The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) (34 page)

XVII.

Marie had been counting on the Arnsteins’ help, and now everything was in shambles. The trial against Uncle Mombert would begin in a few days, and her stomach turned at the very thought of his upcoming torture and public execution. Tears of anger and despair welled up, blinding her, and she felt like a failure. She stumbled into a passerby who then pushed her so hard that she bumped into a horse that reared up, whinnying, and tried to kick her with its front hooves. As she tried to get out of the way, one of the hooves hit her on the shoulder, knocking her to the street amidst the laughter of bystanders. For a moment it appeared the horse would trample her to death, but the rider got control of the animal just in time.

Standing up, she found herself looking into a laughing face framed by a well-groomed blond beard. The man, wearing a jerkin embroidered in gold and silver and emblazoned with the Württemberg coat of arms, leaned over to give her a hand.

“I’ll be damned if you’re not the pretty courtesan from Arnstein Castle!” Count Eberhard gazed at her shapely figure as if he wanted to pull her to him right there. “Are you coming with me?” It sounded like an order.

Marie nodded in confusion, her mind doing cartwheels. Eberhard von Württemberg was no friend of the Keilburgs and would be a much more powerful ally than the Arnsteins. She swore to herself she’d make the count her ally, even if she had to satisfy his every desire.

PART SIX
THE REVOLT OF THE COURTESANS

I.

The little house on the Ziegelgraben was so full of prostitutes that not even a mouse could have squeezed in. Crowded into both rooms on the first floor, a few women had climbed up to Marie’s room and were peering out through the doorway to hear what was being said below. Nevertheless, the house could accommodate fewer than half of the courtesans who showed up, so Madeleine had to open the windows and doors so the people standing outside could hear as well. She herself took a seat atop the reed-covered stove in Hiltrud’s room.

Marie estimated there were almost a hundred women there. In relation to the total number of courtesans working in Constance, that wasn’t very many, but Marie knew that most of the women there were also acting as representatives on behalf of their friends. In any case, they were all there to vent their unhappiness at the conditions in the city. Madeleine listened to each woman’s complaint and kept checking the veracity of each point with the others.

When everyone had spoken, Madeleine raised her hand. “So we’re in agreement that this can’t go on?”

One woman, a recent arrival to town who had come to the meeting more out of curiosity than with a specific complaint, shook her head. “What do you mean, we agree? I haven’t noticed any of these problems. What’s so wrong with a handful of local maids earning a few pennies on the side? My room wasn’t empty today, nor was it yesterday. This whining is a pure waste of time. If I’d stayed home, I could have served a half-dozen customers by now.”

Other courtesans reacted angrily, cursing the new arrival. Madeleine asked them all to be silent and looked at the woman, shaking her head. “It seems you haven’t been listening. We’re not talking about two or three maids. Instead, most of the female servants and many poorer housewives are offering themselves to soldiers and barefoot monks for a few pennies. Even some women in the middle class and their daughters don’t mind servicing knights and clerics for cash. The penny whores in the meadows have the most to lose from this unfair competition, but these so-called honorable women rob us of some of our money, too, and force prices down. What man would be ready to pay a courtesan her proper wage if he could get what he wants in a dark corner for less?”

Kordula pushed her way through the crowd to where the new arrival was standing. “Most important, I don’t see why we have to wear yellow ribbons, or why we’ll be forced to leave Constance right after the council, while these loose local women can stay and play the part of good middle-class housewives after we are gone. Even worse, if all hell breaks loose and these moneygrubbing local women have to suffer our fate, there’ll be so many more prostitutes that most of us will starve.”

Helma clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “This isn’t just about middle-class women and maids selling their bodies. By now, most men believe that every woman and every girl in Constance is just a cheap commodity whose refusal of sex will only drive the price up. Yesterday another young woman was dragged into the bushes by a few men and raped, and by the time the bailiffs arrived, the bastards were long gone.”

“And do you remember what happened three days ago?” another woman called through the window. “A nobleman kidnapped a young girl on her way to church, took her to Überlingen, and is still holding her captive there. This isn’t the first time something like that has happened. Haven’t you heard how the cooper’s daughter was abducted from the tower and since then has been missing without a trace?”

Like most of the women, Marie nodded, but it was hard for her to feign anger. A few days had passed since Hedwig was rescued, but it was still one of the most common conversational topics at the taverns and marketplace. People wondered why the officials hadn’t taken any action or made a more thorough search for the girl and her rescuers. According to Michel, even Hugo von Waldkron, who was still living with Rupert, had not tried to find Hedwig. Marie suspected that the city councilman Alban Pfefferhart had stopped the abbot in order to conceal his part in the evil plot.

For Hedwig’s sake, Marie hoped the meeting would soon end, as the girl had been in her tiny hiding place in the attic for hours with hardly enough room to turn around. It had to be stiflingly hot up there, since Marie was sweating from every pore in spite of the open windows.

Another woman’s voice was so loud, it made Marie jump. “I’m for sending a mission to the kaiser’s governor to explain the situation and ask for help. He’ll have to realize that middle-class housewives should not be competing with us whores.”

Madeleine waved her off. “I’ve already spoken with the governor when he was a guest of my bishop. He didn’t really listen and afterward even made fun of me.”

“Then we simply have to force the man to take us seriously,” a woman called out from Kordula’s room.

Hiltrud, who had remained silent to that point, laughed bitterly. “Force the governor to do something? Only the kaiser can do that, and for people like us, the kaiser is so far removed, he might as well be on the moon.”

“We’ve got to think of something.” Madeleine put a hand to her cheek, thinking hard.

The prostitutes stared at the French woman expectantly, and Marie, too, was wondering what the woman might suggest. If they wanted the governor to listen seriously to their problems, they needed a really spectacular way to get his attention.

Hiltrud tapped Marie on the shoulder. “The clock at Saint Peter’s just struck three. Weren’t you supposed to meet Count Eberhard von Württemberg now?”

Horrified, Marie stared at Hiltrud. “My God, I completely forgot.” Squeezing her way into the hallway, she chased away two women standing on the ladder and climbed into her room. She’d promised to bring the count the last of Jodokus’s documents that day, as she’d already smuggled the rest to him under her skirt, piece by piece. Now she was curious to learn how he planned to use the information against Keilburg and his scheming half brother.

When she got to her room, the women moved back enough for her to open the chest and take out the package for Count von Württemberg. Craning their necks, they turned away in disappointment when all they saw were clothes and some household goods. Wanting to keep her money safely out of the house, since the council had attracted many thieves and burglars to town, she had asked Michel to deposit her savings with a trustworthy banker. She didn’t feel quite right doing that, for it meant putting herself at her childhood friend’s mercy, but he was the only man whom she could halfway trust.

As Marie climbed down the ladder, one of the women asked enviously, “Are you going to see your good-looking lover again?” Since Marie had no desire to tell anyone where she was headed, she just nodded. Downstairs, the women cleared a path for her, grumbling at her early departure because she was just as esteemed by most of them as Madeleine and equally valued as a confidante and adviser.

Dismissing their questions and shouts with an apologetic smile, Marie hurried off. Michel joined her at the next corner, looking grim, and once again she was irritated by his uninvited presence. She felt as if she were being kept under surveillance. “Why pull such a face?” she asked.

Michel looked piqued. “How can I be happy when I’m always worried about you? You run around totally unconcerned for your own safety. But our enemies aren’t asleep. Selmo’s been lurking around, looking for the people who stole the girl from him. Warn Hedwig to stay out of sight, and especially to keep away from the harlots hanging around your house. Most of them would probably be glad to turn her over to Abbot Hugo—and you to your former fiancé—for a few pieces of silver.”

Marie looked at him in surprise and smiled apologetically. Had she been so careless, or was Michel just imagining things? In any case, she appreciated his concern and resolved to be welcoming in bed the next time.

But today she had no time for him, as Count Eberhard von Württemberg was a very demanding lover and probably wouldn’t let her leave until evening. As he paid her generously every time she visited him, she’d be able to get through the coming winter very comfortably with his money. At least this year she didn’t need to worry about shelter, as the council would continue through the cold winter months, and she’d even make more in the winter than in the other seasons, for the chilly weather would drive the noblemen into the warm beds of the courtesans and willing middle-class women.

The moral conditions of the city and its double standards angered Marie—not out of fear of losing business but instead due more to local women’s nonchalant attitudes and their husbands’ support in tossing aside all sense of decency. Marie was not the only innocent woman to be unjustly accused, and even the prostitutes who had been punished according to the law hadn’t usually been as promiscuous as the honorable ladies in the city who always gathered up their skirts whenever they encountered a courtesan.

Michel tugged at her sleeve. “You don’t seem to be in a very good mood yourself.”

Marie shrugged. “I have some things on my mind, most of them not especially pleasant. Have you found a way to smuggle Hedwig out of the city yet? She’ll get sick if she has to remain in her narrow, hot hiding place.”

Regretfully, Michel spread out his arms. “It wouldn’t be hard to smuggle her out, but I don’t know where we can take her. As an unmarried woman, she’ll be considered wanton and treated accordingly. And if we put her in a nunnery, Abbot Hugo would find out.”

Marie pressed her lips together. It appeared that they couldn’t take her cousin somewhere safe as long as Mombert was imprisoned and awaiting trial, which was one of the reasons she’d be doing everything she could to please Eberhard von Württemberg. The count was currently the only person on earth who was not only willing but also able to help her and her relatives.

To Michel’s chagrin, they arrived all too quickly at the house where the count and his retinue were staying. Townspeople gossiped that the count had threatened the former residents into moving away while the council was in session, although Marie knew that the owner of the house had probably just succumbed to the rich count’s offer of a purse full of Württemberg guilders. The count was so pleased that the rumor was going around, however, that he even allowed his own people to spread it.

By Constance standards, it was an imposing building with a ground floor made of large blocks of hewn stone, two projecting half-timbered stories covered with elaborately worked carvings, and an unusually large attic. Unlike the yellowish bull’s-eye glass windows produced locally, these windows were made of an imported Murano glass that was so transparent as to be almost invisible. If the residents wanted to see who was passing by on the street, they didn’t have to open the windows, Marie mused as she walked up to the carved wood door, knocked, and was let in by a servant.

Without taking his eyes off the house, Michel gulped down the mug of wine he had purchased from a traveling merchant. Though he knew that she would ordinarily have received at least half a dozen customers over the course of the day if she had been at home, it still bothered him that she offered herself so willingly to the infamous womanizer. Michel leaned against a wall, staring intently at the brick walls of the count’s residence.

Eberhard received Marie in his bedroom. The curtains of his four-poster bed were pulled back, revealing the elaborately carved, cherrywood bedposts. The red silk bedcovers bore his coat of arms, and that same leaping stag also adorned all the wall hangings and curtains in the room. The largest tapestry symbolically depicted a huge sixteen-point stag hurling a careless hunter to the ground. Württemberg was no beast of prey threatening others, but rather he stood ready to defend himself against any attacker.

Though the count didn’t exactly look like a nobleman in his underwear and open shirt, Marie curtsied when she entered. “I brought along the other documents, my lord,” she said, handing him the bundle.

Count Eberhard looked briefly at the little package before setting it down dismissively on a tabletop inlaid with the Württemberg stag. His gaze wandered longingly across her anxious face, paused for a moment on the two well-formed little hills beneath her blouse, and seemed then to cut through the material of her skirt. Knowing that all he could think of now was a little tussle in bed, she opened her blouse and pulled it over her head as the bulge in Count Eberhard’s trousers swelled and he started breathing harder, passing his tongue over his lips.

Marie had learned more about how to increase a man’s passion until he could hardly bear it, and her charms were sufficient to almost drive the Württemberg count to madness. As she continued undressing, unconsciously moving in a sort of mysterious dance, the count could no longer restrain himself. He jumped up, seized her, and threw her on the bed, and before she could catch her breath, he had penetrated her impetuously.