by Lorentz, Iny
All eyes turned to Utz. Marie could hear her heart pounding so hard, she was afraid people would hear it. She pressed her hand to her chest and held her breath so not a single sound could escape her mouth.
Shrugging, Utz waved them off with his hand and spat into the fire. “Why are you asking all these silly questions? I don’t know any more than you do. Master Matthis’s daughter was convicted of immoral behavior and driven out of town. I have no idea what happened to her or her father after that.”
“But you were a regular visitor to his house after Counselor Rupert moved in. Certainly you heard something,” one of the drivers shouted, curiosity written all over his face.
Marie drew closer so she wouldn’t miss a single expression on his face. Listening to him aggressively deny that he knew anything about the matter, she felt a shiver run up and down her back. Utz was lying, a fact that was even evident to some of the people at the table, and he angrily turned away any further questions. When the clamoring insistence of the others became too great, he stood up and went to one of the sleeping places without having finished his wine nor, as one of the armed escorts noted with annoyance, having assigned guard duties for the night. His curious behavior gave rise to wild speculation among those left sitting at the table, but since no one could shed any additional light on the issue, conversation soon turned to other topics.
For a while, Marie was so upset, she couldn’t move. She wondered why Utz, whose false accusation had been the start of her misfortune, was now so strongly denying his part in the matter. There had to be something he wanted to keep hidden, and it couldn’t just concern her. Utz alone couldn’t have convinced Euphemia, the shoemaker’s widow, to testify falsely. Only Rupert could have done that, with the wagon driver as his accomplice. She knew that if her father were alive, he would never have let the counselor set foot in the house, so had the two killed her father in order to take his property? Since government authorities immediately confiscated property without an heir, she couldn’t imagine that possibility. With a start, however, she suddenly remembered that her former fiancé had good relations with the bishop and other high officials. It was indeed conceivable that with their help he had seized possession of her house.
Marie wanted to jump up and accuse Utz of rape and murder in front of everyone there, but she quickly realized it would only hurt her and the women she was traveling with. No one would believe her except Utz, and he would not hesitate to kill her, too, along with her companions. The surrounding forests could hide many dark secrets if a few itinerant women disappeared.
Carefully, Marie left the yard without being seen. Once outside, she crouched alongside the fence and petted Hiltrud’s two goats, lost in her reveries. She knew two things for certain now: her father would not save her, and no one else was left to take an interest in her fate. In order to mislead her uncle Mombert and others, Rupert must have started the rumor that her father had left to search for her.
Listening to the sound of the nearby river Elta, she wondered if it was deep enough and its current strong enough to offer her a merciful end. She wasn’t afraid to commit suicide, and she knew she’d never be able to travel the road as a harlot like Gerlind and the others. She struggled to her feet and began to head down to the river.
But at her very first step, it occurred to her that she was the only one who could confront Rupert for his treacherous misdeeds. He had stolen her father and had made her life worth less than that of a farm animal. If she killed herself now, he would have won everything.
Turning all this over in her mind, she wondered what she could do. As a dishonorable wandering prostitute, she had no possibility of seeking justice from a man like Counselor Rupert Splendidus, an esteemed citizen and son of the Count Heinrich von Keilburg. Give up, she said to herself. Do you want to become like Fita, where the rest of your life is one unending torture?
But something within her resisted surrender. Hadn’t Hiltrud said that even prostitutes were not defenseless? Marie knew that she was still young and pretty, and if she stopped hiding that fact, perhaps a young man might fall so much in love with her that he’d kill Rupert, Utz, Linhard, and Hunold just to win her heart. Or perhaps, even better, she could save enough money to hire someone to murder the four of them. The thought of revenge was not exactly Christian, but the church had already condemned her to hell one way or the other, whether she became a murderer or spent the rest of her life atoning for a sin she had not committed. She decided it was better to live for revenge than to die now and enter the fiery gates without finding retribution.
Marie woke from her reveries with a start when the four other women returned. Hiltrud scolded her for daydreaming since Marie hadn’t watered the goats, put up the tent, nor built a fire. But she didn’t sound serious and seemed in good spirits from her business dealings. Berta also appeared pleased, humming a lively tune and jingling the coins she had earned. Even Gerlind chuckled happily to herself. But Fita groaned and bent over in pain, pressing her hand to her stomach.
“Why do men always have to be so coarse?” she complained.
Shaking her head, Gerlind sighed. “You let them take advantage of you and do anything they want. Look around for the right men, and then you won’t have so many problems. Use some of Hiltrud’s tincture, or better yet, the salve she gets from the Merzlingen apothecary. It doesn’t burn as much.”
Hiltrud went to her wagon to get the salve. “Gerlind is right,” she told Fita, holding the balm out to her. “You have to learn to tame these ruffians, or you won’t last long. Here, take this. It really helps. This stuff worked for Marie. She was badly beaten, and now the wounds are invisible.”
Berta looked up and snorted. “Aha, so Marie is healthy again? I’m surprised you don’t put her to work. She’s your maid, and you have a right to most of her earnings. There were easily enough men with money in their pockets for all five of us today, and Fita could surely have done with one or two fewer. If Fita’s as badly injured as she claims, it will be days before she’s able to earn money again.”
“I’ll leave it to Marie to decide when she can start work.” Hiltrud wanted to give Berta a tongue-lashing and tell her it was none of her business, as such admonitions didn’t make it easier to convince Marie of the advantage of a prostitute’s life. There was still a risk the girl would drown herself rather than be reasonable once she realized that none of her relatives would come to save her. But Hiltrud clenched her teeth to stifle any further discussion.
Berta didn’t relent. “Then you really are stupid. I would have given that fine young girl to a brawny stud by force if necessary. If she wants to continue with us, she’s got to adapt. I won’t tolerate one more useless mouth to feed in the group.” Her final words sounded venomous.
Gerlind pounded the grass with the flat of her hand. With these words Berta had attacked her authority, and she wouldn’t tolerate that. “First of all, you don’t have to feed Marie, and second, you should be happy you earned more money today than you could have if she had snatched away our best customers with her pretty face.”
Fita stood up. “I’m going down to the river to wash up.” She hated controversy and ran away from arguments. Gerlind and Hiltrud just nodded and went down to the river with her. As usual, Marie joined them to keep an eye on their clothing. After a short sulk, Berta also followed, but she had no intention of removing her clothes to wade into the water. She was still in a bad mood and hadn’t gotten over Gerlind’s reprimand.
“Be careful you don’t catch cold down below, or I’ll have to work all by myself for a while.”
Gerlind laughed. “Haven’t you always wanted to be the only whore for miles around?”
Even Berta had to laugh, and the tension among the women vanished as quickly as it had started. While Berta and Marie remained on the shore, Gerlind, Hiltrud, and Fita plunged into the water. In the light of the moon they looked like water sprites in a mysterious, shimmerin
g kingdom. Finally, Marie also removed her dress and walked into the river. The cold water nearly took her breath away, and she had to force herself to go in as far as her shoulders.
“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 ma
ny 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.”