The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) (9 page)

“Very good, Marie. A prostitute should always be clean.” Gerlind’s expression showed her words were mostly directed at Berta, and they hit their mark.

“Some of the guys stank pretty bad,” Berta said, snorting as she pulled up her skirt to wash between her legs.

Marie pushed her way against the current to Hiltrud and touched her on the arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Surprised, Hiltrud looked up. She could sense Marie’s inner struggle and understood that something must have happened. Marie no longer seemed so desperate; there was now a startling strength and determination in her eyes. Remembering that one of the wagon trains was from Constance, Hiltrud hoped that Marie had heard news to dispel any false hopes of salvation.

Passing her hand gently through Marie’s hair, Hiltrud walked back toward the shore with her. “You can talk with me anytime, child.”

Marie closed her eyes and felt the current in the river only tugging gently at her. No, she wouldn’t find a fast, merciful death here, and surprisingly, she didn’t long for it anymore. Instead, she wanted more than anything else to send Rupert and Utz—and especially Linhard, that spineless traitor—to hell, and she hoped they would get there long before she did. To do that, she would have to accept a fate that just a few hours ago had seemed worse than death. She looked at her companion and took a deep breath.

“I’m ready to work, Hiltrud. But there are a lot of things you’ll have to teach me.”

PART THREE
ARNSTEIN CASTLE

I.

Just after dawn, the market’s streets of stalls were still empty and the booths were covered. Most of the merchants and travelers were asleep in their tents or beneath their wagons. A few early risers of both sexes were bathing unabashedly in the river, though most of the women blushed and moved away when some of the men started telling dirty jokes.

Marie had washed with Hiltrud long before the others had arrived. She was now sitting on a blanket in front of her tent, enjoying the warm sun and patching a rip in her dress. Before long, charcoal fires were lit, and Hulda put some bratwurst on the grill in front of her snack stand, the delicious aroma floating through the market. As Marie stood up to walk toward the tantalizing scent, Hiltrud came out of her tent.

“It looks like you can’t wait for Hulda to have the first bratwursts ready.”

“There’s nothing better than a bratwurst in the morning, especially since the ones they make here are some of the best.”

“They taste just as good everywhere,” said Hiltrud, teasing her. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you a few.”

Marie watched her friend leave, thinking that bratwurst was one of the rare pleasures she could afford. More than three years had passed since Hiltrud had picked her up half-dead at the side of the road and taken her along with her. In those three years, Marie had learned to scorn the respectable world and appreciate the friendship of those the world cast aside. Ever since she’d been on the road with Hiltrud, she had learned to be happy with very little, and the memories of her earlier life seemed more and more like those of a distant childhood. But neither time nor anything else had been able to relieve the bitterness that had lodged in her heart after her shameful verdict.

Sometimes Marie had to force herself not to run off to Constance and denounce the venerable authorities there for their injustice. When an especially inconsiderate customer was lying on top of her, she clenched her fists and thought about how much money she would need to pay someone to kill her former fiancé and his conspirators. When she spoke with Hiltrud about it, she derided Marie’s fantasy or even scolded her. But Marie could only tolerate her life by clinging to a hope that she could one day take her revenge on the men who had done this to her—and she would not forget the slanderous widow Euphemia.

“Are you still dreaming about wringing the neck of that fellow Rupert?” Hiltrud’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Instead of answering, Marie took two of the bratwursts her friend held out on a serving board, juggling them in her hands because they were so hot.

“Glutton.” Hiltrud looked at Marie and shook her head, then sat down beside her in the grass. Lost in thought, the two women ate breakfast. Hiltrud was concerned that Marie’s obsessions would someday be her downfall. She had seen too many courtesans go mad or kill themselves because they couldn’t cope with memories of their former lives and the real or imaginary injustices inflicted upon them. She hoped Marie would gradually come to her senses, but thus far neither Hiltrud’s scolding nor pleading had made her friend see that the world was simply unjust—and that it was necessary to forget the past.

Marie regretted causing Hiltrud to worry, as she didn’t want to make her friend unhappy. From the very outset, Hiltrud had been a good and caring companion, never treating her like a maid or forcing her to do anything intolerable. She remembered how the experienced courtesan had chosen Marie’s first customer very carefully. He had been a pleasant and tender gentleman who had treated her very considerately. Nevertheless, she had submitted to the sex act with tightened fists, clenched teeth, and closed eyes. Without Gerlind’s potion, which let her float in a cloud of indifference, she would have fled his embrace.

In the days following, she had used the drug every time until Hiltrud finally took it away, almost leading to their first big argument. But even then, Hiltrud showed great patience, repeatedly explaining that the drug was addictive and destroyed both the mind and body when taken regularly.

It was initially difficult for Marie to do without the medicine, and sometimes when she had an unpleasant customer, she still longed for the drug. Though she was in the fortunate situation of being able to select her customers, not everyone lived up to her expectations. Sometimes an outwardly polite and courtly man proved to be a depraved character for whom the woman underneath him was just an object he had bought for a few coins.

Marie couldn’t help thinking of Berta, who would proudly display her black-and-blue marks if her pay was higher than usual. Inadvertently she glanced over at her former traveling companion’s tent. She and Hiltrud had traveled the country with Berta, Fita, and Gerlind for two summers, but at the Rheinau autumn market, Berta had started a jealous quarrel that Hiltrud and Marie were attracting better customers, and she left the group. Fita, who clung to Berta like a dog, went with her while Gerlind stayed with Hiltrud and Marie.

That winter, Gerlind decided to give up her wandering life and stay behind in the cabin that the three had rented for a few pennies in the fall and had furnished comfortably. Gerlind’s intention was to work there as an herbal medicine woman and, as she said with a giggle, take on a young girl as a maid and a source of income. Marie wondered if she’d ever see the old woman again. She hadn’t expected to see Berta and Fita, since they had planned to head down the Danube to Bohemia, but they must have reconsidered, since they were now working here at this market. Berta had replied to Marie’s and Hiltrud’s warm greetings with just a grunt, and for this reason Fita didn’t dare exchange even a few friendly words with them.

Marie thought that Berta’s tent looked shabby and that the woman herself appeared more slovenly than when they parted ways a year and a half ago. No longer simply plump, Berta was now definitely fat. Fita, however, had become gaunt and seemed to have aged prematurely. Judging by the number of men who had visited their tents the day before, their business was good, but their clientele were for the most part humble journeymen and servants who had saved up a few pennies to experience the yearly treat of feeling a woman’s warm body press against them.

Perhaps in a few years she’d have to be content with such customers, Marie thought with a sigh. But for now Hiltrud and she didn’t need to take just anyone with three Haller pennies to spare. With her imposing stature, Hiltrud attracted many well-to-do men who wanted to prove their manhood.

As for Marie, she had her choice of many customers and could demand prices beyond the means of simple laborers. One of her most generous and loyal customers had on several occasions offered to set her up as his mistress in a fine home. A wool merchant from Flanders, he wanted to take her back with him to his homeland. If she had gone with him, however, she would have had to abandon Hiltrud, and she would do that only if she saw an opportunity to exact her revenge.

Several times, Marie had tried to get information from her hometown, but the people who could have helped her were wagon drivers and merchants who had dealings with Utz, and she didn’t dare approach them. Then one day she met a wandering minstrel on his way to Constance, and she gave him money to inquire about her father’s fate. They agreed to meet two months later at the Basel fair, but to her great disappointment he didn’t show up. She never saw him again, and she feared something had happened to him in the course of his investigations. Hiltrud thought that the man had simply taken the money, then fled to Italy or Lower Austria. Persuaded by her friend that the man had swindled her, Marie unkindly hoped that the fellow had contracted consumption.

All she could do was to wait for another opportunity, but so far, none had come along. Returning to Constance without permission as a banished woman could earn her double the number of blows and a possible brand. Even if she were able to sneak into the city without being seen, as soon as she started asking questions, she’d land in the tower. She didn’t dare to imagine what Hunold would do to her then.

“Still so pensive?” Hiltrud finished her bratwurst and wiped her greasy hands on a nearby clump of grass. “Are you brooding over old memories? Please, Marie, just forget what happened, especially with your former fiancé. He’s much too powerful and influential for you to pick a fight with.”

Marie glared at Hiltrud. “If I can’t think about getting my revenge on that scoundrel and his accomplices, then this miserable life isn’t worth it.”

Hiltrud shook her head thoughtfully.

“Our life isn’t so bad. In fact, we’re making pretty good money. I’ll admit I owe at least half my earnings to your angelic face attracting well-to-do customers and their friends like bees to honey. But if you always look so angry, you’ll drive men away and become prematurely old and ugly.”

Hiltrud’s pleased smile softened the effect of her admonition, but she couldn’t help it. Marie had brought her luck, and without her stunningly beautiful friend, Hiltrud couldn’t be as selective as she was.

Since Marie was still fuming, Hiltrud tried to divert her thoughts elsewhere. “I met Fita at the food stand. She looks bad, and an herb woman she consulted for her chest pain didn’t give her long to live. I advised her to leave Berta, who treats her like a slave.”

“I wouldn’t object to Fita’s joining us. We could no doubt nurse her back to health. But she’s completely devoted to Berta, even though the woman shamelessly exploits her.”

Hiltrud shrugged helplessly. “Nevertheless, I’ll talk to Fita again and suggest she join us. Perhaps . . .” She stopped speaking when she saw a refined middle-aged gentleman striding quickly toward the tents.

“That fellow looks like his pants are on fire. Do you think he’d be good for us?”

Marie glanced at the man’s military clothing and shook her head. “I don’t like soldiers. They’re too rough. Let him take Berta. She’s well padded and can stand forceful handling.”

Hiltrud laughed and nodded toward the penny prostitutes. “That’s just what he’s doing. Look! He’s talking to her now. Well, military men often have strange tastes. I once knew an officer who could have afforded the best-looking courtesans, but he always patronized a fleshy old hag and was as happy afterward as if he’d bedded the most beautiful virgin.”

Since there were no other customers around, Hiltrud and Marie watched as the man talked with Berta. But instead of disappearing inside her tent, he beckoned to Fita and several other prostitutes.

Hiltrud shook her head in amazement. “Maybe he wants to hire camp followers for the army.”

“We’ll know in a moment. I think he’s coming over to us.”

Hiltrud stood up as she always did when a potential client approached her tent. Marie remained seated, turning a cold shoulder to the man after glancing at his sullen face. As a rule, one could tell whether a customer was simply looking for a few agreeable moments in a woman’s arms. That man was certainly no such customer. He stopped a few paces in front of them and glared at them furiously.

“You are courtesans?” It was more a statement than a question.

“Just say whore, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Marie snapped.

The man growled like an angry bear. “I don’t care what you women call yourselves. I’m looking for a pleasant and clean bedmate for my lord.”

“If he wants one of us, tell him to come himself.” Marie hated being appraised like cattle.

“That’s not possible, as Sir Dietmar is at home in Arnstein Castle near Tettnang,” he explained. “I am Giso, his castellan, and I have instructions to find an acceptable prostitute to keep his bed warm for the next few months, as he must avoid the bed of his pregnant wife.”

Marie laughed in disbelief. “Then your lord must have a most generous wife, or has the lady no say at home?”

“That is none of your concern,” the steward snapped back. “I have an order to find a useful woman, but your mouth seems a bit too fresh.”

“With a harlot, normally it’s another part of the body that matters.” Marie had little desire to be confined for months in a drafty castle just to serve a lord, then later be pushed aside and given to his liegemen.

Hiltrud had become curious. “What’s in it for us?”

“The courtesan we select will leave with a full purse,” the man replied.

Marie shrugged. “Full of Haller pennies? That wouldn’t be enough for us.”

Giso’s face looked like he had bitten into a rotten apple. “I was given no specific sum. The woman who satisfies my lord’s needs will have no regrets.”

“Very nice for her. I wish you luck making your selection. You can find plenty of them over there.” Marie pointed at Berta and a few other women looking in their direction and talking animatedly. Despite the distance, it was clear to see that Berta’s face was contorted with envy.

Giso didn’t seem put out by either the gazes behind him or Marie’s snide remarks. “I look forward to seeing you all in my lord’s tent. It’s off to one side. You can’t miss it, because an ascending falcon, my lord’s coat of arms, is flying over it.”

“I’ll decline in advance, since my mouth, as you mentioned, is too fresh for your lord.” Marie was about to turn away, but the man did not desist.

“I have my order to summon up all the prostitutes in the marketplace for inspection.”

Marie bared her teeth. “If we come to your tent, we’ll waste time when we could be earning money.”

Giso clenched a fist, then relaxed his hand and placed it casually on his hip as if not wanting to be provoked. “All the prostitutes will be reimbursed for their efforts.” Turning away without a farewell, he stomped away.

Marie tapped her forehead. “What a strange fellow! He acts as if we were chickens and he must select the fattest one for dinner.”

Laughing at the comparison, Hiltrud nonetheless pointed at the empty lanes between the market stands. “If we get money just for showing up, we should go. It will be more than an hour until any decent customers come to the fairgrounds. The only ones to miss out on something will be Berta and her friends, since all the low-life servants are already starting to gather around their tents.”

Marie scoffed. “I’m telling you there won’t be more than a few pennies in it for us, but perhaps it will be enough for another bratwurst.”