The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series Book 1)

by Iny Lorentz

  Jobst, offended, raised his eyebrows and ordered the servant walking alongside to stop the two horses. “If you’re so uncomfortable with the ride, then get out. You can go the rest of the way to the shore on foot.”

  He jumped over the side of the wagon and bowed slightly. Marie stood up first. Tossing her blanket over her shoulder, she picked up her bundle and let Jobst help her down. Hiltrud placed her hand on Marie’s shoulder and also jumped to the ground, then nudged her friend to the side for a quick chat. The contact made Marie’s back start to itch again, and she scratched vigorously.

  “What’s the matter? You haven’t caught some disease, have you?” Hiltrud asked anxiously.

  Marie rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. “It feels as if the scars on my back are still fresh.”

  “We shouldn’t have come here.” Hiltrud lowered her voice so that no one else could hear.

  Marie shook her head. “No, it was the right decision. I must finally come to terms with my past.”

  Hiltrud waved her right arm dismissively. “Forget what happened. Just try to earn as much money as you can in Constance, and afterward, perhaps you can settle down somewhere else with your savings and start a new life.”

  “You think we should start a new life afterward? I have nothing against that, but no city would give citizenship to two women with dubious backgrounds unless we’re rich enough to buy ourselves the mayor’s sons as husbands.”

  Hiltrud knew Marie was right and that she was just dreaming. Just the same, she started to laugh. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll actually make that much. According to Jobst, the attendees are very generous.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Kordula said, walking toward Marie and Hiltrud when she heard what they’d just said. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea for us to get out of this business after the council. After all, we’re still young enough to have children, but in a few years we’ll just be a bunch of old hags.”

  Marie made a face when she heard that. Who would marry a prostitute except for perhaps a knacker, a gravedigger, or an executioner?—men that not even a maid would want, to say nothing of a respectable lady. And even these men would make demands, if not for looks, then at least for money. Shaking her head pensively, Marie stomped away in the direction Jobst was pointing.

  Hiltrud and Kordula were close behind while Helma and Nina stayed with the procurer, fawning over him. Jobst had persuaded those two to stay in one of the city bordellos, and had also described life there in glowing terms to Marie and Hiltrud. But they had rebuffed him because they, like Kordula, wanted to be their own bosses and not have to hand over a large portion of their hard-earned money in exchange for a leaky roof and bad food. At some point Jobst had given up and promised them a modest house by the brick pits; although, his rate was exorbitant and he wanted the first three months’ rent paid in advance.

  Marie knew the part of town where the brick pits were located. Five years before, that area had been undeveloped wetland along the Rhine where poor townspeople went to harvest grain for their goats. Based on that, Marie knew their housing would probably be little more than a stable. But she wasn’t alarmed: she and Hiltrud had to fix up their winter quarters every year anyway to make them livable, and Kordula had already offered to lend a hand with the work and to share in the expenses. Though the two friends hadn’t yet decided whether or not to let Kordula join them, Marie liked the idea. Kordula reminded Marie of Gerlind when she first met her, even though the broad-hipped woman was younger than Gerlind had been at that time.

  Marie decided not to worry about the future for a while and instead concentrated on placing her feet on the stony path, covered with giant tree roots winding down to the lake. Though it was only March, the sun burned down from a cloudless sky, and the women were happy to be walking in the shade. Despite the afternoon’s warmth, the morning had been bitterly cold, and most of them still wore their woolen jackets or two layers of dresses, making them all glow damply. The little streams of sweat that ran down Marie’s back irritated her scars even more.

  Hiltrud noticed her rolling her shoulders in discomfort, and scratched Marie’s back with her fingers. Marie turned to thank her friend and noticed the wagon driver circling the horses behind them in order to drive back. Seeing with a start that the man looked a little like Utz, probably due to his clothing, Marie realized how lucky she’d been up till then, as Jobst could have met her tormenters when he rented the wagon. She hoped that Utz would be so busy with the council that there’d be little danger of her meeting him by chance in Constance.

  Leaving the forest, Marie had a clear view over the lake. At the foot of the slope, a large barge already fully loaded with sacks and boxes was tied to a rickety-looking pier extending over the water. The first passengers pressed forward to board, but the boat seemed much too small to accommodate both the prostitutes and a group of scholars also waiting for transport, as well as a man on a mule now approaching on the shore road from Uhldingen. Even from a distance it was easy to see that he was a cleric, and when he got closer, his badge showed he was the abbot of a Benedictine monastery. As he rode past, the arrogant look on his chubby face and the way he pulled his robe and overcoat to him tightly in order to avoid contact with the women made a mockery of the concept of Christian humility.

  Riding onto the pier, the abbot stopped by the boat, and two boatmen helped him out of the saddle. One of the boatmen gave him his arm to help him climb over the side while the second led the mule to some buildings on a forested knoll back on shore.

  “Hey, you there! Hurry up and get in! I want to get to Constance before nightfall,” the boatman shouted at the whores and the learned gentlemen. The men crowded together in front, pushing Helma and Nina roughly aside.

  Hiltrud and Marie climbed aboard, but the boat was so crowded, they had to clamber on top of the boxes where Marie wound up sitting next to the abbot. Snorting with contempt, he acted as if she repulsed him, but Marie noticed him casting furtive glances her way. Suddenly, he smacked his lips and reached for her, trying to put his hands down her dress. She quickly drew back as far as she could, turned her back to him, and pulled her shawl over her head to keep him from touching her hair. Kordula, who sat between her and Hiltrud, nudged her with a slightly malicious grin.

  “The man sitting next to you is Hugo, the abbot of the Waldkron monastery. I’m surprised he’s staring at you like that, since he’s got a reputation for chasing young virgins and requesting prostitutes who look like very young girls.”

  “Whereas I don’t look either young or innocent,” Marie joked.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just wondering why he’s suddenly taking an interest in a grown woman . . .” Kordula pressed her right index finger against her nose, deep in thought. “Last time I saw him, he kept a girl who was as blond as you are and had a Madonna-like face just like yours. Maybe you’ve picked up a loyal customer.”

  Marie shrugged. “If he pays well, he can have me.”

  Leaning forward, Kordula lowered her voice even more. “Be careful. The abbot is one of those repulsive men who like to hurt women. The young girl I just mentioned used to sob as she told me things . . .” The rest remained unsaid as one of the boatmen cast off the lines and the ship began to toss alarmingly. Kordula screamed and grabbed hold of the bundle she was sitting on.

  The boatman used a long pole to shove off from the shore and headed out into open water while his two assistants raised the sail. The sail billowed out as the wind caught it, and the captain put down the pole to reach for the rudder. A breeze from the north drove the heavy boat out onto the lake.

  When Marie was younger, her father often took her to Meersburg on the river, so she was familiar with this type of travel, and the rocking of the boat didn’t bother her. Hiltrud was also unruffled, but Kordula stared anxiously at the receding coastline. Once she had calmed down and resumed talking, she’d forgotten the abbot, and th
e only thing that interested her was what might be awaiting them in Constance.

  Marie was so tense with anticipation that she only added a few mumbled words to the conversation. For years she’d been upset whenever she heard someone mention her hometown, but now she was dying to be there again. The boat rounded the peninsula, heading for the international merchant’s pier next to the warehouse. Crowds of people packed the shore in front of the tall buildings, and Marie panicked, assuming she’d be recognized at once and turned over to the guards. To keep her fear in check, she silently repeated Jobst’s assurance that all invited visitors, including harlots, were protected by the kaiser’s decree and could not be bothered.

  When the boat docked, Abbot Hugo pushed to the front of the line and reached out for the boatmen helping passengers disembark. They struggled to lift him over the side, holding on to him until he was safe on dry land. Their hope for a tip was in vain, however, as the abbot pulled his cloak tightly closed, walking right past their outstretched hands without giving them a second look as he pressed his huge body through the crowd.

  Marie watched as the abbot headed toward a man dressed in academic robes made of good, fur-trimmed cloth and a fashionable cap, indicating that the wearer, unlike most of his scholarly colleagues, was a man of means. Though his robe concealed his body, he seemed familiar. When he turned to speak to the abbot, she recognized his face, and her heart skipped a beat. It was Counselor Rupert. Greeting the abbot with obvious pleasure, Rupert put his arm around him.

  Trembling with anxiety, Marie was simultaneously sweating and freezing even though the weather was pleasantly warm, and she wanted to hide under the cargo until everyone had left. As the boatman drove the passengers off the boat like a herd of sheep, she clung to Hiltrud’s skirt, trying to disappear behind her statuesque friend.

  Hiltrud looked quizzically at Marie and noticed her panicky expression. Though she initially couldn’t imagine what might have frightened her friend so much, she swiftly caught on. “That fellow over there who looks like a vulture . . . Is he your former fiancé?”

  Marie just nodded silently, since she had lost her voice. But then her fear suddenly gave way to overwhelming hatred, hitting her as hard as Hunold’s whips had long ago. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to attack the man responsible for all her misfortunes, flinging her anger and bitterness back in his face and letting everyone know what a scoundrel he was. She quickly came to her senses, however, as she knew that no one would believe a prostitute.

  As Rupert and the abbot disappeared toward the fish market, Marie breathed a sigh of relief and followed Hiltrud’s lead as she hopped off the boat and back onto dry land.

  Jobst was gathering together his small group of harlots, and he waved at the two others to join them. A small crowd of men surrounded the women, commenting on their appearances and shouting obscenities. One of the men even jokingly asked Nina to show her breasts and raise her skirt so he could see if it was worth his time to come and visit her. Such behavior would have been deemed offensive in Constance five years ago, and the perpetrator might have even been put in the stocks, but apparently the city council had looked the other way as moral standards slipped.

  Marie attempted to shake off her fear at seeing Rupert by assessing the men to find someone who might prove a good customer. But the only one who looked like he might have more than six shillings in his purse seemed repulsive, though he didn’t really look dirty.

  Instead, he was a strong-looking middle-aged man with the face of a peasant but dressed like a courtier in fashionable, tight green trousers, a richly embroidered fur-trimmed jacket, and a round fur-lined cap. His right eyelid hung down, but he was carefully examining the arriving harlots with his left eye as if they were mares at a horse market. He smacked his lips when he saw Nina, but when he caught sight of Marie, the lecherous look on his face became downright possessive. Marie turned her shoulder to show she was not interested, but out of the corner of her eye she could see he was looking her over as if she were stark naked. Knowing that the man would be among her first customers, she could only hope that he would either be turned away by her prices or that he’d be a pleasant lover despite his coarse appearance and arrogant behavior.

  The man eagerly approached her, rudely shoving aside the two young men who had stepped in front of him. Just then, a heavily made-up black-haired woman wearing a flamboyant hat appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Turning around, he stepped back with a polite but somewhat derisive expression. He looked angry at being disturbed, which made the woman erupt in such hearty laughter that her quivering breasts looked like they were going to burst through the indecently low neckline of her dress. As the woman walked up to Jobst and greeted him with a casual wave, Marie couldn’t help noticing the bright yellow ribbon knotted around her belt.

  “I’m Madeleine from Angers, my dears,” she said, “and I welcome you to Constance. My friends and I have been eagerly anticipating your visit. There are so many powerful men gathered together here that we can hardly handle the business. But though we are happy to get reinforcements, we don’t want you to drive down our prices. Some people think we’re too expensive”—she cast a derisive glance at the man with the drooping eyelid—“but the demand determines the price. Along with an impressive number of worldly nobles, many monks and prelates are staying in the city now, and they all seem eager to enjoy our services.”

  Marie and her companions were taken aback at the prostitute’s friendly greeting, but the dark circles under her eyes implied that she’d used her bed for sleeping only rarely over the previous weeks, which was no surprise given the prices she mentioned. The women squealed gleefully and rubbed their hands together in excitement when they heard the prices they could ask.

  “I’m anxious to find out what a loaf of bread or a mug of wine costs,” Marie could hear Hiltrud mumbling beside her, and she agreed. With so many people here, supplies had to be brought in from far away, and that drove prices up. But if the customers would pay as much as Madeleine had said, they would earn good money anyway. Perhaps most startling to Marie, however, was that Madeleine’s dress had no yellow ribbons. Only a thin yellow braid decorating her neckline and the small bit of cloth tied around her belt indicated her profession.

  Marie turned away from the woman. It was part of a harlot’s job to undress for a well-paying customer, but she couldn’t bring herself to run around with almost completely exposed breasts.

  Meanwhile, Jobst paid no attention to Madeleine, but instead distributed the women among the local brothel owners, doing his best to placate the squabbling men and keep them from fighting over the women. Nina and Helma were taken by a townsperson Marie recognized. She didn’t know his name, as he hadn’t frequented her father’s house, but she’d seen him address her father in an almost-servile manner when they’d met on the street.

  The brothel owner who had already acquired Nina and Helma seized Marie by the arm possessively and snapped at Jobst. “What about these last three women?”

  Jobst made a sour face. “They want to work on their own.”

  Hiltrud, Kordula, and Marie were in fact the only ones left. Annoyed, Marie shook herself out of the brothel owner’s grip and tapped Jobst on the shoulder. She could tell that he still hoped to persuade them to join a bordello, as he stood to receive money not only from the bordello owners but also a bounty from the city council. Marie had often heard from women working in the bordellos that they had to stay and repay the bordello’s investment in them as well as the cost for a bed and other expenses.

  “How about our little house?” she asked Jobst for the second time.

  “You won’t have any luck with that,” the bordello owner called out. “Here in Constance there isn’t enough room anymore to house a cat, much less three whores.”

  Kordula placed her hands on her hips and looked at Jobst threateningly. “You’d better get the house for us. After all,
you’ve already received your broker’s commission and three months’ advance rent.”

  “The guy cheated you, girls. Have him give you back the money and come with me.” The bordello owner harangued Kordula and Hiltrud, but the two weren’t listening. Instead, they looked questioningly at Marie, since most of the money was hers. She laid her hand on Jobst’s shoulder. “The house you rented for us is over by Saint Peter’s, isn’t it?”

  Jobst nodded grimly. “Yes, but who knows if it’s still available.”

  “Then you’ll have to throw out the people who’ve already moved in,” she replied with a menacing smile.

  To Marie’s surprise, the nobleman with the drooping eyelid came to their defense. “If that’s what you promised these women and took money for it, then you’ve got to turn the house over to them.”

  Marie sighed softly. She’d probably have to sleep with this man, no matter what he paid. When Madeleine also spoke up for them, Jobst hung his head and gave in.

  “Very well! Come along then, for God’s sake.” Irritated, he started walking away. The three harlots, along with Madeleine and the nobleman, all followed close behind.

  Passing by the bridge that led over to the island monastery, Marie felt a knot in her stomach. Five years ago, she had stood there before a judge, listening in disbelief as her fiancé brought false charges against her. For a moment she considered simply hiring someone to murder Rupert. Then she wouldn’t have to be there herself, and she could leave the city just as inconspicuously as she had come. But then all of her efforts and the risks she had taken to get Jodokus’s documents would be in vain. Since they had almost arrived at their rental house, she decided to put off any decisions until later.

  The building was no larger than a farmer’s cottage, but a gable window suggested the attic might be also livable. Like some of the nearby houses, it must have been built within the last five years, but it already seemed shabby and neglected. Its windows were so small, you could barely put your head out of them, and their pigs’ bladder coverings were full of holes. The thatched roof still appeared in good shape, though, and the door was solid enough to offer some degree of protection against intruders.