husband won’t become disgruntled because he can’t prove himself as a man. But I also won’t tolerate his flirting with the maids as my father did. Every time my mother was pregnant—as she often was—he bedded one of her maids. The fresh things thought they were important, shirked their duties, and were nasty to my mother.”