The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) (6 page)

III.

When Marie first regained consciousness, she thought she was back home in her room with the warm sun and street sounds streaming in through an open window. Groping about, however, she realized she was lying undressed and facedown on a blanket in the grass. Shocked, she tried to sit up, but felt a searing pain so severe that she almost lost consciousness again. Her back had swollen into a hard shell, her abdomen was burning, and her entire body was so tense that she couldn’t move a muscle without agony.

Her eyelids were stuck together, and she struggled to open them and look around. She was lying on a frayed blanket scented with lavender, while a lighter but equally shabby blanket was thrown over her. She noticed the tent was faded with age and dappled by the interplay of sunlight and tree shadows.

Slowly and carefully, she turned over, sat up, and discovered a woman occupying the rest of the tent. Sitting cross-legged on a threadbare, patched blanket, the woman was sewing a yellow robe. Though she was large, everything about the woman seemed harmonious. Her sun-bleached hair and deeply tanned skin showed she had spent a lot of time outdoors.

The stranger felt Marie’s scrutiny, raised her head, and looked her over with a cold, severe stare. “So you finally woke up? I’m glad to see you’re in pretty good shape.”

Marie drew back uncertainly and stared at the stranger. “Where am I? And who are you?” Her voice sounded like the cawing of a raven.

“In my tent at the Merzlingen fair. My name is Hiltrud.”

“I’m Marie. But we’re in Merzlingen? That’s a long way from home.”

Hiltrud pointed at the remains of Marie’s robe carelessly tossed in the corner. “It appears that you don’t have a home anymore. If you don’t mind, I’ll just burn that thing, and for now you can wear this robe. I hope it fits, as I had to take it in without being able to get your measurements.”

Marie stared in horror at the shapeless article of clothing in Hiltrud’s hands, but simply asked, “How did I get here?”

“I found you alongside the road and brought you with me.”

Marie lowered her head. “I wish you had left me there to die.”

“Why? I can use a pretty maid.” Hiltrud had no desire to make things easy for Marie. The sooner the girl came to terms with her fate, the better it would be for both of them.

Marie looked around apprehensively. Everything around her was shabby and worn, and the cloth of the robe was of such inferior quality that Elsa and Anne would have rejected it indignantly. “A maid? Who are you that you need a servant?”

Hiltrud held up one of the yellow ribbons on her skirt that indicated her status for all to see. “I’m a courtesan.”

She was immediately annoyed that she had used the euphemistic expression instead of saying openly and honestly that she was an itinerant prostitute.

In any case, Marie understood. Her face twisted in an expression of disgust, and she staggered back toward the side of the tent. “You have sex with men in return for payment?”

Hiltrud shrugged. “I have to make a living somehow.”

“But anything else is better than that, even begging!”

Hiltrud reached back into the corner to fetch what remained of the penitent’s robe, and held it up to Marie’s face. “Now listen to me carefully, child, and get these foolish notions out of your head. After this judgment, you are unfit to be among proper townspeople, considered to be less than the garbage they throw on the streets. Usually they forbid us from entering their cities and curse at us even when we’re cold and dying of hunger, whipping us if we dare to sneak in.”

Suddenly Marie saw herself tied naked at the stake, mercilessly exposed to the gazes of the crowd. She spilled out her entire horrifying story, moaning in pain as sobs shook her body.

Hiltrud reached for a cloth, dipped it in water, and washed Marie’s face. Then she placed the cloth across the young woman’s forehead. “Stay calm, or the fever will return. You can do nothing to change any of that now and will have to put up with your new life, such as it is.”

Marie took a deep breath and squeezed Hiltrud’s hand suddenly. “No, no, I don’t believe I will. Father is certainly on his way here and won’t permit that to happen. I’m sure he will arrive at any moment.”

Hiltrud looked at her skeptically. “That would be nice for you.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive in the next hour or so, and he’ll certainly reward you generously for having saved me. Perhaps you’ll no longer have to . . . to run around.” Marie pointed at Hiltrud’s yellow blouse.

Hiltrud had gathered from Marie’s story that her father had not been especially energetic in standing up for her, but since she did not want to hurt the girl’s feelings, she did nothing to spoil her illusions. “I have no objection if your father wants to pay me a few coins, since I haven’t been able to earn any while caring for you.”

Marie didn’t reply because at that very moment the apothecary stuck his head into the tent. “Greetings, my love . . . Oh! Our little patient is awake. I told you she had strong, healthy blood in her veins.” He smiled, looked at Marie, and asked her to turn around so he could examine her back.

Marie shook her head and defiantly wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.

Hiltrud laughed. “Oh, don’t be so prudish. This is Peter Herbmann, a local apothecary and a good friend of mine who helped me care for you. He’s a better healer than the learned doctors who talk about devils bringing on hellish vapors and give their patients filthy things to eat. As you can tell by his name, Herbmann, he knows every plant and root, and has studied their effects on illnesses of the body and soul. He only wants to look at your wounds.”

Marie relented and allowed the apothecary to take the robe off her back and probe her wounds with his fingers with Hiltrud’s help.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “You’re healing very well. All I need to do is treat a few welts with my extract, and also the dog bites, where poisons may have gathered. Sink your teeth into the blanket, child, because it’s going to hurt.”

Marie grumbled reluctantly, but she was sure she would be immune to almost any pain after the torture she had suffered already. But when the apothecary took the elixir-soaked cloth and dabbed it on her back, her eyes immediately welled with tears. Before she could scream, however, Hiltrud pushed a gag into her mouth.

“Go ahead, bite down on this and be still! Do you want half the marketgoers to come running when they hear your shouts?”

Peter didn’t stop for a moment. “Relax, child. It will be over soon. My elixir will make the wounds heal fast and not leave behind any ugly scars.”

He put the bottle down, and Marie spat out the cloth. If she was going to live, she was at least happy she wouldn’t be forever scarred. She looked suspiciously at the pot of ointment Peter had just picked up, but as he applied it to her back, she noticed that the paste soothed the pains. With a small sigh, she easily submitted to the rest of the treatment, and when Peter was finished, he gave her an encouraging slap on the back of her thigh and stood up. “Let’s look at the rest of your wounds now. Please turn over.”

Marie clenched her teeth tightly and let the apothecary examine her lower parts thoroughly. “You are healing well here, too, but it will just take a bit longer than your back. For this, Hiltrud has her own, very effective mixture of herbs, and I have also brought you an ointment that will prevent scarring of the wounds.”

Hiltrud stroked her hair, trying to comfort her. “Now you have been taken care of. Do you think you can sit outside for a while? Lean back against my wagon and look around a bit.”

“I’ll try.” Her knees were shaking, but with Hiltrud’s help, she was able to stand up. The apothecary straightened out a cloth he had put on her back and helped Hiltrud pull the altered dress on over her shoulders. Reaching almost to the ground, it hung on her like a sheet, but the apothecary nodded his approval. “For the next few days, that’s the right thing for you to wear. It’s loose on your shoulders and doesn’t put any pressure on the welts.”

Marie shuddered and broke out in tears as she looked at the yellow color that prostitutes wore to announce their shameful profession to the world. Now everyone who saw her would consider her a depraved sinner that no priest would allow to step over a church threshold. She thanked Peter, though, as he and Hiltrud led her outside, sitting her down on a folded blanket by the wagon so she could listen to the wind moving through the trees. But when she saw Peter laughingly reaching inside Hiltrud’s blouse, she quickly turned away.

That didn’t help much, since she could still hear the indecent exchanges between the couple and sounds that made her shudder. Horrified, she put her hands over her ears, but then dropped them quickly as pain flashed through her cramping muscles.

Marie told herself she had no right to feel ashamed or condemn Hiltrud for her way of life. The woman certainly had not become a prostitute by choice; circumstance had forced her to it. Just the same, it was disturbing to be only a few steps away from a pair of copulating lovers. Physical love was something men talked about, but only when no woman was present and their tongues had been loosened by wine. Women weren’t even supposed to think of intimate acts, and Marie had strived all her life to do what was expected of a modest virgin. She felt betrayed and angry that the world would now label her a whore.

To take her mind off her pain and the activity in the nearby tent, she looked around at her surroundings. Marie was familiar with the church fairs in Constance, where her father or Wina had taken her since she was a small child. She recalled stalls overflowing with tasty bratwurst sausages and sweet cakes, and her mouth watered as she remembered devouring them while listening to adults haggling over pots, cloth, or entire shipments of wine. She always yearned to watch the gaily dressed performers, but Wina considered them bad people who stole chickens and little children—people a decent young girl should avoid.

Here in Merzlingen, the stalls and tents looked just like those in Constance, yet everything was quite different. Marie saw ragged women and their children bathing openly in the river, shouting to one another in shrill voices, while a fat woman in strange, colorful clothing lit a fire not far from the shore and poured some watery dough into a pan.

Marie buried her face in her hands. She longed for her old, well-ordered world in which she was a woman who didn’t have to commit a sin to earn her daily bread. Seizing on the thought that her father would come get her, she again told herself that it wouldn’t be long before he arrived, as there weren’t many roads from Constance to Singen. She’d ask him to buy Hiltrud a little house with a pasture, and enough goats to make an honest living. She would give alms for the salvation of her soul, and she’d also generously reward the apothecary. Then her father could take her away somewhere she could slowly forget all the bad things that had happened to her.

As Marie sat pondering her future, the apothecary left the tent with a satisfied smile. He waved briefly to her and then disappeared in the direction of the gray walls that extended along the far edge of the meadow.

Hiltrud’s head appeared in the doorway. “You can come back in, Marie. Would you like some breakfast? You like goat’s milk, don’t you?”

“I don’t know . . . probably.” Only now did she notice that the good smell of the fritters had made her hungry. As she tried to stand up, however, everything started spinning, and she sank to the ground in pain.

Hiltrud put a sheet over her, lifted her up, and led her into the tent. She helped her stretch out on the sheet, then took out two cups and left to milk the goats. When she returned, she was holding the cups of milk along with two leaf-wrapped fritters she had bought.

“Sleep a little while. You’ll have to go outside again soon, as the first customers come at noon at the latest,” Hiltrud told her between mouthfuls. “I’ve got to earn a lot of money if I want to survive the winter. I’ll make a comfortable place for you under the willows so you can rest in the shade.”

Marie had a lump in her throat. She regretted being such a burden on Hiltrud and at the same time was ashamed to eat bread that had been earned immorally. Her stomach didn’t share her concerns, however, and only shouted for more. She clenched her teeth and asked Hiltrud for another cup of milk.

The tall woman left the tent and soon returned with half a cup of milk. “That’s all the milk the goats have to give today, but you can help yourself to some water from the kettle. It’s from the spring outside.”

“I didn’t want to drink all your milk,” Marie whispered. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t let you waste away, or you won’t get any better.”

Hiltrud stood up and fastened the tent flap on a crossbar. “Now, I’ve got to see if any worthwhile men come by.”

Marie stared at her. “Why do you do this, anyway? With your strength, you could surely get some other kind of work.”

Hiltrud shook her head. “No housewife would employ a prostitute as a maid, if only out of fear for the morals of her husband and her sons.”

“How did you become a courtesan?” Marie couldn’t bring herself to say “prostitute.”

“My father sold me to a brothel owner when I was thirteen,” Hiltrud replied without bitterness. “I worked there almost ten years until I’d saved enough to buy my freedom. Now I’m a wandering whore without a home, but at least I am my own mistress.”

Tears came to Marie’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.” Hiltrud saw a number of men dressed in city clothes approaching, and quickly put the cups away. “You’ve got to go outside again. These fellows look like the kind I can do business with.” Without waiting for Marie’s reply, she stood up and walked toward the men, swinging her hips.

Marie pulled herself up on a tent pole and staggered out. Her head started spinning again, but she wanted to get as far away as possible from the tent and the noises that would soon come from inside. First she clung to a tree, but she then walked slowly toward one of the willows along the shore. Looking back, she saw that Hiltrud had come to terms with one of the men, and Marie prayed to the Virgin Mary for her father to rescue her from this nightmare. But once again, her prayers were not answered.