The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series)

by Lorentz, Iny

  She didn’t react to Hiltrud’s urgings to stand up, and when Marie bent down to touch her, she raised her head slightly and said, “Let me die.”

  “You’re not going to give out on us now, Fita,” Marie replied with feigned cheerfulness, but the woman just rolled over feebly.

  Hiltrud picked up a stick she had just stumbled over, placed it in the still-smoldering campfire, and blew on the stick until the point had caught fire. In the light of the flame, she and Marie could see how badly Fita had been beaten.

  Hiltrud looked back at the camp and shook her fist. “These aren’t men. They’re beasts. I hope the devil takes them soon.” She and Marie carried Fita down near the swampy pond to a clear brook where they washed her.

  “It’s a shame we already sank our cart in the swamp,” Hiltrud said. “We could have used some clothing for her.”

  “I can give her my spare skirt,” Marie suggested.

  “By the way she looks, she doesn’t need a dress—no doubt she’s going to die soon,” said a voice behind them. It was Berta who had come down to the water with Märte to wash, and they did so more thoroughly than Marie and Hiltrud had ever seen before. They even used a rounded stone to remove the clinging filth on their bodies.

  Holding up the torch, a smirk passed over Marie’s face. “I made sure we had a little reward from this mess. I took the men’s purses. But if we don’t get out of here quickly, they’ll kill us.”

  Berta laughed loudly and started walking toward Marie. “You’re going to share your spoils with us, as we agreed.”

  It sounded like a command, but Marie nodded eagerly and patted the two purses on her belt. “I will, but not here. We’ve got to be far away by the time these fellows wake up.”

  She put her extra skirt on Fita with Hiltrud’s help. Then the two women fastened their bundles on their backs and stood Fita up between them. Berta cursed at the waste of time, bluntly telling Marie that it was stupid to bring a half-dead person along with them.

  Marie reared back. “One more remark like that and I won’t give you anything of what I stole.”

  Her threat had an immediate effect. Berta closed her mouth and turned grimly silent, steering clear of Marie, Hiltrud, and Fita for the rest of their night’s journey. Gerlind, too, didn’t say another word to them and paid no attention to their injured companion, though she did light the way for Hiltrud and Marie with the burning branch she was holding. Märthe hobbled along behind them, constantly moaning to herself, though she seemed the least hurt of them all.

  Tired and sore and with clenched teeth, the women staggered through the night that was gradually giving way to a new day. Afraid of being pursued, they headed deeper into the forest, avoiding the main roads and paths. Not until the trees had become almost impenetrable around them did they stop, sinking to the ground with exhaustion.

  “The mercenaries certainly won’t find us here,” said Berta, groaning and feeling her feet. Though she was accustomed to going without shoes, her bare feet were so stung by thorns that she said she wouldn’t be able to walk for three days. Since none of the other women were any better off, no one paid attention to her whining. Looking up, Gerlind told her to stop complaining and go to sleep, and after grumbling a bit more, Berta lay down, her arm under her head.

  Soon after, they were awakened by Fita’s soft whimpers. Berta rose again and nudged Hiltrud. “You should have brought along some food rather than that half-dead girl over there.”

  Marie responded angrily. “Berta, you are the most heartless person I’ve ever met. Remember, I’m going to share the money!”

  Hiltrud sighed. “Let’s not quarrel. I’ve packed something to eat.”

  Evidently she’d thought ahead, and she took a package from her bundle, spreading out the contents in her lap. Berta, Gerlind, and Märthe practically tore the food from her hands, and Hiltrud had to be careful that there was enough left for the three other women.

  After Hiltrud had eaten, she vainly tried to coax some food into Fita’s mouth while Marie went to a nearby stream to fill her leather water pouch. Fita drank almost all of it, then leaned back with a barely audible thank-you. Hiltrud sprinkled the rest of the water on a cloth that she applied as a compress on Fita’s bleeding abdomen.

  In the meantime, the sky had brightened and was beginning to turn red in the east with the promise of a beautiful day. Gerlind and Berta looked around anxiously, realizing now that the thicket in which they had spent the night was really rather open and that there was nothing to shield them from prying eyes. Beyond the thicket was a sparsely wooded stand of oaks and beeches through which horsemen could easily pass; Berta even thought she could make out a trail. Shortly afterward, the women were terrified to hear ringing and clattering.

  “That sounds like a swineherd leading his pigs in our direction. If he sees us and betrays us to the Riedburgs, we’d be in terrible trouble.” Gerlind picked up her bundle and was about to run quickly away, but Hiltrud held her back.

  “Marie and I sat up with Fita half the night. Now it’s your turn.”

  “We should take her a bit farther into the forest. No one would see her there, and we’d be rid of her. I’m not going to go along with her.” Jutting out her chin, Berta placed her arms on her hips provokingly.

  Gerlind gave her a contemptuous look and told Märthe to help Fita walk. Hiltrud also lent a hand while Marie walked ahead, clearing a way for them with her stick. Berta, on the other hand, stomped sullenly along behind them, and only Gerlind’s sharp words finally made her hide their tracks using a birch branch. They continued on like this for hours, losing the path behind them.

  As the day drew to a close, Marie found a place that they all agreed looked secure. It was an area where a storm had mowed down the trees as if they were grass. Since then, new growth had appeared, but the lower vegetation was so dense that no reasonable person would even attempt to enter. Hiltrud and Gerlind checked the surroundings for bear tracks, but to their relief they found only a deer path leading into the new growth. All six of the women slowly followed the path until it ended in a dry spot beneath two huge overlapping tree trunks lying on their sides.

  Marie and Gerlind gathered some moss and branches and set up a shelter where they could care for Fita. Even though the bleeding had stopped, her abdomen still looked battered, and her stomach felt hot and as hard as a stone.

  Helplessly, Marie waved Hiltrud away from Fita and spoke quietly. “Do you think we can help her?”

  “It doesn’t look good, but maybe my salves and tinctures will help.” Hiltrud went to get her medicines and began to treat Fita.

  Meanwhile, Berta had been talking quietly but intensely with Gerlind and Märte, and she finally approached Marie with an outstretched hand.

  “Now we can divide up the booty. Hand over your purse!”

  Putting her hand on the two leather pouches, Marie wanted to tell Berta to go to hell. She regretted she hadn’t hidden the money, but now all she could do was to try to put on a good face, for Berta and Gerlind would give her no rest until they had gotten their share.

  “We’ll divide up the money, but only under the condition that we’ll all stay in this hiding place for a few days, or at least until we can be sure that the mercenaries have left,” Marie told her.

  Gerlind agreed impatiently and sat down next to Marie. “Yes, yes, we’ll do that. Now hand it over.”

  Marie shook her head so hard that her hair flew in all directions. “First I’ve got to see how much I have, and then I’ll figure out what everyone’s share is.”

  Hissing like a snake, Berta stepped closer to Marie and reached for the purse. “Each of us, of course, gets the same.”

  Marie pushed her away. “Hiltrud lost her goats and her cart, so she deserves more.”

  “And you get a larger share, Marie, because you took the money,” added Hiltrud, who tended to be generous but
was repelled by the others’ greed.

  Berta pouted and stepped back a few paces, but she didn’t take her eyes off Marie’s belt. “Well, fine, but you don’t need to include Fita in the calculations, as she’s not going to be around much longer, and she’d just take her share to a church offering box before she kicks off, anyway.”

  “Fita will get her share, and what she does with it is her business.” Marie had to tamp down her fury, for she saw how Fita, who had been Berta’s companion for many years, quivered at hearing the nasty words. Under Gerlind’s and Berta’s watchful eyes, Marie emptied the two purses in her lap and counted out the money. The total was more than she’d expected, as there were no coins of lesser value among them. She made four equal piles from the first purse for Gerlind, Berta, Märthe, and Fita. The second purse was distributed equally between Hiltrud and her. Gerlind was visibly unhappy even though the sum that Marie put into her hand was at least five times as much as what she earned in a good year.

  Berta wrapped her coins in a strip of cloth she had ripped from her shirt, and put them away without saying a word. Then she reached for Fita’s share, as if to pocket that as well. “After all, we were always comrades.”

  Marie slapped Berta’s hand away. “I’ll keep Fita’s money for her until she’s back on her feet. That way, I can be sure she’ll really get it.”

  “You’re a disgusting wench! I’m not going to let you cheat me.” Berta jumped up and lunged for Marie while Hiltrud tried to hold her back, grabbing her from behind, but before they could exchange blows, Gerlind stepped in.

  “We’re not going to fight over a few pennies, are we?” she said.

  Hiltrud, who was ordinarily very even-tempered, flushed with anger. “You got your share, and I’m not going to let you cheat a sick companion. Berta should be ashamed of herself. That’s more money than she’s ever held in her hands at one time, but now she also wants to steal money from Fita, whom she’s always exploited.”

  Gerlind put her left hand around Hiltrud’s shoulder and patted her cheek with her other hand. “You’re right, dear. Berta has no reason to complain, and I don’t, either.” But she kept staring at the money Marie had piled up, as if she wanted to devour the coins with her eyes.

  Forcing a laugh, Gerlind finally turned away. “Do you know what? I was able to save a few of my things, too, and I’ll make us all a strong cup of tea to help us get our strength back.”

  She winked at Berta. The fat whore made a face, but she did as Gerlind asked and fished out the tin cups they’d taken from the camp. Gerlind and Märthe beckoned for Berta to help them gather enough wood to make a little fire, and before long, the tea water was simmering in Gerlind’s battered kettle. The old woman sniffed at the brew several times, sprinkled the contents of a little bag into the liquid, and let it steep for a bit. Finally she filled the six cups, handing Marie and Hiltrud theirs.

  “Here, have something to drink. It will do you good. It’s strong enough to get Fita back on her feet as well.”

  “That would be nice. Thanks, Gerlind.” Hiltrud gave a sigh of relief and watched as Märthe, who had silently remained in the background until now, bent down and also gave Fita some tea. Then Hiltrud nodded at Gerlind. “I’m happy we’re all getting along again. Now let’s find a stone we can use to bake some biscuits. I have enough flour left to make a batch.”

  She started to stand up, but Gerlind put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her down again. “Not yet. Go to sleep and give the medicine a chance to work, or it won’t help. In fact, we should all lie down and sleep. The biscuits can wait.”

  Relaxing back onto the grass, Hiltrud nodded her agreement, trusting Gerlind’s advice since she knew the old woman was knowledgeable about herbs, and she slowly sipped the strong brew that left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. Though her first inclination was to toss the pungent liquid away, Marie didn’t want to provoke any further conflict, so she drank the tea in short sips, Leaning her head back against the rotted, crumbling wood behind her, Marie stared dreamily at the piles of coins for a moment, then glanced over at Berta who had withdrawn into a corner, pouting. Gerlind went to join Berta, and they got into what looked to be an animated discussion. Finally Marie put aside the coins intended for Fita, counted out both her share and Hiltrud’s share into the two purses she had stolen, and handed one to Hiltrud.

  Stretching out, Hiltrud gave a long yawn. “Your warm tea feels good, and the medicine already seems to be helping. You’ll have to give me the recipe sometime, Gerlind. It even relieves my stomach pain.”

  “It will relax you a lot more than this,” Berta sneered.

  Hiltrud felt Gerlind poking her and wanted to say something more, but her tongue suddenly became as heavy as her eyelids. She saw Marie sinking to the ground before she herself drifted off into a dense, dreamless cloud. The last thing she heard was Berta’s laughter. “That was an effective drink. The two of them are sleeping like logs.”

  Gerlind stared at the two women slumped on the ground and spat as if disgusted with herself. “We’ve got to get out of here as fast as we can since I don’t know how long the potion works. Come on, Berta, take the money from them.”

  Berta didn’t need to be asked twice. Quickly grabbing Fita’s share, she then took the leather pouches Marie and Hiltrud were carrying, as well as Marie’s smaller purse of recent earnings, and handed some of the gleanings to Gerlind.

  The old woman was visibly struggling with her conscience. “We shouldn’t take everything from them.”

  Berta waved her off with a snort and put the purses in her pockets. “Bah, it’s each one for herself!” Then she pointed at Hiltrud’s and Marie’s bundles. “What is this stuff? Shall we take it along, too?”

  Gerlind shook her head. “We have enough to carry. Come on, let’s go.”

  Berta’s face contorted into a spiteful grin. “With the greatest of pleasure. As long as I live, I’ll never forget how happy I am to have played this trick on these two snotty bitches. Now that they have no more money, they’ll have to bed every stinking old goat that comes along.”

  She turned around without even a brief glance at Fita, and stomped off with a contented look on her face. Märthe followed in her footsteps, while Gerlind hesitated. Only after the other two women turned to call back to her did she make up her mind, leaving the drugged women behind and unprotected.

  IX.

  When Marie woke up, it was shortly before noon. At first she was confused, for it seemed like it had just been late afternoon. A bitter taste in her mouth reminded her of Gerlind’s tea, and she realized she had been sleeping almost a whole day. Struggling to her feet, she looked around and had to shake herself several times before she was fully awake. An arm’s length in front of her, Hiltrud still lay in a deep sleep.

  “What’s wrong?” Hiltrud groaned a short while later as she, too, slowly awoke, holding her head in her hands.

  “Gerlind drugged us with her tea.”

  Hiltrud glanced around drowsily. Except for Fita, who lay rigid on her nearby bed of moss, there was no one to be seen. Gerlind, Berta, and Märthe had disappeared, and with them the purses that had been hanging on their belts.

  Hiltrud let out a curse that would have made even a hardened sailor’s hair stand on end. “Those filthy whores stole all our money.”

  In disbelief, Marie looked down and discovered the remains of the leather straps that had been attached to both her small purse and the divided spoils. Chills ran up and down her spine, and she quickly reached under her dress to see if Siegward’s gold and the rest of her savings had also been stolen. She let out a shout of joy when she found that those little bags were still there.

  Hiltrud stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “What’s gotten into you? We’ve been looted, and you’re happy?”

  “It’s not as bad as I thought.” She raised her dress and showed her friend the hidden trea
sure. “The money here is at least ten times more than what they took. I’m so glad they didn’t think of searching us.”

  Breathing heavily, Hiltrud felt an anger at the robbers far greater than her pleasure at seeing Marie’s little fortune. “Those thieving women will pay us back every penny, with interest! Come on, Marie. We’ve got to find their tracks and follow them. I’ll beat the hell out of Berta.”

  “But first, we have to take care of Fita.” Marie didn’t wait for Hiltrud’s reply, but steadied herself on her still-shaky legs and went over to where the sick girl was lying. When she saw Fita’s face, however, Marie realized there was nothing more they could do.

  She turned aside and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Fita is dead. The only thing that consoles me about it is that because of Gerlind’s sleeping potion, she didn’t have to suffer.”

  Hiltrud placed her hands on her hips and looked grimly at the body. “Hah! Gerlind’s brew probably killed her.”

  “The tea only hastened her death. I don’t think Fita would have survived much longer. She was too badly injured and had lost her will to live.”

  Kneeling down, Marie stroked the dead woman’s emaciated face. “Good-bye, Fita! If there’s a just God, he will finally unite you with your child.”

  “May God give her eternal peace.” Hiltrud shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. “What shall we do with her? We can’t just leave her lying there.”

  “We’ve got to bury her.”

  Marie gave Hiltrud no time to object but took Fita’s knife and started digging. Hiltrud grumbled about Berta getting away, but she also set to work energetically using a small rock. The afternoon passed as they dug a hole in the ground with their makeshift tools, and by the time they had placed the last stone on Fita’s grave, the sun was already setting.