The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series Book 1) Read online

  In contrast with the others, Thomas, the goatherd, didn’t have to pay. A year older than Hiltrud, he had been born deformed and was thus unable to become a warrior. He had a slender face with deep-set gray eyes surrounded by a full head of light brown hair and bore a slight resemblance to Sir Dietmar. Apparently, the former lord of the castle also took comfort in other women during his wife’s pregnancy, and Thomas had been born about seven months after Dietmar. What Hiltrud liked about Thomas was his wonderfully gentle and friendly behavior toward her, along with his skill in raising animals. He accepted her attentions as a precious gift and enjoyed her friendship.

  Hiltrud found it hard to restrain her emotions, but as she had learned through bitter experience, it wasn’t smart for her to have special feelings for a man. Their love would only survive the winter; then she would have to resume her old life in the spring and once again take to the roads. For this reason, she wasn’t ready to give up her professional favors for Giso and other men just for love.

  She had even slept with the monk Jodokus once, though he smelled bad and had offered only a few Haller pennies for her services. Normally she would have turned someone like him away, but in the castle she didn’t dare say no because his words carried weight with the lady. Since the monk had no experience with prostitutes, the sex act was brief, but afterward he questioned her for more than an hour about Marie. Later that evening, she had joked with her friend about it, but Marie was aloof, grimacing and muttering curses when the monk’s name was mentioned.

  One evening, Hiltrud was in bed with Thomas in the little shed over the goat stable that served as his home. Bark still hung from the unfinished wallboards, and the room was perched in the rafters like a bird’s nest. Thomas had constructed a bed, a small table, and two stools out of wood scraps, and a few hooks made of forked branches completed the furnishings. There wasn’t room for anything else there, but the goatherd was content with its snugness.

  While Hiltrud lay lost in thought, he sat up and looked at her breasts that, despite their size, were still firm. “You are beautiful.”

  “Marie is beautiful,” Hiltrud contradicted. “I’m just acceptable.”

  “You’re hiding your light under a bushel,” Thomas remonstrated gently. “To me you are the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’ll be very sad when you leave me.”

  “I’m not a woman you should fall in love with. Even now I’m not too faithful, as you know.”

  “You’re making a living, just as I am caring for the goats.”

  Thomas’s voice caressed her as gently as a spring breeze, and Hiltrud couldn’t help thinking how happy she could be if she weren’t so worried about Marie. The goatherd seemed to read her thoughts, for he pulled the blanket over her and stroked her cheek.

  “What is troubling you so much?”

  “Oh, it’s only Marie. Why can’t she be happy in the present, like we are? All she ever thinks about is getting revenge on the man who destroyed her life. She might as well take a handful of snow and throw it at the sun to put it out.”

  Thomas smiled dreamily. “Sometimes all it takes is a handful of snow to put out a fire.”

  Hiltrud shook her head in annoyance. “Don’t encourage her with this foolishness.”

  “I won’t do that, but you should warn her that people are talking about how she sneaks into the great hall when the noblemen meet there. If Lady Mechthild hears about it, she’ll think your friend is a spy and have her locked in the dungeon.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Hiltrud promised, and snuggled up closer.

  Planning to give Marie a scolding when she left Thomas’s room, she saw that the guests and their retinues were preparing to leave, and breathed a sigh of relief. Now she didn’t need to fear for her friend anymore.

  The noblemen’s faces looked strained as they said their hearty farewells to Sir Dietmar. Despite the danger they were all in, their neighborly relationships had grown even more tense. Hiltrud watched as the horsemen left, and she crossed herself three times.

  Lady Mechthild, standing in a green dress in the residence tower doorway, laughed with relief. Her hands had been full keeping her husband and his hotheaded friends from doing things that would surely have turned out badly. Nothing could be gained by a feud using brute force against the Keilburgs, and it would have only turned other nearby castle owners against them, as wars disturbed trade and reduced income.

  Mechthild waved and smiled at her husband who had escorted his guests on horseback for a short way, and he returned the greeting sullenly as he rode back into the castle.

  When he dismounted, she hurried toward him and lightly pressed his hand to her cheek. “I know that allies are important, but I’m happy to have our castle to ourselves again. After a while our guests were a bit of a strain.”

  Dietmar took his hand away and tossed the reins to a stable boy, then stared at her with a mixture of anger and despair. “In their eyes I’m a coward because I don’t want to assert my rights by force.”

  “A right that you assert by force is like a law of the jungle,” she lectured him gently. “Our only chance against Count Konrad von Keilburg is an appeal to the Imperial Court of Justice. Even Konrad von Keilburg isn’t powerful enough to oppose the will of the kaiser. Until then, we’ll have to look around for a friend who is more powerful than Keilburg.”

  “So you still think I should ally myself with Count Eberhard von Württemberg?” Sir Dietmar didn’t sound entirely convinced.

  Smiling widely, she nodded and embraced him, then gave him a big kiss.

  Catching herself eavesdropping, Hiltrud ran back into the tower. Entering their room, she found Marie sitting at one of the windows, staring into the distance. Hiltrud placed her hands on her hips and shook her head disapprovingly. “You brood too much, Marie.”

  Marie looked as if her friend had wakened her from a deep sleep. “I can’t help myself. Ever since I’ve been here, I constantly think of Rupert, and I long for the day he and his scoundrels get their just punishment. For a while I’d hoped Sir Dietmar would declare a feud against the Keilburgs and that Rupert would lose the protection of his aristocratic half brother. Then all I would have to do is hire an assassin to dispatch the monsters who ruined me.”

  “You’re dreaming. Lady Mechthild will never allow hostilities to develop.”

  Marie nodded somberly. “I know. After all, I overheard the conversations.”

  “Yes, and that was a very risky thing to do. The servants are already talking about it, and Thomas asked me to warn you.”

  Marie shrugged and thrust out her lower lip. “What does a goatherd like him know?”

  “He’s very bright and knows better than most what’s going on in the castle. You need to pull yourself together and forget your silly ideas. Enjoy the time we spend here. This is the easiest money we’ve made in the last three years.”

  “I’d rather be a camp prostitute in an army hell-bent on destroying the Keilburgs,” Marie exploded. “Here I’m not getting anywhere. Perhaps Sir Dietmar and his friends will get a favorable ruling from the Imperial Court, but that won’t help me. No court in the world will give me satisfaction!”

  Marie broke out in tears of despair, and Hiltrud put comforting arms around the young woman. Marie clung to her like a little child, but the words she spoke revealed a hatred that made Hiltrud shudder.

  VI.

  Shortly after the noblemen departed, it started to snow heavily, and Arnstein tucked itself in for the winter. Only rarely did anyone enter or leave the castle. Twice a messenger from an ally came struggling through the snow, and Marie watched as, completely exhausted, he was lifted out of the saddle and brought into the castle. Unable to overhear the conversation, she had to rely on rumors circulating among the servants.

  It was said that neither Dietmar nor his allies had succeeded in finding support. The Keilburgs also seemed paral
yzed by the winter, however, and the count had apparently dismissed some of his mercenaries, sending the rest of his army to their winter quarters. His men still controlled the main highway to the north but allowed a few wagon trains and travelers to pass. Only the horsemen and vassals belonging to Arnstein Castle or Rumold von Bürggen were forced to take the dangerous route through the swamp.

  Marie rarely spoke with Hiltrud, who spent most of her time with Thomas. When the two did see each other, Hiltrud talked mostly about her goats. Thomas had supplied his best ram, and Hiltrud was thrilled about the young kids on the way. Greatly enjoying this life, Hiltrud struggled with tears when she thought about leaving in the spring.

  Meanwhile, Marie was helping the maids in the sewing room to prepare and decorate with fancy embroidery clothes for the child that Lady Mechthild would bear in a few weeks. Marie had once been adept with needle and thread, sewing and decorating her own dowry, and Lady Mechthild was so pleased with her work that she gave Marie enough remnants and good thread to make two dresses, two scarfs, and a few undershirts for Hiltrud and herself.

  Marie enjoyed the sewing as it took her mind off her dark musings, but one morning after an especially bad night plagued with nightmares, she had no desire to do anything. Pushing some ribbons aside, she put her hands in her lap and stared out the window. Just a few bare trees with snow-covered crowns and part of the road to the castle were visible, but the view let her feel less confined.

  She suddenly blinked in astonishment. For more than a week, only residents of the castle or small nearby village had entered the castle gates, but now strangers were approaching on horseback. Since they were weaving through the trees, she couldn’t see their exact numbers, but she guessed there were at least a dozen men.

  When the tower watchman sounded the alert, the maids excitedly hurried to the windows to see, but the horsemen had already disappeared behind the castle wall. Since Guda had left the room to assist the lady in preparing for the unexpected guests, the women ran down the hallway like a swarm of chicks until they arrived at a window overlooking the inner courtyard. As the first rider passed through the gate with a pennant proudly raised, one of maids cried out in astonishment. “That’s the Keilburg coat of arms. What are they doing here?”

  Heart pounding, Marie didn’t even try to glance out the window, but instead ran outside to look for a place from which to secretly view the travelers’ reception. Since the visitors hadn’t yet reached the last gate, she ran over the drawbridge into the inner part of the castle and hid in the feeding aisle of the noblemen’s horse stable. Pushing a crate under a small barred opening, she climbed up and was able to see everything happening outside.

  No sooner had she settled down in her observation post than the new arrivals entered the courtyard. They were in fact Keilburgs, as the coat of arms on their cloaks made clear. Judging by their dress and their behavior, however, these ten armed men were not ordinary horsemen but hired mercenaries escorting a nobleman. Marie glanced at the eleventh man and the blood in her veins ran cold. It was none other than Counselor Rupert Splendidus.

  Only ten steps away from her hiding place, he stopped his horse and looked around. He appeared to be counting the warriors deployed in the castle courtyard and on the battlements. He was biting his lip and looked troubled. She surmised that he clearly hadn’t expected so many soldiers. A triumphant smile lit her face. Rupert had been fooled by Lady Mechthild’s trick, planned weeks ago, in which she had weapons and uniforms made for all the servants to make the castle’s armed force seem much larger than it was. Even Thomas stood armed with a long spear atop the walkway where no one could see his hunched back.

  Marie’s triumphant smile faded when she looked more closely at Rupert. The last three and a half years had been good to him. Stouter than she remembered and better dressed than a man of his position could ordinarily afford to be, he was wearing a beaver skin cap and a coat of the finest Flemish wool trimmed with wolf’s fur to protect him from the cold. As he dismounted and removed his gloves, she saw half a dozen golden rings glittering on his fingers.

  “I wish to speak with Sir Dietmar!” His voice filled the courtyard.

  “What do you want from me?” The lord of the castle had stepped onto a balcony from which he could get a good look at the uninvited guests without having to fear a surprise attack.

  Turning his head upward, Rupert faced Dietmar. “I come in the name of my esteemed brother, Count Konrad von Keilburg. He has ordered me to negotiate with you.”

  This reply was so surprising that at first Sir Dietmar didn’t seem to know how to answer. Resting his hands on the balcony, he looked closely at Rupert. “If Count Konrad wishes to hand over my uncle’s inheritance, you are welcome to talk. Otherwise, anything you have to say is superfluous.”

  Rupert’s smile was inscrutable. “I can’t offer you that. Sir Otmar may once have promised to leave Mühringen to you, but he since changed his mind and bequeathed his castle and land to my brother in a signed agreement. Count Konrad does not wish to quarrel, however, and has sent me with a message of peace. I would prefer not to present my message out in the cold in front of everyone but would appreciate coming indoors to savor a cup of the excellent wine from your wife’s vineyard.”

  Rupert seemed to be trying to position himself as an equal and give Dietmar some hope of settling the dispute through negotiation. Based on her own unhappy experience, Marie suspected that a conversation with Rupert could prove more dangerous for Dietmar than a thousand armed soldiers standing before Arnstein’s walls. But knowing Dietmar as she did, she was certain he would take Keilburg’s offer as a sign of weakness and agree to talk.

  Breathing quickly, Marie didn’t want to miss a word. She jumped down from her crate, ran through the servants’ quarters and up some stairs into the stronghold of the castle, then continued into a gallery above the great hall. Since everyone was preoccupied with the visitors, she managed to reach her observation post on the upper staircase without being seen. She was sure Sir Dietmar would receive Rupert here, where the pictures of his ancestors and many battle trophies displayed his impressive power and lineage.

  She was right. Crouching on the stairwell, she barely had time to wrap her dress around her legs to ward off drafts before the lord of the castle led his visitor in. Dietmar sat down first, looking like a king on his elaborately carved throne at the head of the large table. He had his cup filled with wine while Rupert stood like a supplicant until a servant brought him a chair. Since the counselor’s thin smile didn’t waver, it was hard to tell if he was offended. Taking the offered chair, Rupert waited until a servant had filled his cup as well, then drank to Dietmar as if they were best friends.

  “So what does your brother have in mind?” Sir Dietmar was gruff, but Marie was angered that Rupert had succeeded in impressing him, as the knight was now addressing the counselor as an equal.

  “Count Konrad regrets the bad feelings between you two and would like an amicable settlement.”

  “All he has to do is to give me what is mine,” Dietmar replied curtly.

  Once again Rupert’s lips twisted into an inscrutable smile. “Unfortunately, my brother sees matters differently. He has an ironclad contract awarding him Otmar’s possessions and sees no reason to relinquish it.”

  “Is that so?” Sir Dietmar called loudly for his scribe.

  Just then, a door opened in the great hall as if someone had been waiting outside, and the monk entered. In front of him he was carrying with great care a long leather roll that he handed to his lord.

  Sir Dietmar took the roll, pulled out a parchment sheet, and handed it to Rupert with a triumphant expression. “Read this yourself! Here, signed and sealed, it states that my uncle has bequeathed his possessions to me and cannot change his will without my approval.”

  Rupert glanced at the contract and briefly grimaced; then his face once again became blank. “That’s a matter
of interpretation. According to current law, a newer testament supersedes an older one. Even if you go to court, this contract won’t gain you more than a small compensation out of all proportion to the costs and trouble that a trial incurs.” He put the document down in front of him on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t even look at his wine while Dietmar was having his glass filled again.

  “But in order to be a good neighbor, and to put an end to this disagreement,” said Rupert, stressing the words good neighbor, “my brother offers you the Steinwald Forest.”

  The lord of the castle pounded the table furiously. “He stole that property from Saint Ottilien’s monastery. Does he want to sow the seeds of discord between me and the abbot?”

  “You shouldn’t be so hasty. It wasn’t my brother who took Steinwald from the monastery, but Sir Gottfried himself who unlawfully went to war with the justified claims of my father, Count Heinrich.”

  For a moment, Marie felt like she was again in the Constance courtroom, hearing Rupert’s merciless voice condemning her to her ruinous fate. She realized that Rupert was an insidious enemy who knew how to beat his adversary with the power of words. Now he was aiming to drive Dietmar into a corner. The lord of the castle was still mulling over Rupert’s words when the counselor raised his hand and continued speaking.

  “Before you say or do things that you will later regret, please hear me out. My brother is not your enemy. He is only defending what is lawfully his. You, too, would not have permitted it if your uncle had bequeathed his property to you and another neighbor presented an older will to contest it.”