The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) (12 page)

Lady Mechthild’s next words reminded her of her position here, however, and brought her back to reality. “This is Marie, the whore I picked out for you. Do you like her?”

Dietmar von Arnstein cast a perturbed glance her way. “How can you be thinking about her right now? What’s important is the wrong the Keilburgs have inflicted on us. Konrad and his repulsive half brother harassed old Otmar until he finally gave in and signed an agreement favoring Konrad, but it won’t do him any good this time.”

One of the noblemen came forward. “You should be glad, my lady. Your husband told us he gave Abbot Adalwig at Saint Ottilien a copy of the countersigned testament for safekeeping. Even Count Konrad won’t be able to contradict the word of Abbot Adalwig.”

Marie didn’t think it wise to mention such things where anyone could hear. The lady seemed to be thinking the same thing as she cast a peeved glance at her husband and gave the order to move on. Quickly approaching the castle, the wagons wound their way toward the left tower, clattered across a bridge over a deep moat, and passed beneath a menacing row of machicoulis through which molten lead or boiling oil could be poured on an approaching enemy. At the other end of the wall, the road turned sharply to the right toward the gate in the second tower.

As Marie walked through the gate, she looked up with some dread at the imposing iron bars of the portcullis. Behind the gate was the outer ward between the outer castle wall and an almost equally strong inner wall. From here, the only way leading farther into the castle was another strongly fortified gate. In peaceful times, the outer ward was used for grazing cattle, but it was now occupied by men and animals from the abandoned village.

The lord of the castle informed his wife that the Keilburgs had made a number of forays from Mühringen Castle, which they had taken from Sir Otmar, to menace the village belonging to the Arnsteins. This fact, along with their blocking of the road, pointed to an as-yet undeclared feud. Marie found herself in the midst of events linking Rupert with her own fate, and she wondered how she could use this situation to her advantage. As a wandering harlot, she could hardly expect support from the noblemen, but no one could prevent her from keeping her eyes and ears open. Perhaps she could gain the lord’s confidence and explain to him the insidious ways in which Counselor Rupert had been deceiving people.

In the meantime, the column of wagons had reached the interior ward, only a third the size of the outer one and surrounded by houses and stables constructed of large, rough-hewn blocks of stone. In the middle stood another gated tower protected by moats and a drawbridge just like the outer tower. The three wagons passed through this gate as well, finally stopping in a small courtyard between the main buildings of the castle. The lady of the castle was lifted out of her carriage by her husband, who instructed the servants to take her luggage and purchases to her rooms. Before she entered the tower, Lady Mechthild beckoned to Marie.

“Guda will show you and your friend to a stable for your goats and then take you to your rooms. You will reside adjacent to my quarters so that I may reach you at all times.”

Before Marie could reply, the lady turned away. The housekeeper, not pleased with the extra work, shooed Marie and Hiltrud off in front of her like farm animals.

III.

Marie had expected to be shown to a modest room just large enough for two sacks of straw, but Guda instead took the two women to a clean, spacious room larger than the one her father had at home for visitors. There was a bed for two people and a huge trunk big enough to fit all of Hiltrud’s and her things several times over. The floor was carpeted with strips of cloth sewn together, promising warm feet in the winter. The most unusual thing, however, was the elaborately decorated tile stove with a bench running around it covered with little woolen cushions. There was also a table, its top fashioned from a single piece of beechwood, and three chairs of the same wood. The value of the furnishings was only surpassed by the two narrow windows of shimmering yellow glass that bathed the room in soft daylight. The wooden frames could easily be opened—something that Hiltrud tried right away—with a view into the castle courtyard as well as over the walls and out into the countryside.

“This is magnificent,” Hiltrud said, visibly impressed. “I’ve never lived in such elegant surroundings. I really hope we can spend the winter here.”

“What would keep us from doing that?”

“Well, maybe this damned feud. As long as Dietmar is fighting with the Keilburgs, he won’t be looking for caresses from you.”

Marie shared this concern. If Sir Dietmar decided he didn’t need her anymore, he could throw her out onto the street. Under different circumstances, this wouldn’t have worried her at all. As long as the autumn was still somewhat warm, they could get along fine, but she would now lose the first chance she’d had in nearly four years to learn something about her former fiancé’s plans.

For the next two hours, Marie fretted about how she might be evicted from the castle on a moment’s notice. The view out the window was anything but encouraging, as Dietmar’s people and his allies’ horsemen were everywhere. Marie tried to count the soldiers, but she couldn’t tell the men apart in their war costumes, and she stopped trying when she noticed she had counted some of them twice. She was certain, however, there were more than a hundred armed warriors in the castle. Finally it became too much for Hiltrud. “Won’t you sit down? Your running back and forth is driving me to distraction.”

Marie perched on a chair, wrapping her arms around her knees, as if she had to hold on to something. Jumping at every sound, she alternated looking between the door and the window even though the sky was all she could see from where she was sitting.

Putting her hands on her hips, Hiltrud finally walked over to her. “Why are you so worked up? You’re acting like a chicken whose eggs have been stolen from her nest.”

Marie shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself even more tightly. “It’s about Count Konrad von Keilburg. I have to learn more about him.”

“What is it about him that interests you?”

“About him, nothing. It’s his half brother who concerns me.”

Hiltrud, puzzled, stared at her for a moment with raised eyebrows. “Tell me, is this your former fiancé, Rupert Splendidus, of whom Giso spoke?”

Marie clenched her fists. “I’m sure of it. Do you understand now how terrible it would be for me if we had to leave right now?”

“Can’t you think of anything but your revenge?” Hiltrud sounded somewhat amused. She’d had to remind Marie often enough that a wandering harlot was powerless against such a high-and-mighty nobleman, but now she felt like she’d been banging her head against a brick wall.

Marie had heard Hiltrud’s reservations so often over the past few years that she could rattle them off by heart. “I know what you’re going to tell me. But I’ve got to think it over.”

Dwelling on Rupert’s trickery, she wondered how she might win over Lady Mechthild and her husband as allies.

No longer able to stand the tense silence, Hiltrud went to the door. “I’m going to see if we can get something to eat. Last night there was nothing but water, and nothing this morning, either.”

Just as she was about to step into the hall, two maids approached, carrying trays. A tempting aroma of warm bread and other delicious smells emanated from one tray; on the other stood a clay mug and two cups.

“With best wishes from the lady,” one announced cheerfully. “Lady Mechthild regrets you had to wait so long, but first she had to attend to her husband and his honored guests.”

Hiltrud’s mouth watered when she saw the thick slices of smoked ham, enormous sausages, and the large piece of cheese that lay on the tray next to half a loaf of bread. After one of the maids had filled the cups, Hiltrud opened her eyes wide in astonishment. “That looks like wine.”

The older maid nodded proudly. “This is the wine from the vineyards that Lady Mechthild brought to her marriage in her dowry.” Remembering her father’s vineyards near Meersburg, Marie felt a wave of grief wash over her. Swallowing her tears, she trembled with hatred, her fingers squeezing tightly shut. Rupert and his accomplices had taken so much from her! She struggled to return the maids’ parting farewell, and despite her gnawing hunger, it took her a while before she took a first bite.

Hiltrud forgot Marie’s distress as she happily dug into the food. “This may be the best meal I’ve ever had. Isn’t it glorious?” When there was no reply, she nudged Marie with her foot. “Say something, won’t you? Or aren’t you hungry?”

Marie took a deep breath, and a reflective smile crossed her lips. “I think we’ll stay, unless Lady Mechthild is just making our farewell more bearable with these treats.”

“A little bowl of stew from the servants’ kitchen would have been enough for that. No, I’m sure they’ll keep us here. If you’re smart and don’t annoy the lord and lady with your sad story, we might just spend the most pleasant winter of our lives here.”

Marie wanted to tell Hiltrud how many agreeable winters she had spent growing up, but she didn’t want to spoil her friend’s good mood. Curious about what would come next, Marie looked at the door anxiously every time she heard steps in the hallway. But no one seemed to be interested in her. After a while, the two maids returned and cleared the table. Since the wine pitcher was almost empty, they brought in a new one.

Hiltrud asked the maids where the toilet was and learned it was right around the corner. “As far as I’m concerned, it can continue like this until the spring.”

Marie shrugged. “Remember, we’re not here just to eat and drink wine.”

“I hardly believe Sir Dietmar will call for you tonight. He seemed too angry to be interested in the joys of life.”

“Just the same, I want to be ready.”

“Do as you like. I’m going to the stable to check on the goats. It’s time to milk them. I’ll ask the maids if the lady likes goat’s milk. It’s supposed to be good for pregnant women.”

Marie watched as she left, then sighed deeply. She really liked her companion, but her wordy enthusiasm sometimes got on her nerves. She poured herself more wine, diluted it with three parts water, and took little sips. She mustn’t get drunk, as she wanted to make the best possible impression on Sir Dietmar and Lady Mechthild.

When the door opened after a while, she thought at first that Hiltrud had returned, but it was the two maids bringing a tub of water. The younger one, a perky girl who only reached Marie’s chin, ran out again and came back shortly with a wash rag and a piece of soap.

“The lady said you must wash up.”

Marie wanted to wait until the two had left, but they stood unmoving. Shrugging, Marie pulled her dress over her head. What difference did it make if the two maids saw her naked? She was accustomed to that at home. But in the last few years she had always tried to wash early enough in the morning that no one would see her, and she only undressed in front of her customers if they paid extra.

The maids followed Marie’s every move as if to check that she had washed herself thoroughly.

The younger one beamed with joy. “You’re as beautiful as an angel. Come, let me help you wash your hair.”

Untying Marie’s braid, they discovered the fine white scars on her back and let out shocked cries.

“Someone beat you pretty badly.” There was a tone of disgust in the younger maid’s voice, as if someone had debased a saint.

Marie laughed brightly but soon turned serious again. “They tied me to the pillory and whipped me. If there hadn’t been a good apothecary to treat me with ointments and tinctures, my back would look like the bark of an old pine tree today.”

“You are surely very thankful to the friendly gentleman for that.”

“Oh, indeed I am.” Marie smiled to herself. Every time she went to the Merzlingen fair, she took the apothecary into her tent. He enjoyed it, but remained loyal to Hiltrud. Just then, Marie saw that Guda had entered the room. The housekeeper sniffed at the two maids standing around.

“Keep working, you lazy wenches. The lady ordered the courtesan to be brought to the master’s bedroom.”

After wrapping Marie in a sheet, the maids were leading her out when Guda stopped them and pulled a little bottle from her bag. When she opened the bottle, the entire room smelled of roses. She dabbed a drop behind Marie’s ear, then closed the bottle again carefully.

“That is the lady’s perfume. She wants you to smell just like her when she takes you to her husband,” the housekeeper declared, pushing her toward the door.

Marie remembered the salves and spices that her father had traded. Sometimes he had opened one of the bottles and let her take a whiff. Then he would tell her that he would buy her only the finest fragrances when she was grown up. Now, for the first time she was experiencing how rose oil felt on her skin, but instead of bringing her pleasure, it was only part of her job. She was here to satisfy the wants of Sir Dietmar. Or were they those of the lady? The thought amused her.

The knight’s bedroom was at the other end of the hallway. When Marie was led in, Dietmar von Arnstein and his wife were standing in the middle of a room furnished much like the room she and Hiltrud were in but slightly larger. The carpeting here was more richly ornate, and a number of intricately painted wardrobes stood along the walls. In one corner was a pile of things that Lady Mechthild had obviously purchased at the fair but hadn’t yet had time to put away. Marie wasn’t surprised, as most of the lady’s time seemed occupied with trying to care for and calm down her gloomy husband.

He turned his back to Guda and Marie and snapped at his wife. “Damn it, Mechthild. I don’t need your whore!”

Smiling softy, his wife caressed his face. “But you do, now more than ever! You’re a strong man who can’t do without a woman for long. I was gone for two weeks, and even before that I couldn’t satisfy you as much as you deserve.”

“I am completely satisfied with you,” Dietmar protested, “and I don’t want any other woman.”

Lady Mechthild rubbed her cheek against his well-shaven chin. “I know that, my dear. No woman has a better husband than I. So allow me for once to think of your own good. It will be better for me and for our child that I’m carrying if I know you are happy.”

“How can I be happy when a neighbor like Keilburg is just outside my gates?” the knight snorted.

His wife just smiled and turned his head around so he would have to look at Marie. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

She said it with such pride that her husband had to laugh. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mechthild. What will you do if I keep the beautiful whore and send you back to your father?”

“You certainly won’t do that, as I would be taking your unborn son along.”

The knight took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “I love you, Mechthild, and don’t wish to offend you by sleeping with another woman.”

“You’ll offend me if you don’t sleep with Marie. I picked her out especially for you.” Lady Mechthild sniffled a bit and pretended to be offended, while giving Marie a conspiratorial wave.

Mechthild’s husband was fooled by her act, and looked like a chastened puppy with his tail between his legs. “All right, then, I’ll take her, if only to make you happy. But I have to go back to my friends in the great hall soon. They’re waiting for me.”

“Oh, the gentlemen there are already consoling themselves with a few drops from our wine cellar, and I don’t think they’re ready for serious discussions this evening.” Mechthild stood on her toes, kissed her husband on the tip of his nose, and walked toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone now but will be back later.”

Dietmar von Arnstein nodded and was about to undress when something else occurred to him. “Tell me, woman, how are you so sure the child will be a boy?”

“I lit a candle for the Madonna of Saint Ottilien, asking her to send us a son. Abbot Adalwig assured me that the Madonna would hear my prayers.”

The knight threw back his head and laughed. “I’d have nothing against a son and heir, but when I see you like this, it makes me wish it’s a girl. That would put a crimp in your pride, woman. Recently you’ve had your nose pretty far up in the air.”

The deeply loving look he gave his wife as he said that made Marie envious, for she realized she’d probably never know that kind of affection.

Mechthild gave her a sign, and Marie removed her sheet, presenting her full glory to the knight. Dietmar’s eyes sparkled, but instead of pulling her down onto the bed, he jokingly asked his wife to help him remove his shirt. With agile fingers, Mechthild untied the laces, kissed him, and quickly left the room before he could detain her again.

The lord of the castle turned to Marie and pointed with his chin to the bed. She lay down, and he passed his hands over her body, examining her, while she fought the usual feeling of being just an object that anyone could use for a few coins. It was clear to her, however, that she was doing the knight an injustice with such thoughts. He said nothing but didn’t hold her as roughly or as lustfully as other men did.

When he lay down on her, he supported himself with his elbows and didn’t use his weight to press her into the pillows. Dietmar wasn’t as gentle as Herbmann, but he also wasn’t thinking only of his own pleasure. Marie felt nothing but was simply happy he didn’t hurt her, and she pretended to be excited in thanks for his consideration.