by Iny Lorentz
When he lay down on her, he supported himself with his elbows and didn’t use his weight to press her into the pillows. Dietmar wasn’t as gentle as Herbmann, but he also wasn’t thinking only of his own pleasure. Marie felt nothing but was simply happy he didn’t hurt her, and she pretended to be excited in thanks for his consideration.
Just as he finished with a gasp of relief, the door opened and Lady Mechthild slipped in.
“You see, dear, this is better,” she said with a smile.
Dietmar rolled away from Marie and lay on his back, the guilty look on his face making his wife smile.
“Kiss me,” Mechthild demanded. He did so and looked relieved when she passionately reciprocated his tenderness.
“In a few months we will be able to once again enjoy the pleasure of our conjugal bed. Until then, Marie will take my place,” she explained, getting her breath back. “But we will continue to sleep side by side at night and talk with each other. Now that you are relaxed and not so much in the grip of your anger at the Keilburgs, we need to consider what to do. Simply starting a feud and going into battle, as Hartmut von Treilenburg demands, doesn’t seem the right thing to do.”
Dietmar threw his hands up helplessly. “But we have to do something. If we don’t stop this rogue knight, he will destroy us all.”
“Of course we have to oppose him in some way,” she agreed in a gentle voice. She slipped under the bedcovers and gently pushed Marie aside. “You have done me good service and can retire to your room,” she ordered, then turned back to her husband.
Quickly leaving the bedroom, Marie didn’t realize until she was outside the door that she’d forgotten her sheet. Though she was embarrassed to run through the castle naked, she didn’t dare return to the bedroom. Covering herself with her hands as best she could, she hurried down the corridor, happy that no one saw her.
She couldn’t know that in fact someone had been watching. Behind a slightly ajar door, a haggard man in a shabby monk’s robe was peering out into the hallway to check on all comings and goings. He saw Marie for a moment in all her beauty, watching as she disappeared into her room. When the door closed behind her, he seemed to want to follow her, but his feet stood rooted to the spot and he flailed the air with his hands as if struggling to control himself.
Listening to check that the coast was clear, the man tiptoed down the hallway to the lord’s bedroom and placed his ear against the door while keeping an eye on the corridor. His face was tense with anticipation, and his lips twisted into a disappointed grimace as if he heard things that displeased him.
IV.
Since Marie only had to be available for one man, she had plenty of time to listen, look around, and think about things. She often considered the relationship between the lady and the lord of the castle, marveling at how Lady Mechthild wielded astonishing power over her husband. But Marie didn’t realize just how great the lady’s influence was until the next day, when she hid in the stairwell leading down into the knight’s hall and overheard one of the conversations between Dietmar and his allies. There he used exactly the same words Lady Mechthild had put into his mouth just the evening before.
When Marie told Hiltrud, her friend laughed at her. “The mistress is, as we both know, very smart and at least as assertive. It’s no wonder Sir Dietmar follows her advice.”
“But I still don’t understand how she can put another woman in his bed and still lead him around like a horse on a bridle. Don’t priests always say that women must be subservient and obey their husbands? That’s what a burgher’s daughter is taught even before she learns to walk.”
Hiltrud demurred. “You should accept things as they are and not pry into the way other people act. I think you have too much free time. Ask Guda if she has something for you to do, because if you keep sitting around here like this, you’ll go mad. I enjoy helping in the stables. Do you know they have a whole herd of goats here? Thomas, the boy who cares for them, promised me he’ll let his best buck mate with my two nannies, so when we move on, we’ll have two little kids again.” Hiltrud’s eyes sparkled.
“Nice for you, but I’m not concerned with goats at the moment. If I ask Guda for work, I won’t have any time to listen in on the conversations in the great hall, and I won’t be able to learn more about Rupert.”
Hiltrud looked anxious. “You should stay away from there. If they catch you, they’ll think you’re spying for the Keilburgs, and they do away with traitors pretty quickly here.”
Marie waved her hand dismissively. “I won’t be so easy to catch. The stairway is rarely used, and if someone does come by, I can just pretend I’m looking at the weapons and hunting trophies.”
Hiltrud pounded her hand on the table. “You’re not just putting yourself at risk. If they catch you, they’ll suspect me, too, and we’ll consider ourselves lucky if we’re thrown out onto the street in the middle of winter. It’s more likely we’ll rot in the dungeon.”
“You’re too pessimistic,” Marie replied, relieved to see the maid enter with the evening meal, then stay for a short chat. Hiltrud kept the easily frightened girl occupied by telling her a few horror stories, so Marie was able to dwell on her thoughts.
Hiltrud was right. If she spied on the noblemen, she would risk losing not only their comfortable winter quarters but also their lives, because the men were so incensed that they would take it out on anyone. Nevertheless, she felt a desperate need to find out what was happening. In the beginning, with emotions running high, it looked as if the Arnsteins would declare a feud against Konrad von Keilburg and dispatch him to hell along with his illegitimate brother, Rupert. But these hopes quickly disappeared, as Sir Dietmar insisted that an attack on the count could only be successful if they found additional allies.
Though the Keilburgs had more than twice as many soldiers as Sir Dietmar and his allies, Count Konrad seemed hesitant to start a feud with the knights. Through her snooping, Marie learned a lot about the feudal laws that restrained the Keilburgs from attacking a knight without warning, and she learned all the things her host had to do, and to avoid doing, in order not to give the count any pretext for officially declaring a feud.
Indeed, Count Konrad von Keilburg was obligated to show consideration for his neighbors, and in his case also that of the higher nobility. Marie thought through the names of those whom Rupert’s half brother had to fear the most, among them Count Eberhard von Württemberg, one of the most influential nobles in the now-nonexistent old Duchy of Swabia. Together with Margrave Bernhard von Baden and Friedrich von Habsburg, Count Eberhard had an important role to play in the unstable power structure that the Keilburgs so ruthlessly exploited.
All of the noblemen currently convened at Arnstein feared their powerful neighbors and continually talked of entering into an alliance against the growing influence of Count Konrad von Keilburg. The next evening, as Marie took her usual place on the stairway peering through the balusters, Dietmar von Arnstein returned to this topic. “We have to align ourselves with either the Habsburgs or the Württembergs, or the Keilburgs will devour us one after the other.”
“I’m for Duke Friedrich—he’s the most powerful.” Degenhard von Steinzell, who was staying at Arnstein Castle with his son, Philipp, as usual stated his preference for the Habsburgs.
Rumold von Bürggen grimaced. “That’s just the reason I’m against this alliance. If we ally ourselves with Friedrich, we’ll be reduced to insignificant vassals who’ll be at his beck and call. We’d have to take part in wars that don’t concern us, depriving our own lands of able-bodied men for months. No, friends, we have no other choice than to rely on our own strength. With any luck, an alliance of all the independent knights and lords would be able to stop the Keilburgs in their tracks and put an end to their hunger for land once and for all.”
“That’s just exactly how I feel,” replied Hartmut von Trellenburg, turning to Rumold. “Why should we bow ou
r heads to the Habsburgs or the Württembergs? I say we need to stand up for ourselves. It shouldn’t be hard to put together an alliance against Konrad von Keilburg. After all, he has angered many others, including the abbot of Saint Ottilien whose Steinwald hills Keilburg just seized. Gottfried von Dreieichen had donated the forest to the monastery as a place for prayer and meditation, but when Abbot Adalwig demanded the land back, he was scorned and reviled. Some even say Keilburg threatened him.”
Sir Dietmar put his head in his hands. “If Count Konrad is intimidating the abbot of Saint Ottilien, then things look bad for me. After all, Adalwig is the guarantor of my contract with my uncle Otmar.”
Hartmut von Treilenburg nodded approvingly. “Don’t worry about Adalwig. He’ll stand with us if it comes to a feud with the Keilburgs.”
Wearily, Sir Dietmar waved off his comment. “I’d feel better if Abbot Adalwig could support us with armed men or was rich enough to hire mercenaries, but his seventy friars won’t be much help in a battle.”
“That’s why we need to throw our lot in with Duke Friedrich,” Degenhard von Steinzell insisted.
“No, that’s why we need to join forces with Eberhard von Württemberg,” Rumold von Bürggen insisted, pounding the table. “He doesn’t have nearly as many men as Duke Friedrich, but some of his vassals up north are the Keilburgs’ neighbors. Count Eberhard has to be careful that Count Konrad doesn’t get the best of him.”
“In my opinion, we’re talking too much,” Hartmut von Treilenburg interrupted. “Are we mice or men? Every one of our horsemen is worth two or three times as much in battle as Keilburg’s paid mercenaries.”
Sir Dietmar raised his hand, asking for silence. “I oppose an open battle. It would cost us good men who till our fields in peacetime. A battle, however, benefits Count Konrad since his paid soldiers don’t earn anything if they fall in battle, whereas he currently has to spend a small fortune housing and feeding them while they wait for a possible feud. As long as we don’t break any laws and give him a reason to declare a feud against us, peace will financially hurt him much more than a fight.”
“Are you against a battle, Dietmar, or is your wife?” Rumold von Bürggen asked with unconcealed sarcasm. “We all know that Lady Mechthild has a good head on her shoulders, but waging war is something she should leave to the men.”
Dietmar’s face flushed at his words, and he jumped up, glaring furiously at Rumhold. “You’ve crossed the line! I won’t let anyone call me a coward or unmanly.”
“Then don’t act that way,” Rumold replied, undeterred. Degenhard von Steinzell spoke calmly, trying to smooth things over. “Why are we having this stupid argument? Your quarreling only helps Keilburg to bring us down. Remember, we have to stick together!”
Clenching his fists, Dietmar had to force himself to sit down. “I won’t let anyone call me a coward.”
Rumhold von Bürggen waved him off with a look of contempt, angering his host further.
“Degenhard is right,” Hartmut von Treilenburg asserted, addressing them both. “If we don’t stick together, we’ll meet again sooner or later in Keilburg’s dungeon.”
Marie didn’t hear whether his appeal was well received, as she heard steps behind her. Jumping up, she ran back down the corridor and hid in a doorway. But it was too late. Jodokus, the monk who served Sir Dietmar as his scribe and priest, blocked her way, baring his huge yellow teeth and twisting his mouth into a grimace.
“Good day, Fräulein Marie. I’m so delighted to meet you.”
Marie stepped back a bit. “Fräulein? It’s nearly four years too late for you to call me that.”
Sir Dietmar thought highly of the monk, and Lady Mechthild had publicly praised him several times. But Marie didn’t like him, regarding him with distrust. She found his pale gaze as repellent as the unctuous way he always tried to engage her in conversation.
Smiling gently, as if to calm her down, Brother Jodokus placed his hand on her shoulder and drew her closer. “You’re ashamed of what life has made of you, Marie, yet you’re as beautiful as an angel of the Lord. A loving and experienced hand could lead you safely to paradise.”
Marie understood the monk meant a very earthly type of paradise, as his other hand slid down gently past her breasts to her thighs. She shoved him away and tried to sneak by him, but he seized her so tightly, she could feel his fingernails digging through the heavy wool cloth of her dress.
“Why do you turn away from me when any man can have you for a few pennies?”
Marie was terrified. The monk looked ready to push her into the nearest empty room and take her by force. In another setting she would have fought back and shown him not to touch an unwilling woman. But here she couldn’t anger him, because it was entirely within his power to make the rest of her stay miserable or to have her and Hiltrud thrown out of the castle. Thinking fast, she looked at him boldly.
“At present I’m not available. The lady brought me to the castle for the sole use of her husband and would be angered if I granted my favors to another man.”
Brother Jodokus made a face like that of a child whose toy had been taken away. “Lady Mechthild doesn’t have to learn about it.”
Laughing, Marie pulled his limp hands from her dress. “Does anything happen inside these walls that Lady Mechthild doesn’t learn about? At a fair, you could buy my body for a few pennies, but here the lady’s will doesn’t allow it.”
The monk groaned, grabbed her again, and pressed himself against her so tightly that she almost lost her breath. “I don’t want just your body. Since I saw you naked as God created you, I’ve known I must possess you.”
Confused, Marie pushed him away. When did he see me naked? she wondered in shock. She took great care to protect her privacy. Jodokus’s remark led her to wonder if there was a peephole in her room that the monk could look through to see her. Shivering, she resolved to thoroughly inspect the walls.
“It’s true I am a whore, but I don’t offer myself to everyone,” she answered sharply.
Her rejection seemed only to inflame the monk’s passion. “Don’t turn away from me, sweet child. Together we could achieve the greatest happiness on earth or in the hereafter.”
“How so? As beggars on the open road?”
Jodokus smiled. “Don’t underestimate me. I will soon be a very rich man, and if you come with me, you’ll live like a noble lady.”
In great detail he explained how he would shower her with jewelry and clothing. Even the merchant from Flanders had never offered her such expensive finery. Pretending to listen, Marie was just waiting for a chance to escape. Even if he was telling the truth, she didn’t want to get involved.
As a monk he had taken a vow of celibacy, and probably also of chastity, but he seemed not to adhere to his vows any more than most other men of the church. The morality of priests and monks had been steadily declining ever since Popes Gregory, John, and Benedict had been fighting for the leadership of Christianity. Marie remembered a facetious remark she’d overheard in her travels. “Why shouldn’t a priest marry?” a street performer asked her one day, providing his own answer. “Because all the women in his congregation are available to him anyway.”
Marie had laughed, but it was true. Nevertheless, it was far different for a priest to bed women or for a bishop to keep a mistress than for an ordinary monk to keep a woman or even marry. Doing so would turn people against Jodokus, and they would make short shrift of him and the woman he kept.
Marie shuddered at the brazenness of the man’s lust. Yet even if he wasn’t a cleric and a marriage with him could elevate her standing to that of an honorable woman, she wouldn’t do it. Jodokus disgusted her, and it made her furious that she couldn’t tell him that to his face.
“Excuse me if I don’t understand you. I’m just a stupid woman,” she mumbled in a desperate attempt to win time.
For a moment it
seemed the monk was going to speak, but he just pressed his lips together as if to guard against saying anything rash, instead devouring her with his hungry eyes and breathing heavily. After a few moments, he released her and stepped aside. “I desire you, and I will have you.”
It sounded like a threat to Marie. Curtsying quickly, she flew down the hallway, but even after she had bolted the entrance to her room, she felt his eyes boring into the back of her head from behind the door.
Jodokus watched her until she disappeared from sight. Then he leaned against the wall, trembling and pressing his forehead against the cold stone. The harlot was right. Lady Mechthild would never allow anyone but her husband to touch her. He was consumed with jealousy, thinking of how the young woman was at the knight’s disposal even though Dietmar didn’t make much of it. The monk wouldn’t give up, though. In three months at the latest, Lady Mechthild’s child would be born and she would again take her place in the lord’s bedroom. The monk would then carry out his plan, putting him in a position to buy Marie and make her completely his own. Then he would make sure no other man ever came near her. Thinking about the future, Jodokus smiled so contentedly that Guda looked at him in astonishment as she passed by. Whenever she’d seen the monk before, he’d always been wearing a sour face.
V.
In Marie and Hiltrud’s first few weeks at Arnstein Castle, their interests and attentions diverged. Hiltrud enjoyed life in the castle more than she ever could have imagined. They lived like nobility in their large room with a fireplace that was always stocked with wood; even their beds were as exquisitely soft as the clouds on which angels slept. They were given the best food and allowed to do as they pleased. All that was asked of them was that Marie respond to the lord’s needs and that Hiltrud not entice other men.
The maids who waited on them treated them like exotic creatures, but they were always friendly and chatty. The other servants didn’t dare criticize them because it would anger the lady, and the men left Marie alone. Though the men didn’t dare lay a hand on Hiltrud, either, they did puff themselves up like roosters when she walked by, and, every now and then, she slept with a few of them. Giso, the sharp-tongued castellan, paid twelve pennies for her service, and she was pleased with the easily acquired money.