The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series)

by Lorentz, Iny

  Michel nodded proudly. “I’m one of the foot-soldier leaders summoned here to reinforce the council guards. Our ship docked yesterday in Gottlieben, where we’ll be staying, but I wanted to see my hometown again before my duties begin, so I left before dawn to come here.”

  “Thanks be to God! I don’t even want to think what might have happened to my Hedwig if you hadn’t stepped in. She’s my only child, you know.” Master Mombert vowed to light a large wax candle to Saint Pelagius for sending the young warrior to help his daughter at just the right time.

  After a short walk, they reached Hundsgasse Lane, where Master Mombert’s shop was located. Michel knew the place well as he used to deliver beer to him frequently. Back then, the cooper’s house was equally as splendid as Matthis Schärer’s home. Now, he noticed that time had not been kind to the buildings, and they were showing their age. Though all of the finished barrels in the yard and the piles of wood in an open shed showed that there was a lot of work being done, Master Mombert seemed less prosperous than before.

  His hospitality, however, was still bountiful. Opening the front door, Mombert called to his wife, Frieda, and introduced her to their unexpected guest. She initially frowned when she saw the young palatine officer’s martial attire, but her expression changed in a flash after she learned that Michel had saved her daughter from great danger. Before attending to their guest, however, she gave her daughter a stern lecture.

  “I hope this incident will be a lesson to you,” she concluded. “Though the great demand for barrels keeps your father busy with work, I’d rather have the noblemen hold their council somewhere else.”

  Mombert raised his hand, trying to placate her. “You mustn’t think of it that way, woman. It’s a great honor that Kaiser Sigismund chose Constance as the place for the council.”

  His wife snorted scornfully. “It will really be a great honor when in a few months all of the maids are running around with big bellies after selling their virtue to a soldier or prelate for half a penny.”

  “It’s not going to be that bad,” said Mombert, trying to calm her down. “There are enough women of easy virtue here to serve every guest. In fact, the most beautiful harlots have been brought to Constance from all over the Reich for the noblemen. No local girl or woman will have to worry about her virtue.”

  “Indeed? And what almost happened to Hedwig?” Frieda nagged.

  “There are bad people everywhere, even here in Constance. Just remember what happened to poor Marie, and we still don’t know what happened to her after she was banished.” Mombert’s statement silenced his wife and caused Michel’s face to darken. Frieda hurried into the kitchen to get wine, sausage, and bread, and Hedwig followed her to help, not wanting to give her mother any more reason to scold her. Leading Michel into the sitting room, Mombert offered him the place at the head of the table usually only occupied by the master of the house.

  “My wife will be bringing us a bit of wine and something to eat in a moment, and then you can tell me what you’ve been up to.”

  Michel waved dismissively. “My life has not been very exciting. I followed Marie as far as the Rhine without finding her. Since I didn’t want to return to my father, I signed up on a ship sailing down the Rhine. When we reached the mouth of the Neckar River, two ships behind us collided. They were lucky, as neither boat sank, but a boy standing on one of the ship’s decks fell into the water. The current carried him toward our boat, so I was able to grab hold of him and pull him out without suspecting that he’d be literally worth his weight in gold.”

  Michel took a drink of wine and shook his head, laughing, as if he still couldn’t grasp his good fortune. “The boy turned out to be the count palatine’s nephew. Ludwig thanked me profusely and gave me more gold than I had ever seen at once in my life. After the incident, the captain of the guards in the harbor where we had docked invited me for a drink and listened to my story. Of course I told him about Marie, and he suggested I become a soldier. He thought I would do better in the world as a servant of the count palatine than as a boatman who just travels up and down the Rhine.”

  “And did you accept?” Mombert asked curiously.

  “I was so drunk, I still don’t know what I told him,” Michel admitted. “The next morning when I woke up, I was surprised to find myself on the count’s own ship. But everything worked out in the end.”

  “Have you been made a knight?” Mombert asked excitedly. Many men of high standing in Constance wanted nothing more than to be granted knighthood, but only a few were given this honor.

  “No, I haven’t made it that far yet. But I have become captain of a band of foot soldiers, and if my luck holds out and my superior remains favorably disposed, I may one day become a castellan, or captain of a castle.”

  Michel sounded so self-confident and proud that Mombert became a bit envious. This boy who was so scrawny only a few years ago, who was only the younger son of a simple taverner, had seized an opportunity and risen to an officer’s rank of one of the most respected men in the Reich. The cooper was only sorry Marie wasn’t there to witness it, since he knew she would have been thrilled for her childhood friend. Seeing Marie’s bloody and beaten body before his eyes once again, he struggled to hold back his tears.

  For a while the conversation wandered, Michel telling more about his time as a vassal of the count palatine and Mombert talking about all the things that had happened in Constance. Michel’s face darkened when he heard about the suspicious circumstances under which Matthis had died, along with details of how Counselor Rupert had managed to seize all of Schärer’s property without question and almost ruin Mombert. Since Michel wasn’t in a position to help his host, however, Mombert changed the topic and spoke of the council that was currently the object of so many heated discussions in the Reich.

  “I’m glad you’re one of the leaders of the council guards. With so many strangers here, it’s good to have a local person to maintain order.”

  Michel turned the wine cup around in his hand and seemed to be deciding how to reply. “Well, my people are not exactly council guards; nor am I.”

  Mombert looked at him in surprise. “But didn’t you say . . .”

  “Yes, I was ordered to come here, but it wasn’t to parade through the streets in full uniform, saving young women from drunken mercenaries or lecherous monks. Our task is different.”

  “What is it?” Mombert didn’t realize that his guest felt uneasy speaking about it.

  Michel realized he had to be careful what he said if he didn’t want to start spreading rumors. “Do you know Master Jan Hus?”

  Mombert nodded excitedly. “Of course! He’s a good, God-fearing man. I heard him preach once, and he says exactly what ordinary citizens are thinking.”

  “You shouldn’t announce that so loudly around here. Master Hus has made himself unpopular with some of the noblemen. My soldiers and I are here to stop him from leaving Constance as surreptitiously as Pope John did.”

  “Has word already gotten around that the only pope following the orders of the kaiser has secretly fled?”

  Michel smiled softly. “The count palatine learns everything that happens not only in Constance but also in the entire bishopric, or else he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his responsibilities to the kaiser. The people around the kaiser suspected that John would attempt to flee after he had been urged to resign. Once a person is at the very top, it’s not easy for him to relinquish his post.”

  Mombert cast a sly glance at Michel. “Are you one of those trying to bring Pope John back?”

  “In that case I wouldn’t be here. No, the kaiser sent out his own people, and I don’t think it will take them long to capture him. What the nobles are more concerned about now is what to do with Friedrich von Habsburg, the Tyrolean duke who helped John flee. I’ve heard rumors that the kaiser will declare him an outlaw. Then the man will have truly earned the nickname F
riedel with the Empty Pocket.”

  Grinning broadly, Mombert snapped his fingers. “That would be fine with me, as then we’d be rid of a troublesome tenant. Philipp von Steinzell is a vassal of Friedrich’s. If the duke is banned from the Reich, then Steinzell will have to leave Constance as well.”

  Michel frowned in surprise at his host’s vexed tone. He was about to ask more about Philipp von Steinzell when they suddenly heard a commotion in front of the house followed by suppressed curses and a woman’s shrill scream.

  Michel jumped up, but Mombert, despite his corpulence, reached the door first and stormed out. On the stairway stood a young man in a nobleman’s colorful clothing, holding a struggling Hedwig in his arms. The girl had thrown a barrel down the steps at him and bitten his hand, as blood was visible on the fingers he’d placed over her mouth. Evidently Philipp von Steinzell had been lying in wait for Hedwig in order to drag her into his room. “You bastard, I’ll bash your skull in!” Mombert roared so loudly that he was heard out on the street.

  The threat seemed to amuse the squire. “Well, come on then, if you dare. I’ll give you the worst beating of your life.”

  “I don’t have to tolerate this in my own home!” Mombert shouted, frothing at the mouth, but he stepped back when the man raised a hand to strike him. Mombert knew he was no match for the seasoned fighter and therefore just continued to yell. “Let my daughter go, you scoundrel, then pack your things and get out. I don’t want to see you in my house again.”

  The squire just laughed, but realizing that the cooper’s shouts would bring half the city running to his door, he let the girl go. Hedwig barely managed to hold on to the railing to avoid a fall, then got her footing again and rushed past her father into the house. Clenching his jaw, Philipp von Steinzell stared furiously at them and rubbed his bloodied left hand. For a moment it seemed he was about to give Mombert a good thrashing as punishment for his interference.

  Standing at the door up to that point, Michel now stepped out into the hallway, ready to assist the cooper. In the room’s dim light, Philipp could only see a man’s contours and the shape of his long sword. He immediately stepped back, turned with a half-angry, half-disappointed snort, and went up the stairs. At the top of the staircase he looked down contemptuously at Mombert.

  “Our business isn’t finished yet. You offered a room to me and my servant for as long as the council lasts, and I am going to make use of it.”

  The look on his face showed that he hadn’t given up.

  Turning red with rage, Mombert rashly went to follow his tormenter up the stairs and start a fight, but at that moment his eldest apprentice appeared from his hiding place in the hallway, staring at his master. Mombert hadn’t heard a door creaking open, so he knew that Melcher must have been concealed there when the knight attacked Hedwig. Now the cooper’s anger was directed at the youth.

  “What are you doing here, you lazy fool?” he shouted, followed by a string of various other insults.

  “Wilmar sent me to ask when you’ll be coming to work,” he sneered, laughing at his master. “We have a lot to do.”

  Mombert stepped toward the boy, his hand raised as if to strike, but then stopped and waved Melcher off with irritation.

  “I don’t owe either you or Wilmar an explanation. I have a guest at the moment—tell him that.” Turning away brusquely, Mombert took Michel by the shoulders, urging him back into the sitting room.

  Melcher stared at the sitting room door for a while. Then he peered up the stairs, where Philipp’s curses could still be heard through his closed door. He next ran to the workshop door and listened there, trying to discern if anyone inside had noticed the activity in the hallway. Hearing only the usual sounds of men working, he tiptoed back again toward the sitting room, putting his ear against the door. Disappointedly turning away, he slipped out the front door, checking cautiously once outside, then ran down the lane.

  A few minutes later, he arrived at a tavern near the harbor that was already busy despite the early hour. Positioning himself by the front door, he looked around, then was suddenly seized by a powerful hand and dragged into an empty adjacent room.

  “Here you are finally! I’ve been waiting for you since yesterday. Tell me what’s going on in Flühi’s house? Is there any news?” Utz had been idly sitting in the tavern at a time when every other wagon driver was earning double pay trying to carry all the guests in and around Constance.

  Standing on tiptoe, the boy whispered in Utz’s ear. “There was another confrontation between the master and the squire, and Flühi shouted so loudly that people living three houses away could hear. He threatened to bash in the squire’s skull if he touched Hedwig again.”

  “And you can testify to that.” It sounded like an order.

  Melcher nodded excitedly. “I can swear it!”

  “Not before I tell you to. I’m warning you. Don’t say another word of this to anyone, and do what I say.”

  “Of course, Utz, I understand.”

  The wagon driver tousled the boy’s hair. “If you listen to me, you’ll make out all right, Melcher.”

  “But you’ll keep your promise to me, won’t you? Becoming a nobleman’s vassal is quite different from trimming boards and making barrel staves for Master Mombert.”

  “Of course,” Utz replied with a laugh. “When this is all over and you’ve done everything I’ve told you, I’ll take you to a nobleman who’ll accept you into his service. We’ve already agreed to that. Then you’ll wear fancy clothes like the officers you idolize so much. But now you must go! I don’t want them to notice you missing.”

  Melcher ran off, beaming, and Utz watched until the boy had vanished among the crowd in the narrow street. Then grinning with satisfaction, the carriage driver returned to his table to finish his wine. A short time later, he ambled through the little streets, stopping in front of the cathedral where the upcoming council was going to meet.

  High dignitaries were standing around the church square, engaged in animated discussions. Armed guards attempted to keep an eye on their lords and at the same time drive away street vendors who were crowding in too closely in order to sell their food and sweets.

  Utz strolled through the throng like a casual spectator, deftly stepping out of the way of the soldiers, until he reached the upper church courtyard where a group of canons was engaged in a lively conversation. While keeping an eye on the North Gate, Utz pretended to be interested in the discussion, which centered around the pope’s secret departure a few days earlier. As soon as he saw the man he’d been waiting for exit the church, wearing a scholar’s flowing robe, the wagon driver moved away from the group, crossing paths with him as if by accident.

  “The case involving Steinzell and Mombert Flühi can begin in a few days,” he said softly as he passed.

  Counselor Rupert Splendidus bowed his head without glancing at the wagon driver, then turned to look at the abbot of the Waldkron monastery who was just leaving the cathedral behind him.

  “Shall we walk home together, Herr Hugo? Along the way you could tell me how your hunting party went this morning.”

  Hugo von Waldkron grimaced. Rupert responded to the silent show of emotion with a malicious smile, put his arm around the cleric’s shoulder, and pulled him closer, as if to support him.

  V.

  Looking down from on top of Mount Lichten near Meersburg, Marie saw the blue waters of Lake Constance lying before her again for the first time in years, and a shiver ran down her spine.

  In the clear air of that beautiful spring day, she was just able to make out the huge main tower of the Constance cathedral to the south with its golden weathercock perched on the roof. That rooster was the last thing she had seen when she had left the city, and now she imagined it letting out a mighty crow heard throughout town when she returned, announcing that she had come back to seek vengeance.

  Sh
e quickly shook off this thought. If she wanted to stay alive and plot her revenge, she couldn’t strut about like a mighty gentleman loudly demanding his due, but would instead have to be as quiet and inconspicuous as a little mouse. She could only succeed if no one in town recognized her and started gossiping.

  Except for Hiltrud, none of the other traveling harlots knew her story; nor did the procurer, Jobst. In his group, there were sixteen courtesans, as Jobst called them in his flattering way. Only a few of them were especially beautiful, but they all had pleasant faces and good figures, and there were no penny whores among them. These women all came of their own accord, drawn to the especially large gathering of soldiers, servants, and monks like bees to honey. Some of these women helped fill the better municipal bordellos where council members would seek to unwind after their long and difficult negotiations, and some, like Marie and Hiltrud, wanted to work independently.

  Jobst had rented a wagon so none of the women would have to walk and none would get sick. The carriage could be closed on all sides in case of bad weather, but at that moment, the canvas was tied up so the women could view the countryside and, as Marie chuckled to herself, so that other travelers could inspect them. Sitting up front on a board fastened to the wagon sides, Jobst had been entertaining the women with stories about the area. Now he looked down on the tired group and pointed at the lake. “Your lovely free time is coming to an end. By this evening we’ll be in Constance, and then you can start working.”

  The women looked relieved, as they were exhausted and looked forward to leaving the bouncing vehicle. Kordula, the oldest woman, said with a groan, “It’s high time, Jobst. My ass is beaten up with all of the bumps.”

  “But not the way you’re accustomed to,” Helma joked, adjusting the soft part of her pack as a cushion against the potholes.

  The others had folded up their blankets and laid them out on the bare wood, but that didn’t help much. The wagon was sturdy, built to carry barrels and other heavy merchandise, and it wasn’t well suited for women’s tender backsides. The procurer was assailed by complaints from all sides.