by Iny Lorentz
The count raised his hands in feigned despair. “Dear girl, even you must recognize that not everything is as simple as you would like it to be. It wasn’t easy for me to stop them from killing your uncle. Influential friends of the Keilburg count urged sentencing of your uncle as soon as possible, and Habsburg’s vassals were furious that Mombert still hadn’t been broken on the wheel. Fortunately, a peace treaty between their feudal lord and the kaiser was more important to them than his execution, so they agreed when I persuaded the kaiser to take the case on personally.”
Marie pursed her lips with contempt. “These are only ruses that will lead to nothing.”
“Only because of this ruse, as you call it, is your uncle alive at all. If we could get our hands on his apprentice, however, we could expose the true murderer and stop Keilburg in his tracks.”
Marie lowered her head in sadness. Michel’s men had long ago come back empty-handed, and only Wilmar was searching for Melcher. The apprentice seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth, she admitted to the count.
Eberhard had expected nothing else. “In my opinion, the fellow drowned long ago and is at the bottom of the lake.”
Marie buried her face in her hands. “For God’s sake, no! Melcher is the only witness who can prove my uncle’s innocence.”
“Then let’s hope he’s still alive and that Wilmar finds him.” His voice didn’t sound too hopeful, but he placed his arm around her shoulder to console her. “Your uncle’s trial isn’t doomed. Someone just has to explain to the kaiser that Philipp wanted to attack Flühi’s daughter, and that in itself will make it possible for your uncle to be pardoned. But we do need a defender with a good reputation, and I’m not generally regarded as a paragon of virtue.”
Count Eberhard laughed at his own words. “It’s not easy living with Kaiser Sigismund, Marie. The electors have made him both kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire and king of Germany, and thus the most powerful man in Christendom. But he doesn’t have the intellect that this office requires. He’s petty, easily offended, and unnecessarily gruff. Once he’s gotten something into his head, he’ll have his way and tolerate no disagreement. Don’t you remember how he declared Friedrich von Habsburg an outlaw because he helped Pope John to flee from Constance?”
The pope was captured again, and thus the kaiser no longer has any reason to quarrel with the Habsburgs. Sigismund only focuses on what interests him at the moment and in doing so forgets everything else.”
Eberhard continued to recount the kaiser’s intrigues, then paused, looking at Marie. “Are you even listening to me, girl? I said that from now on you have to avoid talking about the philosopher from Bohemia, Jan Hus, or praising him for being an upright man. His sermons have angered Sigismund, and the kaiser’s punishments usually affect not just those who attract his anger but also the people who side with them.”
“What can happen? Master Hus came to the council at the kaiser’s invitation and with a guarantee of safe conduct.”
“Safe-conduct letters from the kaiser are no longer what they used to be,” the Württemberger said derisively.
Marie took the words personally. If the safe-conduct guarantee was no longer valid, then she, too, was in danger. She suddenly felt like a leaf in a storm, and that her hopes of saving her uncle’s life were futile. The court’s documents specified her punishment if she returned to the city, and her plan to destroy Rupert by legal means seemed even to her to be presumptuous. Not even the count, one of the mightiest men in the Reich, had enough influence to free Mombert Flühi or unmask Rupert Splendidus, for he, too, ran the risk of being caught up in the finely woven net that the Keilburg bastard had so cleverly woven.
She was in despair. For a moment, she wondered whether to take her documents to the kaiser herself. But just as quickly, she dismissed the idea, since for a woman like her it would be impossible to get anywhere near the kaiser, and even if she could, he would just give the material to one of the city judges who frequently invited her former fiancé to their homes.
Longing to revive her old plan of hiring an assassin to kill Rupert, she realized that his death wouldn’t save her uncle. No matter how she looked at it, she was dependent on Eberhard and had to hope he didn’t just pursue his own interests and cast hers aside as a distraction.
Count Eberhard looked at Marie and sighed. She would hate him if he couldn’t stop her uncle from being executed for the murder of Squire Philipp. But if he didn’t want to endanger his own plans, he couldn’t do much for her uncle, whose fate was probably sealed even if the apprentice reappeared and testified in favor of his master.
He couldn’t say that to Marie, however, as he still hoped to at least help her get revenge on her former fiancé. Plus, he wanted to keep her as long as he could, as it wasn’t every day he found such a beautiful and willing bedmate. He was shocked to realize she had become more for him than a random mistress. That might be because she’d given him an effective weapon to use against Keilburg, but also, up until then, no woman had ever dared to speak with him so frankly, and none had put so much faith in him as she had.
Musing about his pleasant feelings for Marie, Eberhard walked over to the window and saw, leaning against a wall on the other side of the street, a young officer whom he’d noticed hanging around before. The man, dressed as a palatine guard, was furiously staring at the house as if he wanted to set it on fire. Eberhard turned to Marie and beckoned her over.
“Do you see that fellow? Could he be a Keilburg spy?”
Marie demurred with a laugh. “A Keilburg spy? No, my lord, that’s none other than Michel Adler. He’s an old childhood friend currently in the service of the elector palatine.”
“So that’s who it is. Well, he looks like someone I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.” Count Eberhard looked at Marie incredulously, then burst into laughter. “A childhood friend, you say? It seems there’s more to it than that. That fellow looks like a jealous lover.”
Marie joined in his laughter. “Michel jealous? He knows I’m just here on business and never gets angry about my customers.”
“Then he seems to be making an exception with me. Perhaps I should feel honored.” Looking at her intently, he realized she could indeed arouse strong feelings in a man, and he reached out and pulled her to him.
“Come to bed. I must leave soon and would like to do so feeling good.”
Marie obeyed his order. Trying to be as tempting and seductive as possible, she turned her thoughts to how she could convince him to actually stand up for Mombert and his wife.
III.
“There you are, finally.” Michel moved away from the wall he’d been leaning on for more than three hours and walked toward Marie.
He looked as if he were struggling to control himself, and Marie became irritated, remembering Eberhard’s words. Who did Michel think he was? She was no one’s possession, and if he was going to behave like a jealous lover, they would have to part ways. She could forget her past when she was with strangers, but his very presence was a reminder of his rise to prominence and her fall. On the other hand, she’d find it hard to do without him, because he helped her whenever he could, and his regular visits gave her little house and its inhabitants some degree of protection from unhappy customers and envious bordello owners.
Smiling stiffly, she looked at him. “Count Eberhard von Württemberg is a demanding man, and I must keep him happy so that he helps me get my revenge or at the very least protects me from my enemies. The kaiser’s safe-conduct guarantee may apply to harlots, but Rupert won’t let that stop him from having me thrown in the pillory or drowned in the lake.”
Michel tried not to let her aggressive tone get to him. “I know, but just the same, I don’t like that you’ve surrendered to the count unconditionally. He’s no better than the other nobles. He’ll help you only if he sees some advantage to himself, but if he changes his mind, he’ll drop you l
ike a clump of dirt.”
“Thank you for reminding me again what I am worth,” Marie hissed at him, and broke down in tears.
She didn’t want to fight with Michel. Nevertheless, he’d inadvertently reminded her once again what a dirty profession she had. Constance was a good place, where prostitutes were treated almost like honorable women. Unlike people in other cities, locals here didn’t spit at the sight of them when they walked through the streets, or stop them if they weren’t wearing their yellow ribbons.
Here, they were even allowed into church. Since praying at Arnstein Castle, Marie had never again really been devout, but had instead often doubted her faith. Now, however, she felt the need to place her worries at the feet of the Holy Virgin and ask for her help. As a young girl, she’d often attended Mass at the cathedral in Constance, and now she saw the cathedral tower rising above the nearby houses. Hastening her steps, she turned into the lane leading to the main entrance.
Michel followed her angrily. “Where are you going now? That’s not the way to your house.”
“I’m going to the cathedral to pray.” Ignoring Michel at her side, she simply hurried on. Catching her breath at the church door, she quickly slipped inside. The interior was dimly bathed in a cool light, just enough for her to make out the mighty columns and the walls of the nave. Under the high stained-glass windows, the burning candles on the three altars seemed like islands of refuge surrounded by the colorful paintings and statues of the saints.
Circling the main altar, Marie approached the Pietà, with Mary holding Christ in her lap after he had been taken down from the cross. An inconspicuous statue represented Mary Magdalene, appearing so small that it quite literally stood in the shadow of the Mother of God.
Marie wondered why a prostitute had played such an important role in Jesus’s life. She assumed that it was because the Son of God had always administered to the needs of the despised and oppressed. But Abbot Hugo von Waldkron and the bloated clerics didn’t want to be reminded of that. Silencing her rebellious thoughts, she tried to remember the appropriate prayer.
Michel stood next to a side pillar, keeping an eye on the nave. Watching Marie kneel at the altar, light illuminating her blond hair like a halo, he briefly considered taking her along on a military campaign as his mistress. Constrained in this overcrowded city, he reacted to Marie’s moods much too sharply.
Roused from his thoughts, he saw someone enter through a side door. Michel looked at the new arrival, then shrugged with relief. It was only a haggard Franciscan monk probably from the nearby Barefoot Monks monastery, shuffling toward the Altar of Our Lady. His face was emaciated from fasting, and Michel smelled the sweet odor of blood. The monk must have chastised himself just a few minutes ago. Now he fell to the ground in front of the Pietà, disrupting Marie’s muted prayers.
Moving two paces to the side, Marie was about to say a final prayer when the monk stared at her, raising his arms in a defensive gesture. His face contorted suddenly. “Be gone from me, evil spirit, and torment me no longer in this holy place.”
Marie gaped at the monk, bewildered. Rising to his feet, he made a sign to ward off demons, and only now did she recognize him by his pale eyes.
“Linhard! You miserable traitor!” Her voice was so full of hatred that the man collapsed and crept along the floor toward the altar.
Suddenly realizing she wasn’t a ghost, he turned whiter than anyone Marie had ever seen. “Who calls me by this name that I have long buried and forgotten? Is it you? Are you really Marie Schärer, the daughter of Master Matthis?”
Marie looked down at the man, wanting nothing more than to crush him underfoot like a worm and hurl her boundless contempt into his face. Just in time, she saw the danger she was in. If Linhard told the wrong people about their meeting, her life wouldn’t be worth a penny. With all the self-control she’d learned in her hard life as a harlot, she forced herself to put on a friendly face.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Venerable Brother. My name is Berta, and I have never seen you before.”
She crossed herself, murmuring a hasty amen and curtsying one last time before the Mother of God, then headed toward the door. She almost had to force herself not to look back, for she had the feeling that Linhard’s eyes were boring into her like two burning coals. Briefly, she turned around at the front door, pretending she was only waving to Michel. Linhard was standing with his back to the altar, reaching out to her with one hand. When he saw that she was motioning to a man, he crossed himself and threw himself on the ground again before the Holy Virgin.
Michel looked at Marie questioningly as they left the church. When he noticed that she was trembling, he put his arm around her and held her tight. “What happened in there?”
Her teeth were chattering so hard she could hardly speak. “The monk! It . . . was Linhard! He recognized me!”
Seeing the horror in her eyes, Michel knew that she was reliving her tormented memories, but all he could do was to hold on to her and lead her through the streets as if she were ill. He wished he could send her out of town, for she wasn’t safe there anymore. He also considered lying in wait for Linhard in a dark alley and breaking his neck. But neither solution pleased him. Since he couldn’t leave Constance himself, if she went away, she would have to once again become a wandering harlot with no one at her side. And even though Linhard was truly a repulsive scoundrel, Michel wasn’t the kind of person who could kill a man in cold blood.
He leaned down to Marie and kissed her on the neck. “Keep your head up, girl. I’ll take you home now so you can lie down. Then I’ll bring you a little wine. A good sleep will help you get over your shock. I don’t think the monk will go to Master Rupert right away and tell him of your meeting.”
His caution belied his words, however. Looking around constantly, every time he thought he saw someone heading toward them in the Barefoot Monks’ cowl, he changed direction.
Arriving at the little house on Ziegelgraben, they found Hiltrud and Kordula engaged in a heated discussion with Helma and Nina. The Italian woman had a black eye and a deep, bleeding cut on her forehead that Hiltrud was blotting. Though Marie was still absorbed with thoughts of her unexpected meeting, she immediately turned to Nina.
“What happened to you? Did a customer beat you up like that?”
Helma answered for her, shaking her head. “No, it was our brothel owner. He was annoyed she was at the meeting here today and therefore couldn’t take any customers. At first he just screamed at her, but when Nina stood up to him, he hit her. We won’t go back to that brute. Can we perhaps stay with you? I know it’s pretty crowded, but Nina and I really don’t take up much room.”
Startled, Marie and Hiltrud looked at each other. As it was, it hadn’t been easy to hide Hedwig from strangers, but if Helma and Nina joined them as well, they’d have to let them in on the secret, and that seemed too dangerous. As Marie was trying to figure out how to turn away her friends without insulting them or sending them back to their brothel, Michel cleared his throat and tapped Helma on the shoulder.
“There’s not enough room here for the five of you, but I think I can help. My brother Bruno is planning on setting up a brothel in part of his house, and the two of you could stay with him. If he knows I’ll protect you, he’ll treat you well and not cheat you. Moreover, I have good friends who would be glad to get some advice on where to find some nice girls. What do you think?”
“Maybe you can be first on their list of customers.” Marie was surprised by her angry reaction, but Michel roared with laughter.
“But, Marie, that would hurt your reputation. The whole city knows you’re the only harlot for me.” Marie grimaced, but Hiltrud started to giggle and finally burst out laughing. Nina and Helma also tried to hide their amusement, but their shoulders were twitching. The loyalty with which Michel clung to Marie, even though she treated him so badly, was a popular topic of con
versation among Constance prostitutes.
Helma took a deep breath, tugging playfully on the buckles of Michel’s breastplate.
“Your suggestion isn’t bad at all, soldier. Will you vouch for your brother?”
“I believe I can.” Just a few years before, Bruno had slapped his younger brother every time he talked back. Now his brother bowed and scraped to Michel as soon as he entered the Adler Tavern, anticipating his every wish. “Let’s go right away. And Nina, if your bordello owner comes and demands you back, Bruno will know how to answer him. If Rubli still gives you trouble, I’ll send my soldiers to his bordello to rough up the place.”
Michel’s laughter took some of the effect of the threat away.
All the same, the two young women were relieved, as they knew from experience how nasty a bordello owner could be when he lost his source of income. Saying good-bye to their friends, they left the house quickly, as if fearing this chance might slip from their fingers.
“Thank God,” Kordula groaned. “I never thought the two of them would leave. I didn’t have a single client today.”
“Neither did I.” Hiltrud sighed. “And Hedwig could only come out of her hiding place in the sweltering heat for a few minutes. Now she can finally have something to eat.”
“I’ll tell her they’re gone.” Marie climbed up into her room, stood up on her chest, and pushed back the two boards blocking the entrance to the hiding place. Hedwig quickly stuck her head out. Beet red, with sweat streaming down her face, she looked about to suffocate.
“Just in time,” Kordula joked. She felt sorry for Hedwig but didn’t conceal that she was disturbed by her presence. Just then, she saw a man walking by the house, wearing a Bavarian cavalry officer’s uniform, and she rushed out to talk to him. Marie climbed down the ladder and tugged at Hiltrud’s sleeve.
“It’s possible we’ll have to clear out fast. Someone recognized me.”
“Who?” Hiltrud put her hand to her throat, breathless with shock.