by Lorentz, Iny
Pouting, Marie looked at her friend. “I’d prefer to do without the company of these four entirely.”
“So would I, believe me, but it’s too risky to travel with the pilgrims on our own. There are too many men among them who’d throw us on our backs alongside the road without paying. And if we wait until they all leave, then we’ll have to deal with the monks who quickly forget their fear of God when they see two women traveling alone.”
Marie broke off a piece of Arnstein bread and put it in her mouth. “Why did we have to bump into these slobs, of all people? Couldn’t we have happened upon nicer whores?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full unless you want to look like Berta,” Hiltrud shot back.
III.
The first of the pilgrims left the next morning, but there was still work left for the six prostitutes. Since Marie was considered too fussy, she had just two customers. Hiltrud kept her promise and let into her tent only those customers whose appearance and odor corresponded to the rules she had drilled into Marie almost four years before. Some of the men she turned away cursed her and then lined up before the tents of the four other women who bedded anyone with three Haller pennies to spend.
Over the course of the day, more and more pilgrims said their last prayers in the chapel and departed. As the crowd grew smaller in front of the prostitutes’ tents and the church also emptied, Marie suddenly felt the need to say a prayer there, which surprised even her, for ever since that dreadful day in Constance, she had not entered a church nor found any consolation in faith. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders in an attempt to hide at least some of the yellow ribbons, she walked over to the pilgrimage church.
As she was about to enter, an old monk stepped in front of her. “This is the house of the Holy Virgin. Whores have no place here.”
For a moment Marie wondered whether to bribe him with a few coins, but then all her anger at her treatment before the Constance episcopal court boiled over. Drawing the shawl tighter around her shoulders, she dodged to one side to escape the monk as he reached out to grab her. She saw both the disappointment and the lust in his face, and knew he wanted her to use her body to pay the cost of entering the church. But she was not about to do him that favor. Of what value was her prayer if she had to prostitute herself to enter? According to the rules of the church, that was a crime for which a woman could expect at least several lashes.
The monk didn’t give up easily, but instead followed her for a distance over the meadow. Several pilgrims stopped him and pleaded with him to bless the devotional articles they had bought at the fair, allowing Marie to finally slip out of his reach.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she directed a silent prayer to the patron saint of courtesans, as prostitutes called Mary Magdalene. Then she sat down in the grass beside Hiltrud’s goats, running her fingers through their fur.
Hiltrud came over and joined her. “You were right, Marie. I earned less today than usual, but I feel much better.”
Marie leaned her head on Hiltrud’s shoulder. “I’m glad. Even if we’re only whores, disrespected even by those regarded as dishonorable in the cities, we still have our dignity.”
Hiltrud stared at the waves gently cresting in the lake. “We shouldn’t have gone to Arnstein. I could see there the future I gave up because my father valued the coins of a whoremonger more than his own child. Even the lowest serfs have it better than we do.”
“You mustn’t think about the past, or about what might still happen,” someone answered for Marie.
Looking up, the two women saw Gerlind standing there. She grinned at them toothlessly, but her voice sounded bitter.
Marie understood what Gerlind meant. The old woman had dreamed of a quiet place where she could spend the last years of her life in peace and a small degree of happiness, but just when she had attained her goal, she had been forced back out onto the street. Marie was about to say something to cheer her up, but then Gerlind started waving her walking stick at them. “First, I want to make something clear. I’m the leader of this group.” Gerlind directed her words less at Hiltrud than at Marie, and her voice sounded shrill. “I heard from Berta that you spent last winter as a nobleman’s bed warmer. Don’t try to make anything out of that. You’re no better than any other whore and will have to do things the way we do.”
Unlike the woman Marie had known four years before, Gerlind was now an old hag consumed with envy. Marie felt like lashing out, but she knew that for the time being, she’d have her hands full just trying to avoid a fight.
“Neither Hiltrud nor I dispute your right to be leader. Since we’ll be traveling companions for the next few days, we need to get along with one another.”
A thousand wrinkles spread across Gerlind’s face as she smiled smugly. “It’s good you see it that way, but before we let you join us, I have something to tell you. The four of us—Berta, Fita, Märthe, and I—have decided to put a fourth of what we earn in a common travel fund that I will manage. If you come along, you’ll have to do the same.”
Gerlind knew that two prostitutes traveling alone wouldn’t make it safely to the next marketplace, and she was making the most of that fact. About to flare up in anger, Hiltrud caught herself, bit her lip, and stared into the water. Marie also had a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue. Since Hiltrud and she made a lot more money than the other four combined, this requirement was nothing less than extortion.
Raising her stick, Gerlind spoke again. “I’m not finished. The four of us also agreed that we should stay together until the fall. So don’t get any ideas that you can take off at the next opportunity, or we will tell all the other whores how malicious and deceitful you are, so no one will ever take you on again as traveling companions.” Marie looked at Hiltrud questioningly. Gerlind’s intent was obvious. The old woman knew that she and her companions would have trouble making enough to get through the coming winter, and they wanted to have these two cash cows around to pull them through as needed.
“It looks like we’ll have to accept your conditions, Gerlind, but don’t think that we’re happy about it.” Hiltrud glared in contempt at the old prostitute, then turned around to pet her goats. Gerlind moved away from her former friend and stepped closer to Marie, reaching for her as if she wanted to shake her. “How was it in that castle? Did you earn a lot?”
Pushing aside Gerlind’s cramped, clawlike hands, Marie shook her head. “Free food and drink and a few shillings when we left, that was all.” That wasn’t quite true, as Lady Mechthild’s payment would at least cover the rent for a simple cabin and provisions for the coming winter, and in addition to those savings, Marie still had the gold Württemberg guilders, but she saw no reason to taunt Gerlind.
In the meantime, Märthe had joined the group. “I was just at church,” she said with a blissful gaze. “It’s beautiful. The altar is richly decorated, and I felt as if the Holy Virgin statue was about to step off her pedestal and embrace me.”
Marie looked up in amazement “How did you get into the church? A monk at the portal turned me away.”
“Well, the venerable brother standing there also told me that it wasn’t appropriate for a fallen woman to enter through the portal of a sacred house, but he was kind enough to let me in through the vestry.”
“What did you give him for doing that?”
Märthe gave her a blissful smile. “We spent a few minutes in the vestry relieving the pain in his loins. That, too, is a deed pleasing to God.”
Marie wondered if Märthe was really so stupid as to believe that. Perhaps she was simply pious in her own way, like Fita, who had once served a whole monastery full of monks just so she could pray before the statue of the Mother of God.
Märthe nudged Marie with her foot. “By the way, the righteous brother asked me to send you his greetings. He said you could come to him anytime he’s not busy with the pilgrims. As a reward for your compliance,
he’ll let you into the church.”
Marie clenched her fists. Märthe wasn’t just dumb; she was also as annoying as a fly. Refraining once more from blurting out what was right on the tip of her tongue, Marie explained to the girl that she had no intention of going to church.
Märthe stamped her foot angrily. “Then the pious brothers will be very disappointed.”
I can imagine so, Marie thought scornfully. No doubt the monks in this remote place suffered from a lack of submissive women. A compliant prostitute who believed their glib talk was just what they were looking for.
IV.
The next morning the six women bid farewell to Saint Marien am Stein. Before leaving, Fita and Märthe quickly ran to the massive church to kiss its walls one last time. Since they were gone for a while, Marie assumed they had encountered a few of the monks suffering from pain in their loins. The phrase amused Marie. In her opinion, most men suffered from this illness, or there wouldn’t be any prostitutes. Since the others had already taken down their tents, Märthe and Fita had to hurry upon their return, but the few things they had were quickly packed and the group left shortly afterward. At the top of the first hill, Marie turned around to look at the lake and the church down below.
From above, the pilgrimage site looked like her image of heaven as a child: calm, peaceful, and untouched by the human hand, a place where angels dwelled. The willows along the shore gleamed white in the splendor of their flowering branches, and the pilgrimage flag flew atop the church steeple. Across the peninsula stood the monastery, looking like a fortress with its massive walls and small narrow windows. The monks even called it a fortress of belief.
Marie wondered to which of the three reigning popes these monastic orders belonged—Rome, Avignon, or Pisa. No matter which it was, the monks didn’t take their obedience to the church as seriously as their own needs, as if the hell they always preached about was reserved only for others. Marie thought about the great church council scheduled for Constance in the fall. Perhaps a divine wind would arise to sweep away the depraved monks and priests who called themselves servants of God but had only malice instead of consolation for those dealt a hard blow by fate.
“Are you brooding about your former fiancé again?” Strangely, this time Hiltrud didn’t sound facetious. Her face looked tense, and she didn’t wait for Marie’s answer. “I was really happy to see Gerlind again, but the change I see in her troubles me. If I start becoming like her, I’ll take a rope and hang myself, no matter what the priests say. Purgatory can’t be worse than living the way she does now.”
Marie glanced at the front of the procession, where the four other harlots were mingling with a small group of pilgrims who had also set out that morning. “We’ve got to look around as soon as possible for other traveling companions. If we drift around with these fleabags much longer, no respectable customer will ever look at us again. I’m more afraid of that than of incurring Berta’s wrath.”
Laughing, Hiltrud shook her head. “How are you going to prevent the others from coming along with us? I’m afraid those four are going to stick to us like glue and scare away any other prostitutes who might be willing to travel with us. The only way we’ll get rid of them is if the devil comes and takes them.”
At nightfall they arrived at a courtyard inn set behind a wall. A servant told them they were not allowed inside the wall and would have to set up their tents at the other end of the meadow so the night watchman could make sure there was no trouble. Marie and Hiltrud were happy with this arrangement, but Gerlind, who approached their campfire after nightfall, was annoyed.
She made a few snide comments about servants at the inn ruining their business, but when Hiltrud disagreed, saying that the innkeeper’s rule wouldn’t keep interested customers away, Gerlind got nasty. “You lazy riffraff, you’re only standing up for him because you don’t want to do anything. Do you think we’re here just for the fun of it?”
Hiltrud glanced up at her with a studied look of innocence. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Gerlind’s face turned dark with rage. “You understand me very well. It’s time you two came up with some money. Or do you intend to live at our expense?”
Marie wanted to slap the old hussy in the face for this outrageous remark. But since they needed to stay with the other women for protection, there was nothing she could do but clench her fists under her clothing and answer as coolly as possible.
“First of all, we have our own provisions and don’t take any food from you. Second, you are not our whoremonger. When it comes to choosing our customers, we’re on our own. I don’t just offer myself to anyone with a few pennies.”
Gerlind hissed furiously. “If you don’t earn something pretty soon, you’ll have to give up some of your savings to pay your share of the travel fund.”
Putting her hand on the ax she’d been using to cut up dry twigs for the fire, Marie glared at Gerlind, jutting out her chin. “Try to come and get it.”
The old woman stared at the ax, spat on the ground, and snorted angrily as she left. Soon afterward, Hiltrud and Marie could see her talking quietly with Berta and casting glances back at them.
Sparks flew as Hiltrud poked around in the fire with a stick. “We’d best take care, as I’m afraid Gerlind and Berta have it in for us.”
Nodding bitterly, Marie took the pan off the fire and dripped some bacon grease onto their bread. “The next few days won’t be easy,” she said, chewing on the bread. “Except for a bit of flour, we’ve used all our provisions, and I have no intention of touching Gerlind’s stew.”
“I heard one of the pilgrims say there’s a little market in the next small town we’ll get to tomorrow. Perhaps we can buy something there.”
Marie gave a cynical snort. “If we can convince the guards at the gate with two Hallers that we mean to spend money there, they’ll certainly let us in.”
“Indeed, if we come to spend money, the honorable townswomen will be glad to overlook the yellow ribbons, but that won’t keep them from asking outrageous prices for bad goods. That’s the lesser of our problems, though. The larger one is that if Gerlind and the others notice we’re buying food, they might come along with us and try to have us pay for their provisions.”
“That would be just fine by them,” Marie cackled contemptuously.
“In any case, the others mustn’t find out how much money we have and where we’ve hidden it.”
Marie nodded silently, as she knew how tricky Berta was and how that had cost a number of her clients. Several times Hiltrud had told the fat harlot that one of these days she’d be caught stealing from the men, and have her nose cut off as punishment. But Berta would have the last laugh if she stole things from other prostitutes.
“We’ll have to take turns keeping watch. We have more to fear from our traveling companions than from the fellows in the inn, because if one of them bothers us, he’ll have to deal with the innkeeper. He’s got a reputation for keeping order.”
“That’s sad but true.” Marie sighed. “Lie down. I don’t feel much like sleeping.”
Hiltrud put another log on the fire and looked at their meager supply of firewood. It wasn’t enough to last the night, as they had had to share what they gathered with Gerlind and the others. She reminded Marie again to keep the fire burning slowly without letting it die.
V.
The next morning, Marie found some dry grass and bushes near their camping site and was able to rekindle their fire, cooking a few pancakes with the remaining fat, flour, and honey. Berta, who had a good sense of smell, raised her head and sniffed. Her persistence was rewarded, as Hiltrud finally handed her one of the pancakes even though there weren’t enough for both Marie and herself. Berta’s gratitude went no farther than telling the others that Marie and Hiltrud had nothing left for them.
As the two broke camp, packing up and preparing to move on, Mä
rthe stepped in front of Hiltrud and placed her hands on her hips. “Normally traveling companions share everything. But you seem to be saving all of the goodies for yourselves.”
“You get back what you put into the common pot.” “Hiltrud replied. “You want to take advantage of there being four of you in order to take a quarter of our earnings. You can’t expect us to thank you for that.”
“Then it’s about time you started earning some money,” Märthe shot back.
Berta reared up alongside Märthe, trying to look fiercer than she was. “And you should hand over a quarter of what you earned in Saint Marien am Stein.”
Hiltrud couldn’t be intimidated. “Our association began the moment we left Saint Marien. I don’t see any reason to give you money we already earned there.”
Making a face, Gerlind pounded her walking stick on the ground. “As you will.” It sounded almost like a threat.
Hiltrud shrugged and walked around Berta and Märthe without saying a word. The goats followed her, bleating, so the other women had to jump aside so the cart wouldn’t roll over their feet.
Shortly after noon, they arrived at the little city of Wallfingen. Gerlind and her companions set up their tents and waited for customers. Marie and Hiltrud did the same, but more to ensure privacy than to entertain customers, as the market in Wallfingen was too small to attract many travelers, and the townspeople had access to girls in the local brothels. The two friends were nonetheless in a good mood and weren’t even annoyed that the market supervisor immediately swooped down on them like a falcon to collect their market tax.
Marie and Hiltrud smiled at each other when the sound of Berta’s cursing drowned out even the bellowing of the animals. She was offended because the market supervisor refused to accept the taxes in the form she offered.
“I’d prefer money,” she heard the man reply, laughing. “And as far as your merchandise is concerned, I’d rather take the goods from that young woman.” He pointed at Marie and raised his eyebrows in question. Marie didn’t take him up on his offer, however, handing him tax money rather than letting him into her tent.