The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) (19 page)

V.

The next morning, Marie found some dry grass and bushes near their camping site and was able to rekindle their fire, cooking a few pancakes with the remaining fat, flour, and honey. Berta, who had a good sense of smell, raised her head and sniffed. Her persistence was rewarded, as Hiltrud finally handed her one of the pancakes even though there weren’t enough for both Marie and herself. Berta’s gratitude went no farther than telling the others that Marie and Hiltrud had nothing left for them.

As the two broke camp, packing up and preparing to move on, Märthe stepped in front of Hiltrud and placed her hands on her hips. “Normally traveling companions share everything. But you seem to be saving all of the goodies for yourselves.”

“You get back what you put into the common pot.” “Hiltrud replied. “You want to take advantage of there being four of you in order to take a quarter of our earnings. You can’t expect us to thank you for that.”

“Then it’s about time you started earning some money,” Märthe shot back.

Berta reared up alongside Märthe, trying to look fiercer than she was. “And you should hand over a quarter of what you earned in Saint Marien am Stein.”

Hiltrud couldn’t be intimidated. “Our association began the moment we left Saint Marien. I don’t see any reason to give you money we already earned there.”

Making a face, Gerlind pounded her walking stick on the ground. “As you will.” It sounded almost like a threat.

Hiltrud shrugged and walked around Berta and Märthe without saying a word. The goats followed her, bleating, so the other women had to jump aside so the cart wouldn’t roll over their feet.

Shortly after noon, they arrived at the little city of Wallfingen. Gerlind and her companions set up their tents and waited for customers. Marie and Hiltrud did the same, but more to ensure privacy than to entertain customers, as the market in Wallfingen was too small to attract many travelers, and the townspeople had access to girls in the local brothels. The two friends were nonetheless in a good mood and weren’t even annoyed that the market supervisor immediately swooped down on them like a falcon to collect their market tax.

Marie and Hiltrud smiled at each other when the sound of Berta’s cursing drowned out even the bellowing of the animals. She was offended because the market supervisor refused to accept the taxes in the form she offered.

“I’d prefer money,” she heard the man reply, laughing. “And as far as your merchandise is concerned, I’d rather take the goods from that young woman.” He pointed at Marie and raised his eyebrows in question. Marie didn’t take him up on his offer, however, handing him tax money rather than letting him into her tent.

Taking her basket from the cart, she headed through the city gate and continued down the busy street to the market square. While most people gave her a wide berth after glimpsing her yellow ribbons, the market women and merchants at the stands were not averse to exchanging a few friendly words. Marie took her time, enjoyed the shopping, and returned with an overflowing basket and a sack of flour over her shoulder. When she arrived at their tent, the unpleasant expression on Hiltrud’s face told her that something had happened, but before she could ask, Gerlind came running toward them. She had a middle-aged craftsman in tow, judging by his expensive beaver-skin cap and long, fur-lined coat.

“Here you are finally! Get to work, Marie. The gentleman here wants a pretty bed companion, and I advised him to wait for you. Hurry to your tent so he can sleep with you.”

Marie stared at her in disbelief. “What did you say?”

“Sleep with him. He has already paid, and you’ll get your share later.”

Gerlind started pushing her toward her tent, but Marie was having none of it. She pushed back and raised her hand as if about to strike the old woman.

“Have you gone mad? I choose my own customers. And they pay me and no one else, do you understand? If the man wants a roll in the hay, let him take you or Märthe. In any case, he’s not getting into my tent.”

The man listened to the argument with visible displeasure. “What’s this all about? They promised me a pretty whore, and that’s what I paid for. So hurry up, girl. I don’t have all day.”

He grabbed Marie’s arm with a tight grip and started pulling her into the tent. Furious, she reached into her skirt and unsheathed the sharp knife she carried, holding it against the man’s stomach.

“Take your hands off me if you ever want to sard a woman again!” she snarled at him.

The man looked at the knife and let go. Stepping back, he opened his mouth, about to explode with anger, but then stared at Marie wide-eyed. Closing his mouth, he made the sign of the cross.

“By the Holy Virgin and Saint Pelagius, this can’t be true. Is it really you?”

Blankly, Marie looked at the man who had turned as white as a sheet. But then it dawned on her. “You . . . You are Jörg Wölfling, the cooper from Constance.”

“And you are Matthis Schärer’s daughter, Marie, who was driven out of Constance.”

“After they slandered, raped, and whipped me,” she added bitterly.

This was the moment she had feared most. She was so ashamed at being seen as a prostitute by one of her father’s friends that she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. But she quickly got control of herself and shook off her trepidation. After all, she wasn’t here through any fault of her own but because Rupert had ruined her, and Master Jörg hadn’t lifted a finger to help her.

The cooper pointed at the knife Marie was still holding threateningly in her hand. “Put that thing away, and let’s talk like reasonable people.”

Marie nodded and slipped the little knife back into its sheath.

“Tell me how you’ve been doing. We’ve thought a lot about you in the last four years.” Wölfling sniffled like a child and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Marie did not know what to say. She wanted nothing more than to run away, but at the same time she had a thousand questions.

Using his sleeve, Wölfling dried the tears now running down his cheeks. “My God, Marie, it’s a miracle you’re still alive! How happy Mombert will be.”

Marie stiffened and shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want anyone to learn about me. No one needs to know I still exist, do you understand?”

Master Jörg reached for one of the yellow ribbons on her skirt and nodded sadly. “I understand, but nonetheless your uncle would be thrilled to hear from you.”

“It would be better if you’d keep our meeting to yourself, but I would be grateful if you could tell me how my relatives are.”

“I’d be glad to do that.” Master Jörg took Marie gently by the sleeve. “Come, let’s take a seat over there by the wine stand in the shade. It’ll be easier to talk with a pitcher of red wine.”

“I don’t think they’ll allow me to sit down there.”

Master Jörg dismissed the thought in consideration of the important person he was and led Marie toward the stand. As they walked up, the barkeep frowned and murmured that the master should take his whore elsewhere.

Wölfling opened his purse and gave the barkeep several coins. “A big pitcher of your best wine and two cups.”

The barkeep couldn’t resist the look of the shining silver pieces. “Take a seat over there,” he said, pointing to a bench off to the side where they could talk without being disturbed. Taking the pitcher filled to the brim with the best Rhine wine and two cups, they walked to the bench, lost in thought.

Wölfling raised his glass to Marie with a sad smile. “It’s really just by chance that we met today. I would never have come here if the kaiser hadn’t ordered the three popes to come to Constance to settle the problems of Christianity with a council. Because of that, we can’t keep up with barrel orders, and the Constance coopers’ guild asked me to come here to negotiate with the makers here for the delivery of more.”

Marie nodded congenially even though she wasn’t really interested in the barrel makers’ problems. “It’s surely an act of fate. But do tell me, Master Jörg, how is my uncle?”

Wölfling raised his hand hesitantly. “He is well, and his business is doing better than ever since word got out about the council.”

“He wasn’t doing so badly beforehand, either.”

Master Jörg sighed deeply. “That was before your misfortune. After that, things looked bad for him for a while, as his trials against Counselor Rupert Splendidus almost financially ruined him. Of course, you can’t know that your former fiancé confiscated all of your father’s possessions with the episcopal court’s help. Mombert lost each of the three times he took Rupert to court. Finally he tried to retrieve your mother’s dowry, but Rupert kept presenting documents to dispute Mombert’s claims.”

Marie wasn’t surprised as she had heard enough about how Rupert dealt with his opponents, but she continued asking questions. “What do you know about my father? Back then I hoped he would look for me and pick me out of the gutter.”

She looked at him intently, as she still hoped the sheepshearer had lied to Giso to get more wine out of him.

Helplessly, Master Jörg spread out his arms. “I’m terribly sorry for you, child! No one saw your father after that dreadful day. Master Rupert claimed that Matthis Schärer had bequeathed him all his possessions and gone to the Holy Land to atone for your sins. Some said he had left on a pilgrimage to Rome, and others said they had met him somewhere in Flanders, still looking for you. I tend more to believe what the sheepshearer Anselm said before he drowned in the Rhine.”

Marie felt a tightness in the pit of her stomach. “Anselm is dead?”

“Yes, it was bound to happen. A few foolish wagon drivers were plying him with drinks, and on the way to Gottlieben he fell into the Rhine. If his corpse hadn’t been found floating in the water, no one would have ever known what happened to him. But apparently, shortly before he died, he had told a stranger he’d helped bury your father in potter’s field. Marie, child, I’m so sorry for you, but I’m afraid the old drunk may have been telling the truth.”

Marie gasped, sure that the stranger was Giso. And she knew that Anselm’s death was no accident. Even though most people in Constance paid no attention to a drunk’s blatherings, she was convinced that Rupert and his accomplices had silenced him. She wondered if Utz was involved, having goaded a few friends into plying the old man with alcohol.

Shuddering, Marie dried a few tears. “My father never would have left his possessions to Rupert, so I can assume he’s dead.”

Wölfling placed his hand on Marie’s shoulder. “Master Matthis loved you very much, Marie, and he would never have abandoned you. I’m ashamed to say that I was jealous of your father and the wealth he had accumulated as a bondsman’s grandson, while my family had to fight for survival even though we had played a leading role in the last civil war against the nobles. That was the reason I didn’t lift a hand to help you, and I have been severely punished for that.

“The reputation of my ancestors had secured me a city council seat, and I lost that forever because of you. The other council members accused me of allowing Counselor Rupert to take you before the episcopal court instead of the city courts, as was your right. But it all happened so fast. Before I could clear my head, you had already been driven from town, your father had disappeared, and Rupert had taken possession of your house.”

Judging from his bitter tone, Wölfling was less concerned about her misfortune than about the loss of his council seat, which came with all kinds of honors. She was unforgiving enough not to lament his fall from the ranks of the privileged, as she hadn’t forgotten how elated he and Master Gero had been to find the incriminating piece of jewelry in her bedroom.

Keeping her feelings hidden, she continued questioning Master Jörg, learning a bit more about what had happened in Constance since her banishment. “Mombert and his wife feel blessed to have Hedwig, who has turned out to be a very pretty girl. She looks like your younger sister, Marie, though I must say you have become even more beautiful in the last few years. If I had enough money, I’d buy you a house on the Rhine and keep you there as my lover.” He shook his head and sighed, wondering what was left to tell Marie.

“By the way, do you remember Michel, the son of the taverner? The boy must have really loved you since he left town that terrible day to follow you. But the two bailiffs played a trick on him, sending him in the wrong direction. His father went to search for him but lost track of him in Diessenhofen, and it’s said he signed onto a ship headed for Holland.”

“At least one person believed in me!” Marie exclaimed.

She tried in vain to picture Michel’s face. Though she couldn’t remember what he looked like, she could still clearly remember his voice that evening when he warned her about Rupert. The boy must have understood her fiancé better than her father, who had been blinded by the honor of having his daughter marry the son of a count. Marie silently hoped that Michel had been led astray, forced to wander homeless along the highway; at the same time she feared he might have paid for his loyalty to her with his life, as sailors were a notoriously rough crowd and the Rhine had pulled many down into its depths. Or Rupert might also have had Michel killed. Shedding a few tears for her former playmate, Marie nodded at Master Jörg. “I thank you for the news and ask you to please leave me to myself now. I need to think about all that I’ve learned today.”

“I understand. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you better news. Do you really not want me to tell your uncle about our meeting?”

Marie nodded. Wölfling wondered if he should tell Mombert anyway, then decided it was better to keep quiet. He knew that if he spoke about seeing Marie, Counselor Rupert might get wind of it, and he didn’t want to have anything to do with that man.

He poured the last of the wine into his cup. Since Marie had only a little to drink, most of the wine had disappeared into his portly paunch, making him sentimental. He remembered all the meals to which Marie’s father had invited him, and he was struck by a bad conscience. Suddenly Marie seemed as beautiful and pure as a saint. What a virtuous and exemplary citizen she could have become! He despised himself for his weakness. Since his negotiations in Wallfingen had made him a nice sum, he impulsively undid the clasps fastening his full money bag to his belt. Opening the purse, he handed everything in it to Marie.