by Iny Lorentz
Michel sat up, looked at Marie’s Madonna-like face, and shook with laughter. “Tell me, when’s the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? Most middle-class girls would envy you for your appearance. By God, you are the very embodiment of virginity! And you, as much as anyone, would have to know that most men are not interested in moral and—please excuse me for saying so—boring women.”
“They are for their conjugal bed, because they have people like me for their pleasure.”
Putting his hand on her shoulder, Michel became serious. “Could we please talk to each other like reasonable people? I’d really like to know what actually happened. Mombert suggested that you had been horribly wronged, but he avoided my questions when I asked, just saying we should leave the dead in peace. I think he was afraid I would cause him more difficulties. All I know is that you were whipped in the market square and driven out of town. I left Constance that same day to try to save you. Don’t you think I have a right to know the truth?”
For a minute, Marie wondered if she should tell him everything. It would be nice to confide in an old friend who might empathize more than Hiltrud, who saw everything from the pessimistic viewpoint of someone sold into prostitution as a child. Then Marie remembered how he had coerced her in order to sleep with her, and she shook her head.
“It’s not my fault that you panicked and came running after me. Go to hell, boy, and leave me alone.”
“You’re still the same stubborn girl you were as a child, when you stopped talking to me because I wouldn’t pick cherries from trees that didn’t belong to us. Don’t you understand that I only mean well?”
Marie bared her teeth. “If you mean well, give me the eight shillings that my other clients think I’m worth.”
Moving away from her, Michel stood up and reached for his clothing. “I had hoped to find an old friend but met only a greedy harlot.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he regretted them.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Marie held out her hand. Desperately wanting to punish her for her scornful look, but at the same time wishing only to kneel down in front of her and ask for forgiveness, he did exactly the wrong thing again. Untying his purse, he took out eight shillings and threw them on the bed. “Here’s your pay, even though you weren’t worth that much.”
Marie picked up his helmet and hurled it at him. Catching it before it could do any harm to him or anything else, he grabbed the rest of his uniform and fled naked down the ladder, carrying all his things.
Fortunately for him, Marie remained sitting on her bed, but a string of curses followed him as he dressed and left the house. She felt nothing but contempt for the man who ran from her like a scared rabbit, but she wept bitterly over the loss of a childhood friend who had comforted her when she was sad and been her knight in shining armor on their innocent expeditions together.
VII.
For the next two days, Marie looked like she was a million miles away, and her friends had to repeat their questions several times before she would answer. She was friendlier than usual with her clients, however, and had plenty of business, which also helped her housemates. Though everything seemed fine on the face of it, Hiltrud noticed that even the lure of finding fried sausages wasn’t enough to persuade Marie to go into town. Hiltrud wondered what might have happened, as Marie always enjoyed strolling through the market and had plenty of money to spend on good food. But Hiltrud was familiar with Marie’s grim expressions, and she avoided asking her friend too many questions. Hiltrud could only hope that her mood would slowly improve. So far, not even visits from other harlots seemed to tear Marie away from her secret worries.
Their most frequent visitor was Madeleine, who would pop in for a chat, passing along the latest gossip. Usually complaining about their bordello owner, Nina and Helma also stopped by often. They earned plenty of money, but the owner took most of their pay for room and board, and they said how much they wished they had moved into the little house with Hiltrud, Marie, and Kordula. Though the rent on the cottage was high, it would be a lot better than their current situation, where the owner was starting to rudely demand that the women pay him three additional shillings if they turned away a customer.
Though Marie suspected the two women were exaggerating their claims, Madeleine told her that the women’s complaints were justified. As an official nobleman’s mistress, the French woman lived in a room he had rented for her in a Constance home, but she had no intention of staying faithful to her patron, working by the hour in a bordello and sharing a room there with two other women who likewise had steady lovers.
On this particular afternoon, a few other prostitutes were visiting the little house. Marie was warning Madeleine that her double life could end badly depending on a deceived nobleman’s temperament, but Madeleine just laughed. “Bah, why should I sit around and wait until he deigns to come to me? I’m too good for that. Moreover, my lord does not make love in the usual way.” Puckering her lips, she winked conspiratorially at the other women.
Noticing the frown on Marie’s face, Madeleine told her she was being a prude, and then talked at great length about the sexual preferences of all the other noblemen whose mistress she had been. It did seem, however, that her present suitor kept her not so much because she was willing to do anything he asked, but rather so he could converse with her in their shared native language. In any event, he was very generous, providing Madeleine with clothing and jewelry that only rich burghers and noblewomen could afford.
Kordula sighed longingly. “I’d be happy just to have a nobleman who would regularly keep me for an entire evening. That wouldn’t be so demanding, and he might even give me a gift every so often.”
Nodding, Helma agreed. “I’d like that, too. But we should be happy we still have any customers at all. Many noblemen, especially the clergy, don’t bother with us but just chase after local middle-class girls.”
“The monks and priests constantly talk about the dangers of fornication and lust, but it’s them, of all people, who prey on innocent girls.” Madeleine sounded irate, and two other prostitutes chimed in.
“It’s not just the middle-class girls who keep the men away from us,” the older of them said. “Many local maids would rather lie under horny old goats than do their housework, spreading their legs for two or three Hallers and ruining our prices.”
“What can you do about it? The men don’t have as much money to throw around as they did in their first few weeks here.” Hiltrud shrugged dismissively but couldn’t completely hide her worry. “But you’re right. Recently the so-called honorable women have been behaving even worse than the penny whores. If this continues, Constance will just be one big brothel by the council’s end, and we’ll go hungry because local women and maids will have taken our customers away.”
The younger prostitute nodded. “I also wonder what’s going to happen when the council is over. When all the wanton maids are driven out of town and have to sell themselves at fairs outside town, there’ll be more whores than customers there as well.”
Kordula stood up and spat angrily into the fire. “To hell with all these honorable women who think they’re so much better than us but sleep with every man who so much as looks their way. Now, ladies, it’s time to go to work again.”
After the women had left, Marie stood in the doorway thinking, to the approval of some lecherous onlookers. Though the other prostitutes’ frequent visits were sometimes annoying, it was through those visits that Marie learned what was happening in the city.
In the brothels, every conversation was overheard, but in Marie’s nest, as she called the little house, women could swap information about money-grubbing bordello owners and merchants who drove their prices sky-high, exchanging advice on how to deal with them. Conversations like these always reminded Marie of Hiltrud’s sage words—that prostitutes might be weak, but they weren’t defenseless. Many a brothel owner was surprise
d when his girls quietly moved on to other bordellos, and some merchants lost prostitutes’ business when former customers switched to their toughest competitors.
As a result, even though Marie was humble and didn’t crave attention, her thorough knowledge of the city and its inhabitants made her a much sought-after adviser for the others. In addition, as Marie became more popular with customers, she felt besieged and had to turn some clients away—an insignificant loss, however, as the other whores thanked her with small amounts of money. Hiltrud joked that Marie would soon be earning more money from other women than from her customers, and Marie laughed, but it set her to thinking.
Meanwhile, in her digging for information about Counselor Rupert, Marie had learned that the repugnant abbot she met on the boat to Constance had since molested a girl who looked just like her. Gradually, she figured out it had to be her cousin Hedwig. Unfortunately, the young girl was also being pursued by another undesirable man, the young nobleman Steinzell, whom Marie remembered from Arnstein.
She considered visiting her uncle and pleading with him to take her cousin away from Constance, but Marie knew that would put her in too precarious a position. Soon word would get out that she was still alive, and Rupert would be one of the first to find out, since he had spun his web throughout the city. Then the counselor or Utz would discover that she was the harlot to whom Jodokus had given his documents—and her fate would be sealed.
Irritated by her cowardice and indecision, she still hadn’t taken action against her enemy. When she had been wandering far away from her hometown, she’d considered numerous plans, but here in Constance, none of them seemed practical. Thus she went about her daily activities, hoping fate would give her the means to fashion a noose with which to hang her former fiancé.
It was now four mornings after her meeting with Michel, and Marie’s nest was quiet. She’d just finished a conversation with two young, still-inexperienced prostitutes who had come to her with some medical concerns, and Marie was brooding in the doorway and watching people go by. Suddenly she froze, spotting a man turning the corner. He was decked out in full armor and a helmet as if on his way to a military parade. Immediately recognizing him, she didn’t even have to see the coat of arms with the two palatine lions on his chest. Catching her eye, he waved cheerfully and was soon standing in front of her.
“Hello, Marie! Nice to see you. I need a little tussle between the sheets. Wasn’t your price eight shillings? Here they are, along with a couple extra, so that you’ll make it especially nice for me this time.”
He sounded so bright and sunny that Marie wanted to slap him in the face. Folding her arms across her chest and jutting her chin forward, she replied coldly, “Sorry, I don’t just let everyone into my bed.”
Hiltrud stuck her head out the door. “Marie, what are you saying? The gentleman is a captain of the guards, and it’s not smart to quarrel with these people.”
“Do you hear that, girl?” Michel said, laughing. “You won’t be sorry, as I pay good money.”
She wanted to scratch his eyes out, heap scorn on him, and send him packing, but she also had to be considerate of Hiltrud and Kordula. There was always the risk that he’d send his soldiers to their house if she made him too mad, and nobody would come to their aid if his men went on a rampage there.
“Very well, come along upstairs with me,” she said in an unfriendly tone, and began climbing up the ladder in front of him.
He followed her so closely, she could feel his chest pressing up against her. Once upstairs, he took his time undressing, putting his things down out of her reach with a provocative smile. She lay down naked on top of the bed and acted completely disinterested in what he was going to do next.
Leaning over her, Michel tried to force her to look at him, but she turned away with such an indifferent expression that he was annoyed at himself for returning. He should have known better, as she had clearly indicated the first time how much she despised him. At that time he had left with the firm intention of never seeing her again, but his later visits to Mombert Flühi had changed his mind.
He had dined with the cooper several times now, flirting with Hedwig in hopes she could help him forget Marie. But every movement she made, every facial expression she had, and every word she spoke made him realize how much more beautiful, intelligent, and desirable her cousin was. That morning he hadn’t been able to stand it anymore and set out on his way to the Ziegelgraben. Dressing up in his finery, he wanted to impress her and show her how important he had become. “Look at me,” he wanted to say. “Even a knight is hardly better than I am.” But she wouldn’t even glance his way.
As he sighed with resignation, his eyes wandered admiringly over her flawless body. He had to figure out how to win her back. Staring at the ceiling of the narrow but nicely decorated attic room, he suddenly had an idea.
“What would you say, Marie, if I made you my mistress and rented a larger room for you where we both could live? Then you’d finally have peace and quiet from the filthy old goats that come beating at your door.”
“I hardly believe you have enough money to support me. I’m a very expensive whore.” She tried to sound facetious. She was in fact furious, assuming that because she had rejected him, he now wanted to humiliate her by buying her outright and keeping her for himself.
“I’m not a poor man,” Michel assured her with naive pride.
“You’d have to spend more than twice what I earn in a day, plus pay for my clothes and the laundry. Not even a knight with a hundred bonded servants can afford that.”
Michel lay down alongside her and placed his right hand gently on her belly. “You don’t seem to know how much a captain of the guards makes. I’ve lived very modestly and have put together a small fortune.”
“As anyone can see looking at your splendid armor and clothing,” she replied in a mocking tone.
“So you like me.” Michel grinned, pleased with himself, which irritated Marie even more.
Trying to stay calm, she admitted to herself that it was indeed tempting to be at the service of only one man even if it did mean being his servant and his bedmate. But she didn’t want to give this brash taverner’s son the chance to puff out his chest every day, reminding her of her fall into disgrace and his own rise up the social ladder. “You’re the last man in the world I’d give myself to,” she wanted to shout in his face. Yet she couldn’t risk antagonizing him, so instead, she tilted her head to the side and looked at him , raising an eyebrow.
“What does it mean to like you? Every rooster looks splendid in its bright feathers, but only after it’s been plucked can you can see whether it’s suitable for frying or only fit to make soup.”
Michel burst out laughing. “What has become of the shy little Marie Schärer that I used to know? Your tongue has become as sharp as a sword.”
“Through no fault of my own.” With those few words, Michel suddenly understood much more about Marie’s true feelings, and it was clear to him that he’d have to be very patient to win her over. Sooner or later she’d realize that he wasn’t just another customer but that he wanted to be her confidant and friend. But how, he wondered, could he prove to her that he didn’t look at her simply as a body to be paid for, used, and forgotten, but rather as a woman worthy of being cherished?
VIII.
Mombert Flühi’s journeyman Wilmar was once again at odds with God and the world. As if there weren’t already enough problems with Abbot Hugo and Philipp von Steinzell, now fate had also washed this palatine captain onto Constance shores. Though Hedwig carefully avoided the two others, she was clearly pleased to welcome Michel Adler into the house.
Intimidated by the officer’s presence, he was quite aware that Michel impressed Hedwig. This aggravated Wilmar to no end, as he loved the girl and hoped that she would someday return his affections.
As the third son of a Meersburg master cooper, Wilmar
could become a master himself only if he married another master’s daughter, since then his father-in-law would customarily help advance his career. Before the council meeting had overshadowed everything else in the city, Hedwig had shown a modest interest in him, and he had fallen passionately in love with her.
Now, however, Mombert and his daughter had quite different concerns and hardly paid any attention to Wilmar. Brooding so deeply he forgot to pay attention to his work, Wilmar suddenly saw that he’d ruined a stave he was about to insert into a barrel. He blamed that on Michel as well. Throwing the remains into the scrap pile, he went to pick up another stave. As he did so, he glanced at the apprentices and noticed that once again, Melcher was missing. Wilmar resolved to speak with his master about that rebellious youth who constantly skipped work, setting a bad example for the younger workers. While Wilmar was still wondering where Melcher might be, the door opened and the master entered.
Mombert noticed at once that the apprentice was missing. “Wilmar, where is Melcher?”
His barking made Wilmar cringe. “I don’t know. Perhaps he’s gone to the outhouse.”
The two younger apprentices looked at each other, grinning. They were pleased to see the master so angry at Melcher, because if what Melcher told them was true, he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Bragging to them that he had friends who offered him more money than what his father had paid for his apprentice fees, Melcher no longer took his cooper training seriously and mocked the younger ones for their willingness to learn.
Mombert glared at Wilmar. “So, you don’t know? It’s your job to keep an eye on the apprentices. If you let them fool around like this, I’ll have to look for another journeyman.”
Shocked, Wilmar jumped up. “I’ll go get Melcher right away and bring him back, master.”
Mombert shoved him back onto his seat. “So then two pair of hands will be missing, even though we have so much work we don’t know what to do? No, you’ll work longer in the shop tonight to make up for what Melcher skipped out on. Then when he returns, I’ll give him a good thrashing.” As he said this, Mombert placed his foot down on a large barrel and inserted the last few staves.