The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series)

by Lorentz, Iny

  Rupert greeted his brother with a friendly smile in which only an attentive observer could have detected a hint of mockery and condescension. “You can take special pleasure in your food today, for young Steinzell is dead and the cooper Mombert was accused of his murder.”

  Plunking his mug down on the table, Konrad laughed so hard that the seams of his jerkin threatened to burst. “No doubt another one of your little tricks, eh? You get the man out of the way for me and give Waldkron the girl that’s he’s been chasing. Good! Then that abbot can finally cease his lovesick whining. That is, if you really can manage to reduce this cooper’s daughter to bondage. What do you think Waldkron will do to you if his little darling winds up on the scaffold? I’m just wondering if you’ll take it too far someday and fall victim to one of your own schemes.”

  Rupert clenched his fists but otherwise managed to conceal the hatred raging inside him. Unlike their father, Heinrich, who had treated Rupert like a vassal but had respected him for his services, Konrad despised Rupert and mocked him every time they met.

  “He won’t do anything, because everything I do is successful. When Mombert Flühi is broken on the wheel, his daughter will be in the abbot’s bed.”

  Konrad von Keilburg snorted. “I hope that’s not just idle talk. Instead of worrying about this silly abbot, you should see to it that I get my hands on Degenhard von Steinzell. The simplest thing to do, of course, would be for me to split Degenhard’s head open and seize his land.”

  “It will be a lot easier than that, dear brother. Now that Philipp is dead, Degenhard’s daughter, Roswitha, is Degenhard’s only heir. Have her married off to one of your vassals, and her father’s possessions will fall into your lap like ripened fruit.”

  “Yes, I’ll give the order today for the abduction of Roswitha von Steinzell. I only have to decide who should marry her.” For a moment, Keilburg forgot the pork loin on his plate and thought hard.

  The counselor knew that his brother would neither tolerate any opposition nor hesitate to mercilessly beat anyone who didn’t agree with him, and he would therefore have to proceed as diplomatically as possible.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. People might suspect you were behind the death of young Steinzell, and there are plenty of people close to the kaiser who are just waiting for a chance to throw a noose around your neck. Wait until the alleged murderer of the nobleman has been condemned and executed. Then people will think you took advantage of a good opportunity when you take Steinzell’s daughter.”

  “But what if this bastard Degenhard marries her off first? Then I’ll look foolish.”

  “It’s possible he’ll betroth her, but the wedding certainly wouldn’t take place before the mourning period is over, and it would be easy to prevent. I don’t think anyone will take the girl if someone else has already made her pregnant.”

  Roaring with mirth, Konrad looked at his brother with a mischievous grin. “Would you like to take that on yourself? For all I care, you can have Roswitha. Since you managed to get our old man to recognize you as a legitimate son before he died, you are her equal. Sir Rupert von Steinzell! Don’t you like the sound of that?”

  Rupert’s smile broadened, and a strange glaze came over his eyes. “No, no. You can give Roswitha to one of your men. I prefer to live in the city and have no desire to live in a drafty castle at the edge of the Black Forest.”

  “As you will.” Konrad von Keilburg’s suggestion was not completely serious, and he was relieved when Rupert dismissed it. Rupert was useful to his brother as a dishonest counselor, but as a knight in a distant castle he would be an unwelcome competitor with plans only to expand his fiefdom. “In any case, I’m happy that the Tyrolean duke Friedrich has been declared an outlaw by the kaiser, as now his lands in the Black Forest and on the Rhine are free for anyone to attack. I think I’ll be the first to take some of it.”

  “I’d advise you to exercise a bit of patience and not do anything rash that you will come to regret.”

  Konrad pounded his fist on the table so hard that his plate flew up and gravy splattered across the inlaid woodwork. “You’re a damned coward, Rupert. If you want something, you’ve got to act.”

  Mulling over his brother’s words, Rupert shook his head. “But you have to wait for the right moment, dear brother. Today the kaiser is angry at Duke Friedrich, but tomorrow things could change. The Habsburger has many friends and allies who will stand up for him, and Kaiser Sigismund can’t afford to anger them all. He has to think about Albrecht von Österreich, the Tyrolean’s cousin. I’m sure that Friedrich will cancel his decree in the next two months. All the duke will have to do then will be to promise not to recognize any pope not selected by the kaiser. If you start a war now over the Rhinelands, we’ll soon have to face not just the duke, but his relatives and allies. You must be content with luring away some of his vassals and getting control of their castles, and as long as you do this legally, Friedrich can’t do anything about it.”

  Konrad’s expression darkened again. “Stop showing off how clever you are. In truth, you are as devious as a scorpion and as gutless as a rat. If you didn’t have unprincipled scum to wield your daggers for you, you’d never have attempted your little trick with Philipp, as you don’t have the courage to actually face your victims. It’s clear that your mother was a worthless serf that people used and then forgot.”

  Count Konrad waited to see if Rupert would lash out at him. He would have liked nothing more than to slash him across his smooth face.

  The counselor could see the malevolence in Konrad’s eyes, and he withdrew to the door. “I’ll leave you to your pork roast, brother, as I have some things to do.” Bowing stiffly in farewell, he stepped out into the hallway.

  Rupert was furious at his half brother’s arrogance and crassness, but he was also amused. The man was much too gullible. Their father would have been amazed at the document by which he supposedly recognized his bastard son. After his death, all Rupert needed was a sheet of parchment, a clever hand, and the quickly copied seal of the old count in order to gain legitimate standing. Caught by surprise, Konrad had cursed at him, but he hadn’t doubted the authenticity of the document.

  To Rupert’s relief, Konrad had not understood that with that document, the counselor had become his lawful heir; nor did he suspect the goal that Rupert had set for himself, or he would have killed him right there on the spot. That aim was nothing less than seizing his brother’s castle and acquiring the title of count for himself. Rupert smiled. Judging from the way his brother behaved, Rupert would soon reach his goal.

  His pleasant musing was interrupted by a violent pounding on the door he had installed at the bottom of the stairway to detract eavesdroppers and unwanted disturbances. Opening the door, he found himself staring at Abbot Hugo, whose face was purple with excitement.

  “I must speak with you.”

  “Please come in,” replied Rupert with an open, warm smile that he had rehearsed with great effort. Though it looked convincing, it was nothing but a practiced façade, like the one he used to destroy his opponents in court.

  Hugo von Waldkron nervously followed the counselor into his office. “The cooper murdered Steinzell, just as you said he would. What about the girl?”

  “As soon as Mombert Flühi is convicted, his daughter will be declared a serf and handed over to you.”

  “That could take months because of the case with Master Hus, but you promised to get me Mombert’s daughter as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll make sure the trial is quick, but if we don’t do everything in an orderly fashion, we’ll both have trouble. Until her father is declared guilty, the girl is considered a citizen of the city, and the council would put you on trial if you touched her.”

  The abbot seized Rupert and shook him. “I must have Hedwig at once. Do you think I rented the house in Maurach just to dream about her there? I’m dying of pas
sion.”

  “If you’re in dire straits, go find a maid or a whore, but don’t bother me and my plans with your impatience. What does it matter if you have to wait for the girl another week or two? Before long, you can do with her as you wish, but for now, leave me alone. I’m busy.” Rupert removed the abbot’s hand from his jerkin, opened the door, and pointed down the stairs.

  With a strained expression, Hugo von Waldkron descended the staircase, but then suddenly stopped by the front door. Smirking evilly, he ran across the courtyard to the inn, his robe fluttering around him. Entering his room, he closed the door behind him, rummaged about in his chest, and pulled out a long, carved wooden box. The table was soon covered with finely shaven leaves of parchment, a pen case, an inkpot, sealing wax, and various stamps. Picking up a leaf and smoothing it out, Hugo began to write. He poured fine sand over the parchment to dry the ink and dripped wax along the leaf’s lower edge. Then he picked up one of the stamps, examined it carefully, and pressed it gently on the still-oozing wax. When he removed the stamp, he could see the imprint, the Free Imperial City of Constance.

  Proofreading his document, he cursed Rupert for being such a fool. Why should he wait for the girl? This wasn’t the first document he had falsified. Indeed, a large portion of his abbey’s wealth had been acquired this way. The heirs of dead noblemen rarely questioned a transfer of property or villages as the price for heavenly salvation, and when they did, the courts quickly stepped in and set them straight. The abbot assumed that Rupert must have also gained some of his success this way; after all, the counselor had once been his student and had helped Hugo alter the old abbot’s testament in his favor.

  Feeling like he was always a few steps ahead of everyone else, including his talented pupil, Rupert, the abbot rolled up the parchment, put it in a case, and left the room. His servant was sitting downstairs in the kitchen, flirting with one of Rupert’s maids. The women were attractive enough, and as the abbot had learned from experience, not averse to being at their lord’s service, but the thought of Hedwig stifled any longing he might have felt for these willing maids. Hedwig wasn’t a great beauty like the blond harlot he had seen on one of his ferry trips. But whores were too fresh for him, and they didn’t give themselves to him the way he wished, nor did they have the veneer of innocence he loved so much that made Hedwig Flühi stand out so clearly from all the other women in the city.

  Becoming impatient, he heard his servant’s voice in the kitchen and shouted, “Selmo, can’t you see I need you?”

  The man immediately jumped up and hurried toward him. Even though he wasn’t a monk, he wore the robe of a Benedictine brother as his abbot ordered. Because of his dress, people treated him with greater respect and rarely asked questions when he was on an errand for his master.

  “I’m going over to Maurach for a little while,” the abbot declared after they’d left the house. “Follow me to the harbor, then go to Saint Peter’s and pray there until it is dark. I don’t want anyone to see you in the city before that. At nightfall, go to the tower, show the watchman there the document I’ll give you, and have him hand the cooper’s daughter over to you. But for God’s sake don’t forget to keep the document and bring it back with you.”

  The servant smiled knowingly. “Yes, master, I know. It’s not the first time I’ve carried out an assignment for you. Shall I follow you with the girl or take her to Counselor Rupert’s house?”

  “Naturally you will bring the girl directly to me. And unless you want to feel my wrath, keep your hands off her.”

  “Oh, of course, master! I would never touch a woman intended for you,” Selmo replied, not altogether truthfully. “But when you are through with her, can you pass her along to me?”

  “Of course! After I tire of her, you can have her, but I think you’ll have to be patient for a while.”

  Chuckling, the servant trotted off behind his master until they reached the harbor. Pointing to a small boat moored off to one side, the abbot looked at Selmo.

  “The boat’s owner has no objection to traveling across the lake at night and won’t ask any prying questions. He’ll be waiting for you at nightfall.”

  “Why don’t you take the girl with you now?”

  The abbot smacked him on the chest. “Don’t pretend to be dumber than you are. The busybodies in the bars would start wagging their tongues if I took a young girl on a ship in broad daylight. At night all cats are gray, and if you pull your hood over your robe, nobody will recognize you. Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s a bottle of poppy juice. Give it to the girl so she doesn’t make a fuss. And just to be safe, take another monk’s robe from the church to hide her from prying eyes.”

  Taking the bottle and document roll from the abbot, Selmo walked slowly toward Saint Peter’s, as if lost in thought. Hugo von Waldkron, for his part, got on a boat bound for Meersburg, which was near the rented house in Maurach. A short time later, he was sitting with other passengers on a large crate, smiling gently, as was appropriate for a true servant of Christ.

  XIII.

  In the course of his aimless wanderings, Wilmar happened upon Hugo von Waldkron and his companion, and noticed that the abbot’s strained expression of late had been replaced by a smug grin. Though he couldn’t understand the men’s whispered conversation, the abbot’s gestures toward the tower were unmistakable. The journeyman’s concerns for Hedwig grew when he noticed the abbot surreptitiously handing over parchment rolls and a small bottle to his servant. With a smirk, Selmo watched his master leave on the boat, repeatedly checking under his robe to make sure the parchment roll was still there.

  Before setting out, the abbot’s boat had to wait for a boat bound for Lindau to pass. Glancing at the second boat, Wilmar saw Melcher standing at the stern, staring at the city. Briefly wondering how Melcher had found enough money for the rather expensive trip, Wilmar noticed Selmo leaving, and he followed him without giving Melcher a second thought.

  The servant looked up at the tower as he passed, and Wilmar was convinced that some vile deed would be carried out that day and that the victim would be Hedwig. There were few secrets in a city like Constance, and since it was common knowledge that Hugo von Waldkron had rented a house in a secluded part of Maurach, Wilmar drew the right conclusion.

  In despair, he considered his options for freeing Hedwig from the clutches of the notorious abbot. If only he had the strength of the mythical Hercules, he could have torn down the tower and carried her away. But he was just a poor journeyman who’d lost his master, and he would be lucky if another cooper would even take him in after what had happened. Overwhelmed by both his and Hedwig’s misfortune, and blinded by tears, he staggered on through the city.

  Arriving at the Scotch Gate, he bumped into a group of palatine foot soldiers. Wilmar stood there, breathing heavily. Snapping him back to the present, away from the question of whether to end his miserable existence at once or kill the abbot first, he stared at the departing soldiers and couldn’t help thinking of the dashing young captain who’d been his master’s guest. Perhaps Michel could help save Hedwig, but if he did, then her heart and gratitude would belong to him.

  Struggling with his emotions, Wilmar finally lowered his head in shame for even considering his own feelings above the welfare of the girl he loved. If he wanted to continue living and hold his head high, he’d have to do everything possible to help Hedwig, even if it meant pasting a fake smile on his face and having to watch, brokenhearted, as she found her happiness with another man.

  “Please, sir, can you tell me where I can find your captain, Michel?”

  “Either at the beautiful harlot’s place on the Ziegelgraben or in Adler’s Tavern on Katzgasse.” Scratching his head, he mulled it over. “I think he was headed for the tavern.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Bowing briefly, Wilmar ran as fast as he could to the Katzgasse. It was nearly noon, and the tavern was so full that people were stan
ding outside having their soup and bread by the front door, mugs of wine set at their feet. Wilmar pushed his way through the packed crowd in the tavern and found the captain in a niche in a far corner, much to his relief. Shifting his feet restlessly, the journeyman cleared his throat. Since the captain still didn’t look up from his empty mug, Wilmar took a deep breath and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Michel hadn’t noticed Wilmar until that moment, as he was deep in thought about Marie. She wouldn’t respond to his questions when he visited, and she stayed disappointingly silent and detached in bed. Michel couldn’t figure out whether he was more annoyed at Marie, or at himself for throwing good money out the window for a few disappointing minutes with her. So when Wilmar touched his shoulder, Michel flared with rage and instinctively reached for his sword.

  “What do you want, boy?”

  “I must speak with you urgently, Captain. Privately.” He sounded so serious and desperate that Michel reluctantly nodded.

  “Did Mombert send you?”

  “No, but it concerns my master and his daughter.” Wilmar turned around, searching for a place he and Michel could talk without a dozen curious people listening in. Understanding at once, Michel took his mug in one hand and Wilmar by the other, then led him to the foot of the stairs.

  “We’ll go up to my old room. My brother has lodgers there, but they are away at the moment. I only hope for your sake that you have something important to tell me.”

  Wilmar nodded excitedly, and once they got upstairs, he gave Michel a brief account of recent events.

  The captain cursed. “They say Mombert Flühi killed the Steinzell nobleman? I can’t believe that.”

  “Master Mombert certainly didn’t do it. He shouts a lot, but he’s never hurt anyone.”