The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series Book 1)

by Iny Lorentz

  Marie didn’t want to trade her services as payment for entering the city, and she stared at him with grim determination. “I want to go to the market to buy bread.”

  The guard’s expression showed that he hadn’t meant his threat seriously, but he was still disappointed she hadn’t accepted. To her great relief, he simply accepted three pennies from her and even wished her a good day and God’s blessing.

  Marie pushed the ribbon back under her dress and hastily walked through the dense crowd toward the marketplace. After the long, lonesome time in the forest, Marie found it awkward to be among people again. She startled every time she heard a loud voice, and it took her a while to realize that no one was paying any attention to her. Finally, she went over to a market stand to see what was for sale.

  Marie didn’t know exactly how long she and Hiltrud had been living in the forest, but seeing the fruit and vegetables for sale—cherries, pears, and already the first plums shipped in from the Rhine valley—she thought it must have been weeks. Her mouth watered, and for a while she resisted temptation, but she finally gave in when she passed a sausage stand a few moments later. She bought four of them, looked for a quiet corner in which to enjoy them, and almost felt like she was cheating her friend. After she’d eaten and licked the fat off her fingers, she set about buying some essentials. Before long, she had bought two loaves of bread, a piece of ham, sewing needles and thread, and two pieces of cloth from which she and Hiltrud would be able to sew new clothing. Finally, she bought a large shoulder bag in which to carry her purchases.

  At first she spoke very little, limiting herself to just the basics, but when a smiling wine merchant gave her a friendly yet respectable greeting, she asked him to fill the jug she’d just bought with Rhine wine and struck up a conversation. “My good man, could you give me some news?”

  “Of course,” he responded with a laugh. “But what do you want to know, woman?”

  “What do you know about the council in Constance? Have the noblemen arrived yet?”

  The man shook his head. “Far from it. Before princes and bishops meet, there are all sorts of things to consider. They don’t just get on the road the way people like us do, but because they rarely trust one another, they first have to exchange messages and make all kinds of agreements. Then they send people ahead to inspect the inns along the way and find suitable accommodations where they give instructions for receiving their masters. That’s a very difficult thing, woman, as the kaiser must not live in poorer accommodations than the pope, and vice versa, and a bishop’s lodging must be equal to that of a prince or a count. It takes many months before that’s all arranged.”

  The man loved to talk, and he told in great detail about the noblemen who would be going to Constance. Soon Marie’s head was spinning with all the names. Along with the noblemen and dignitaries from the Reich, many nobles and church authorities would be coming from faraway places like Scotland, Spain, and Italy. He also told Marie about the preparations being made in Constance for this great event.

  “The Holy Father will travel there by ship directly from Rome,” he stated with an ecstatic look, marveling at the splendor of the pope’s great ship. At that point Marie interrupted and asked the merchant about any recent feuds between noble houses.

  He stopped to think for a moment. “Indeed, there was a big feud in the spring between the Riedburgs and the Büchenbruch clan. That was a bad situation, I tell you. Old Siegbald had secretly sent his eldest son, Siegward, to the Rhine in order to hire mercenaries and purchase those hellish things called cannons, monstrous metal devices whose roar causes walls to collapse and makes the hearts of courageous men stand still. The Riedburgs must have paid a fortune for them, but they didn’t help. While Siegbald’s eldest son was away, Lothar von Büchenbruch boldly attacked and conquered the Riedburgs’ castle. When Siegward returned home with his mercenaries and cannons, Büchenbruch ambushed him. Not wanting to surrender even though the situation was hopeless, young Riedburg counterattacked, and he, along with his brother Siegerich and most of the mercenaries, died in the battle.”

  Marie listened wide-eyed to the merchant’s account. If he was right, then she and Hiltrud had been hiding in the forest for nothing. Thanking him for his information, she moved on, a full wine jug in her left hand and her other purchases on her back. She bought some dress trimmings from a brash merchant in order to confirm the Riedburg feud, and the man gladly told her what he knew without too many embellishments. Indeed, it seemed that the wine merchant had not been exaggerating. Riedburg Castle had in fact been stormed by Lady Mechthild’s relatives, and the two eldest Riedburg sons had fallen in battle not long after they’d murdered Gerlind, Berta, and Märthe. The merchant even knew that Gilbert Löfflein, the famous cannon maker, had also perished in battle.

  XI.

  Later that afternoon, head spinning, Marie returned to where Hiltrud was hiding. She found her friend anxious and annoyed.

  “Did you have to keep me waiting so long? I was afraid you’d fallen into the hands of the Riedburgs’ mercenaries, and I’ve already died a thousand deaths worrying about you.”

  Marie threw her head back, laughing. “I didn’t see any mercenaries, and even if I had, he wouldn’t have paid any attention to me. Hiltrud, do you know we’ve been hiding out in this forest for weeks for no reason? Most of the men who abused us are dead.”

  Hiltrud stared at Marie disbelievingly. “Repeat that again.”

  Marie told her what she’d learned at the market and swore she’d spoken with two different people about it. Hiltrud kept shaking her head in amazement and finally burst out laughing.

  “I told you God loves us more than the priests want us to believe, though rarely have the sinners been so thoroughly punished as in this case.”

  Marie chuckled as she unpacked her purchases. Hiltrud’s eyes nearly popped out of her head upon seeing the loaves of bread and the ham. She was even happier to see the golden Rhine wine. While Marie gladly gave her most of the refreshing drink, she hurried to help herself to some of the ham, as Hiltrud was wolfing it down and didn’t stop until she’d enjoyed the last piece. Wiping the grease from her mouth, Hiltrud smiled with contentment.

  “So it’s true? We really don’t need to fear Siegward anymore?”

  “Only as a ghost.” Marie’s little joke didn’t please her friend.

  “Don’t say that. It’s already too much to bear that Gerlind returns in my dreams to say how sorry she is that she betrayed us.”

  “It’s easy to be sorry in hindsight. Gerlind made her choice, and in so doing, almost ruined us as well.”

  Marie poured herself some wine, staring pensively into the amber liquid. Though the murder of the three women had initially upset her far more than it had her friend, its memory was already fading for her. Hiltrud, however, was still dreaming at night about her former traveling companions and remained deeply shaken by their fate. The only faces Marie remembered from her nightmares were those of Rupert and his cronies.

  Hiltrud knew Marie so well, she could almost read her thoughts. “You’re thinking about your former fiancé again! Just let it go. It would almost have been better if you hadn’t learned about Siegward’s death, because then your fear of him would help you forget those old memories.”

  Though Hiltrud sounded unkind, Marie didn’t hold it against her friend. Hiltrud thought that revenge was a plaything of the nobles and not for people like them, but Marie didn’t agree. If there was a just God in heaven, she believed that he would put a weapon in her hand to use against Rupert. This hope was her sole motivation in life. In a sense, the stolen money felt like a gift from heaven, for now she finally had enough money to hire an assassin. But Marie kept her plans to herself, and only regretted she couldn’t talk with Hiltrud about it.

  The jug of wine was now empty, and since Hiltrud rarely had the opportunity to indulge in such strong drink, her head fell onto he
r chest, and Marie wasn’t faring much better. Struggling to their feet, they found a hiding place in the thick underbrush and slept the rest of the afternoon all the way through to late the next morning.

  When they finally awoke, they discussed what to do next. Since they had nothing to fear from the Riedburgs anymore, they could finally go down to the Rhine and get to work again. But first they needed to improve their appearances.

  Hiltrud thanked Marie for remembering to pick up cloth and sewing supplies, but in the same breath she criticized her failure to bring back any yellow material or white bands to dye yellow since their old, tattered ribbons would prove an odd contrast on their new clothing. After some muttering, though, Hiltrud removed them and freshened them up with a mixture of turmeric and dandelions, hanging them on a branch to dry. Marie chose the blue linen for her dress, while Hiltrud decided on the ocher-colored woolen material. Because they didn’t have scissors, they cut the materials to size using Marie’s knife, and went to work zealously.

  Marie stopped sewing for a moment and looked at Hiltrud’s hair. Though she had dyed it dark in the forest, her light blond roots were now showing. Marie pulled one of the dirty brown strands of her hair up to her face. “What shall we do about this? Dye it again or try to wash out the filth?”

  “I’m for washing it out,” replied Hiltrud, who was proud of her blond hair and had dyed it only to disguise herself from the Riedburgs.

  “Then we should start right away. I want to return to the Rhine looking just like the Marie people once knew.” Marie took a pot and hurried to the brook to fetch water.

  Since the weather remained fair and they didn’t have to build a hiding place, their preparations took only three days, during which they wrapped their hair with cloths dipped in a plumbago solution. Though they only had primitive tools with which to work, they were more than happy with the results. Now they were presentable again and no longer ran the risk of being viewed as penny prostitutes. Hiltrud had even decorated the neckline of Marie’s dress with a strip of trimming, which she told Marie would magnetically draw men’s eyes to the two alabaster hills underneath. Finally, Hiltrud sewed the yellow ribbons on both dresses while Marie watched sadly.

  “The dress looked a lot nicer without the ribbons.” She sighed.

  Hiltrud gave her a gentle bump on the nose. “Let’s go, and don’t pretend you’re tired! Pack up your things. I’d like to get started today.”

  Marie seemed to have been waiting for these words, as for once she had finished tying up her bundle before Hiltrud and was watching her friend impatiently. Hurrying along, they softly sang a lilting tune as they followed the setting sun westward. The weather remained fair, and since they had a full moon to brighten their way, they made good time. Hiltrud hoped to reach Strasbourg within a few days, where clean and hardworking harlots could make a good living near the harbor.

  Marie listened patiently as Hiltrud rambled on about the big markets taking place that year, speculating on their chances of making enough money to get through the winter. In the meantime, Marie was wondering how to find someone in Strasbourg who, for a certain sum of gold coins, would put an end to Rupert’s life. She wasn’t sure how to go about that, however, since she didn’t want to lose her money again to someone who’d run off with the down payment.

  Marie and Hiltrud didn’t have to walk the final stretch to Strasbourg, as they were invited to join ferrymen whom Hiltrud knew to be honest. It was pleasant to sit on two shipping bales and watch as the horses, plodding along the towpath, pulled the ship upriver on a long rope. Carefully trimmed willows along the path shaded the animals from the burning summer sun, and Marie was grateful to Hiltrud for thinking to fill the jug at their previous stop with tart wine diluted with water.

  Soon they saw the massive tower of the Strasbourg cathedral rising up over the flat meadowland along the river. Marie and Hiltrud said good-bye to the boatmen upon reaching the harbor, jumping into the outstretched arms of some cheering sailors on the shore. One wanted to drag Marie off into the nearby bushes, but his lust was greater than his purse, and so she slipped away from him, laughing.

  The two women strolled around the harbor, watching the many small boats, high-walled barges, and the innumerable rafts that had been tied up at the wharf or had been pulled onto shore. Goods from all over the world were traded here: Marie saw Dutchmen in baggy trousers and striped shirts, their unruly hair tucked under dark felt caps; merchants from the Rhineland with tight-fitting stockings that shamelessly accentuated their masculinity; men from the Black Forest in dark overalls and broad-brimmed hats; and people in the traditional garb of the Upper Rhine area and Lake Constance. Only a few honorable women were visible, usually upper-class travelers, and a number of prostitutes eyed the newly arrived competitors with hostile gazes.

  Ignoring their looks, Hiltrud led her friend easily through the streets. From a previous visit to the city, she knew about an inn that was avoided by respectable citizens but would accept anyone who paid in advance. Located some distance from the harbor along an old canal that had turned into a garbage-filled swamp, the inn was filthy but also the only place for miles around that would offer accommodations to wandering prostitutes.

  Hiltrud opened the heavy oaken door that, if necessary, could be secured from the inside with several crossbeams. Anybody trying to get in here without the permission of the innkeeper would need a battering ram. There were only a few tiny windows carved into the massive walls, and the entryway was so dark that Marie could barely see her hand in front of her face. Only the cold seeping into her feet revealed to Marie that the floor was paved with stone.

  They had barely gotten inside when a door was flung open and a man held out first a light, and then stuck his head out. He stared at them for a moment, then grinned, as if he were already counting the gold coins he could take from them.

  “We need a place to stay for several days, just one room for the two of us,” Marie told the man, who seemingly hadn’t changed his shirt and apron since the previous autumn.

  “Well of course,” the innkeeper scoffed. “How are you going to pay? And don’t go lifting your dresses.”

  Hiltrud threw back her head with a laugh. “My dear Martin, surely you don’t think I’d let anybody like you touch me. I’d rather sleep outside by the canal, but our last customer was very generous.” She showed him a large, sparkling silver coin.

  The innkeeper’s greedy eyes nearly popped out of his head “You must have been paid very well to offer such a splendid coin for a week’s stay.”

  Hiltrud pouted. “Let’s agree on two weeks, Martin. That’s a handsome profit for you and no loss for us.”

  The man nodded hesitantly. “Very well, one room for two weeks, but no board.”

  Before Hiltrud could reply, Marie agreed, since she knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a thing in this squalid house. She was already horrified at the idea of having to stay there for two weeks and was happy when Hiltrud suggested that they return to the harbor after a short inspection of the room under the gables that the innkeeper showed them.

  “But you can’t bring any men into my place, or it will cost you another silver coin,” he called after them.

  Hiltrud waved him off contemptuously and whispered to Marie that she couldn’t bring her customers into this bug-infested hole, anyway. Marie nodded without replying, as she was holding a cloth with a sharp-smelling tincture up to her nose to mask the foul odors.

  As they left, she stepped aside to avoid bumping into a man pacing in front of the inn, but he turned around and seized her by the arm.

  “Marie! I’m so happy to have found you. When I saw you down at the harbor earlier, I almost didn’t recognize you. I could hardly believe my eyes, for I never dared to hope I’d find you again so quickly, and today, of all days, on such an important day for me.”

  Puzzled, Marie stared at the man. For a brief moment she was afraid
he might be one of Riedburg’s mercenaries who had come for the stolen money. But this man’s eager, watery eyes expressed a lust for something other than gold. His haggard face with its pointed nose and thin lips seemed familiar, but she just couldn’t place him. Then, all at once, when he moved his chin and made that funny sound, she knew.

  “Jodokus!”

  It was the scribe from Arnstein, the monk who had run off after destroying the will. He looked very different from how she remembered him. Tight-fitting dark green stockings highlighted a bulging embroidered codpiece, which Marie assumed was filled with stuffing, judging from Hiltrud’s accounts of the man’s endowments. He didn’t seem poor, as he wore a short, new-looking overcoat made of fawn-colored wool that had slit sleeves and a florid lining. Light brown hair with graying strands protruded from beneath his round, feathered hat. The difference between the respectable citizen standing before her and the haggard monk she knew in Arnstein was so great that Sir Dietmar’s people could have walked right past the man without recognizing him.

  Jodokus pulled her so close that his foul breath blew right into her face, and his stomach pressed tightly against hers. “You have not forgotten me, I see, my dear, as I also have not forgotten you. How often my loins have ached thinking of you. Finally my longing for you will be satisfied.”

  He doesn’t think I’ll go to bed with him, does he? Marie thought, horrified and remembering only too well his betrayal of Sir Dietmar and Lady Mechthild. She was about to hurl her contempt for him in his face, but she was suddenly struck by a thought that at first seemed so absurd she almost laughed out loud.

  Jodokus must have been one of Rupert’s accomplices, for who except the counselor and his noble half brother would have had any interest in destroying Sir Otmar’s will in Arnstein Castle and stealing the copy from Saint Ottilien’s monastery? If she ingratiated herself with the former monk now, maybe she could find a way to get her revenge on her enemies. So rather than rejecting Jodokus’s advances, she giggled and allowed his hands to caress her breasts.