by Lorentz, Iny
Luck was on her side, as she found the inn at once. Tiptoeing in through the front door, she could hear loud voices coming from the taproom. There was a quiet moment when only the rattling of dice in a leather cup could be heard, followed by cheers and an obscene curse. She sneaked past the taproom to her own room, where she found Hiltrud anxiously staring at the dwindling light of a small candle stump.
Smiling with relief, she looked at Marie. “Here you are, finally. I was afraid you’d absconded with the monk.”
“Or the other way around,” Marie replied. “All joking aside, we must leave at once. Our lives are in danger.”
“Hiltrud gazed at her in astonishment. “What happened?”
“Jodokus was trying to blackmail Rupert, and Rupert sent Utz to kill him.”
“The same Utz who raped you?” Hiltrud could see the sheer terror in Marie’s face.
Marie tried to smile calmly but couldn’t. “Yes, he’s the one. It won’t be long before he figures out I have exactly what he was trying to take from Jodokus, and then we’ll be next.”
Hiltrud shivered as if she were freezing. “Then let’s leave. I’m only sorry we paid two weeks in advance for the room.”
Marie demurred. “I’m not sorry enough to stay. I’d prefer a night out under the stars to this stinking hole.”
“As I’ve said before, you’re too fussy,” Hiltrud joked as she quickly packed her belongings. Then she tied them all together in a bundle, which she hoisted over her shoulder. Before opening the door, she blew out the candle and put the stump in her pocket.
“After all, we paid for it,” she said to Marie, who slipped silently past her and hurried down the stairs. To her relief, they left without being noticed, fleeing for the second time that year into the unknown.
PART FIVE
THE COUNCIL
I.
Marie sat on a log, drawing lines with her toes in the soft sand. She was bored, and so were the others. Hiltrud crouched in front of her tent, sewing with grim determination, and the two prostitutes they had joined after their abrupt departure from Strasbourg the previous year were sitting around with sullen faces, staring at the marketplace as if it were to blame for the lack of customers.
Helma, the woman from Saxony, was a pretty, young brunette with a round face and sparkling brown eyes. Nina, a southern woman with dark, curly hair and black eyes, was tiny, reaching just up to Marie’s chin. Her exotic appearance and delicate figure with voluptuous curves attracted just as many men as Marie’s angelic beauty. Here in Frundeck on the Neckar River, however, it seemed there were no well-to-do customers with full purses. If a man happened to approach, he usually shook his head regretfully on hearing the price, and continued on to the penny whores.
“No wealthy men, no merchants, not even moneyed workers with fur-trimmed coats are here at the market,” Helma complained in her heavy Saxon dialect. “It’s not possible that all the prosperous men have been swallowed up by the earth.”
Hiltrud nodded grimly. “It wasn’t like this at all last autumn in Kiebingen and Bempflingen. Back then, so many men were crowding into our tents that we had to turn most of them away. But now, in the spring, when we usually do our best business, there’s nobody around who can afford us. If we’d known that, we’d have stayed in our comfortable winter quarters for a few more weeks.” She conveniently forgot her complaints about the drafty cottage with its defective chimney and leaky roof.
“We could offer ourselves for half price,” Nina suggested with her charming accent. “Otherwise, we’ll go hungry.” That was an exaggeration, as the Italian woman’s purse was still full from the previous year. Nevertheless, she wasn’t the only one to view this situation as alarming.
Marie was also worried. She had some savings from the year before, and also Siegward von Riedburg’s purse brimming with golden guilders, but she was saving this money for her revenge and wasn’t about to spend a single coin on daily living expenses.
Well aware of Marie’s fortune but frustrated by her friend’s unwillingness to listen to reason, Hiltrud had given up trying to give her advice. So when Marie commiserated with the others, expressing concern that she wouldn’t even be able to afford a swineherd’s cabin the next winter if things continued this way, Hiltrud gave her a derisive look. Then she glanced over at the penny whores’ tents in the meadow across the way, where she saw more than a dozen men standing around, waiting.
“Those filthy women who ordinarily are no competition are earning more than us,” she said in a tone suggesting she took that as a personal affront.
Helma undid her thick head of hair, then started to braid it up again.
“You’re right. To stimulate some business, I think I’ll offer myself for a shilling to the next man who comes along.”
Marie raised her hand in warning. “I wouldn’t do that. If we offer ourselves for less here, we’ll have to do the same thing at the next market. Sooner or later we’ll have as many fellows in our tents as they do over there.”
Helma groaned. “But what should we do? Yesterday I had only one customer, and today not a one yet.”
“The man over there looks like he could pay.” Nina pointed toward a short, middle-aged man in ornate, fashionable clothing: tight red trousers with a blue-and-white striped codpiece, a white-and-green coat that just barely covered his waist, and a green felt hat with a red feather on top. The man had a rough-looking face, like that of a servant who had come upon money. Just then, he was walking past the tents of the penny whores, sizing some of them up, frowning, and shaking his head. Then, to the accompaniment of the rejected women’s jeers, he headed toward Marie’s group.
As he stood in front of them, his face brightened. “Well, I like you four. What do you think about earning some good money, eating well, and wearing the finest clothes?”
Hiltrud burst out laughing. “We think a lot of that. But we’d like to find out what the catch is first.”
The man raised his hands in feigned horror. “No catch, for heaven’s sake. My offer is sincere. If you’re clever, you’ll earn enough in one year to last you the rest of your life.”
“Thanks, but we don’t need to put ourselves in a brothel owner’s hands. You scoundrels steal our money and shack us up with the kind of mangy old goats that no honest woman would touch even with a knight’s iron glove.”
Waving him off, Hiltrud turned her back on him.
He walked around her and grabbed her by the chin. “I can’t let you get away with that, my darling. Do I look like a brothel owner? If you come with me, you’ll work on your own and also receive a genuine golden guilder as an advance from the honorable council of the city of Constance.”
Marie was startled to hear the name of her hometown, though at the same time she remembered that the planned council must have begun. Her first response was to leave immediately to ruin her former fiancé, but her fear of being recognized and whipped again was greater than her wish to watch Rupert being destroyed in person.
The man released his hold on Hiltrud and puffed up his chest. “I’m Jobst, the whore procurer, but I don’t run a brothel. It’s my job to find the prettiest courtesans near and far and to bring them to Constance so they can attend to our noble guests. The four of you meet my high expectations, and it would be a shame if you didn’t come take a piece of the pie there.”
Helma and Nina looked flattered, and the little Italian girl even cooed and asked if he’d like to step into her tent.
“If you’ll come with me to Constance afterward, then gladly.” Jobst rubbed a lock of her gleaming black hair between his fingers as if trying to decide whether the color was real. “You truly are a dainty morsel and could earn a lot of money in Constance—as could you all.” His gaze drifted over Hiltrud and Helma, and came to rest on Marie.
“There’s not much going on here,” he said with a sweep of his arm. “Ev
ery respectable man with a few guilders in his pocket has left for Constance. The whole world is gathering there now: knights, counts, kings, but also high men in the church, scholars, merchants, city authorities, and representatives of the guilds. I’m telling you, you’d make a fortune there.”
“Well, you four pretty ladies? How about it? Would you like to come with me and earn a gold guilder as an advance? I’ll guarantee you’ll make a lot of money.”
“In truth, I suspect we’ll be spreading our legs for a few lousy pennies from the riffraff that will be drawn into Constance in the wake of the noblemen. No, Jobst, I’ll not fall for your slick words.” Marie’s sharp voice frightened the two women who didn’t know her as well as Hiltrud did.
Annoyed, Jobst shook his head. “Good God, woman, you’re as beautiful as an angel and will be able to attract the best of the noblemen in Constance.”
“I hardly believe that a count or a prelate will come into the tent of a wandering harlot.” Marie pursed her lips and stood up to leave, but Jobst blocked her way.
“For a reasonable price, I’ll provide quarters for you and your friends, even though accommodations in Constance are so scarce that even noblemen are forced to sleep on straw in stables and many people have to stay on the other side of the lake.”
But even that didn’t convince Marie. “In a whorehouse, no doubt, whose owner pays you to find willing girls.” As she was about to push him aside, he stomped his foot on the ground and shouted at her in irritation.
“Good God, woman, are you really so dense, or are you just pretending to be? I’ll get a little house where you four can work independently. You won’t owe me anything, because I’m paid a premium by the council for every courtesan I bring to them.”
Hips swaying, Helma approached and took Marie by the shoulder. “I’m in favor of accepting this offer. Even if only half of what he’s telling us is true, it’s better than our current situation.”
“I’m also in favor of going to Constance,” Nina chimed in, clearly having already made up her mind. “A lot of my countrymen will be there, and I’ll be able to speak my own language.”
Hiltrud walked over to Marie and hugged her as she would a child, making it clear that she would stay with Marie even if the other women went.
Marie’s head was spinning. How she would love to go to Constance! But she also remembered the verdict of a merciless judge.
“I don’t like the idea,” Marie said with a strained look. “A friend of mine was so badly beaten in Constance that she almost died, and I have other reasons to avoid the city.”
Jobst roared with laughter. “Aha, I see. You’ve gotten into some trouble there. Don’t worry, sweetheart. When you travel with me, you travel with the kaiser’s protection. No one will dare lay a hand on you, and the bailiffs must allow you to move about the city freely.”
The procurer winked suggestively at Marie and patted her cheek. “The kaiser has granted protection and free passage to all and declared a general peace in the Reich that will last from when the council starts until several weeks after it ends, since many noblemen gathering in Constance are engaged in feuds with one another. This peace applies not just to council attendees but to all those who contribute to its success. And a courtesan, it seems to me, contributes at least as much as a praying monk or a merchant selling food.”
Perhaps the kaiser’s safe-conduct issue really will keep officials away from me, Marie thought. But Rupert and his henchmen wouldn’t pay it any mind, since the Rhine doesn’t give its victims back and no one would think twice about a missing harlot. However, she knew that if fear kept her from going near Rupert, she’d never be able to wreak her revenge.
She also considered that she was still in possession of Sir Otmar’s testament and Jodokus’s other documents. In the hands of a banished prostitute, these documents were worthless, but she was sure that in the hands of the right person, Jodokus’s notes and the documents could be the weapon that would finally destroy Count Konrad von Keilburg and Counselor Rupert Splendidus once and for all. But who was the right person? She realized that these documents would be worth more than gold to Dietmar von Arnstein and his wife. Sir Dietmar had been tricked by Rupert once already, however, and he would probably not prevail in his next exchange, either. But with the knight’s help, perhaps she could find someone even more powerful to take action against Keilburg. Perhaps she herself would be able to find a high-placed enemy of the counselor who would use the documents in court to destroy her enemies. She’d have to keep her eyes and ears open and spread her legs for important people.
Taking a deep breath, Marie raised her head and replied. “Fine, Jobst. We’ll come to Constance with you.”
Helma and Nina cheered, and Hiltrud let out a deep sigh that didn’t sound particularly relieved. The decision made, there was no going back, no matter what fate awaited Marie in Constance.
II.
It was early in the morning, and the lake was layered in a mist so dense that the island and its monastery were visible only in vague outlines. Fog billowed over the seawall and drifted like bizarre, deformed monsters through the still-deserted streets. Near the Saint Laurenz church, a young girl stepped through a doorway, looked around carefully, and ran down a narrow lane to Obermarkt Square. From there, she turned into the Ringgasse, which wound its way to a gate leading out of the city. Clad in a simple brown dress ordinarily worn only by maids, the girl had wrapped her upper body and head in a large threadbare shawl. Her solid cowhide shoes, however, were something a common maid could not afford.
She kept looking around anxiously, as if fearing discovery, and ducked into narrow side streets whenever she heard footsteps. But when she finally reached the Paradies Gate, she walked confidently toward the guard.
“You’re up early, Miss Hedwig.” The gatekeeper greeted her in a friendly voice, pointing at a small bunch of spring flowers in her hand. “You’re probably heading to potter’s field again, to your relatives’ graves.”
The girl nodded vigorously. “Indeed, Burkhard. Today is Annunciation Day, the day on which Marie was born and baptized, so I must pray for her and for the soul of her poor father.”
The gatekeeper shook his head slowly. “There are some who don’t approve of that.”
“I know, but that won’t keep me from going.” Instinctively Hedwig looked back at the house that had once belonged to Matthis Schärer but where Rupert Splendidus now lived. The counselor was not pleased that she revered her two deceased relatives, but he couldn’t forbid her from praying at her late uncle’s grave. Her mother scolded Hedwig for being stubborn and admonished her to stop angering the gentleman, so Hedwig hadn’t dared tell her she was going to visit the grave that morning. Though the counselor and a few others insisted that it was only a leprous beggar’s grave, neither she nor her father believed that.
The gatekeeper opened a small door in the gate and wished her a good day. Since she heard someone else approaching, she darted through the opening without answering, and hurried on. Just behind her, a middle-aged abbot approached the Paradies Gate and motioned silently to the guard to open the door. Scowling, Burkhard took his time opening the lock and swinging the door back, as he didn’t care for the fat abbot. The Benedictine arrogantly strode past him as if the gatekeeper were nothing more than an insect crawling around on the cobblestones in front of the gate. Burkhard wanted to call out to Hedwig and tell her to be careful, but when he peered through the gate, the girl had already disappeared into the fog. Burkhard was sure, however, that Abbot Hugo von Waldkron was also heading toward Brüel Field, the site of the Constance slaughterhouse, gallows, and potter’s field.
Hedwig Flühi, Master Mombert’s daughter, ran through the run-down area where beggars and drifters of Constance were taken to their eternal rest. Hurrying past unadorned mounds of dirt mostly covered with weeds, she stopped at a spot that looked quite different from the rest. When s
he had learned that her uncle was buried there, Hedwig had spread rich, dark soil over the grave and planted all kinds of flowers. Now she was delighted to find dozens of snowdrops blooming like bright shining stars as well as the first crocuses poking their green shoots out of the ground.
Stooping down, Hedwig smoothed over a rough patch where a dog had been digging, then looked sadly at the small new gravestone her father had put there recently. The first monument had been granite, but since the stone was smashed at least once a year, that became too expensive, and Mombert now had simple slabs of fired clay made as replacements. This marker was the fourth one since the dreadful events of the year 1410, and though no one knew who ruined the stones, Mombert and his daughter were convinced that Rupert Splendidus was the culprit. They knew that the counselor didn’t want to be reminded how he had come by his wealth, but Hedwig, who hated him with every fiber of her being, swore to do everything she could so that he wouldn’t forget.
She ran her hand lightly over the simple inscription on the stone that bore Matthis Schärer’s name. Marie’s name was also on the stone, though Master Matthis’s daughter was not buried there. Hedwig’s parents, like many others, didn’t think that Marie could have survived very long after her unusually severe beating. Hedwig was still haunted by nightmares of Marie’s whipping, for she had been wedged in between onlookers in the market square that day. Still, she couldn’t accept that Marie had died from it, as she didn’t believe God could be so unjust. Instead, she imagined her cousin living as a God-fearing hermit in some remote hideaway, where she’d be visited by forest animals that would come to her as they would to a saint.