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

  Amidst the jeers of some in the crowd, Marie got back onto her feet and stumbled on. Knowing that at least one person believed in her innocence gave her new strength. The evening before, she had mistaken Michel’s words for the angry prattle of a jealous young man, but now she realized she had done him an injustice. Michel loved her and had wanted to save her from this fate. She would probably never have the chance to thank him for that.

  The only people who could help her now were her father and uncle. She hoped they would follow her and hide her from the world, allowing the wounds of her body and soul to heal. As she clung to these thoughts, her feet shuffled along behind the bailiff’s horses mechanically.

  As the last of the onlookers headed back, Marie could see Mombert speaking earnestly and softly to his brother-in-law as if trying to console him. Her father, however, vehemently waved him off, turned around, and tottered back toward town without even a last glance at Marie. Mombert spread his arms out wide in despair and kept looking back and forth between Marie and his brother-in-law. When he saw Matthis stumble, he hurried after him to steady him.

  Marie stared at them in disbelief. Her own father was abandoning her! That was the last thing she had expected. Without the help of her relatives, without a coin in her pocket or a place to seek refuge, she wouldn’t survive more than a few days. She was mired in shock and misery, sharp stones cut into the soles of her feet, her heart cramped at every beat, and the world around her turned so gray she could barely see where she was walking. Were these the signs of the imminent death that would finally bring her relief? she wondered.

  She stared at the bailiffs and wondered if they would simply abandon her alongside the road. Marie didn’t know that the bailiffs had an interest in sparing her and that for this reason they held their horses to a slow pace. If she died, they couldn’t just leave her by the side of the road; it was their duty to bury the person in their care, digging a hole for the body with their bare hands. They wanted to avoid such an onerous task, and in any case no one was urging them on, so they chatted as if they were on a pleasant country outing, before finally stopping at the tavern in Wollmatingen.

  Tying Marie next to the horses, the men gave her water from the trough, then went into the tavern for a hearty meal and some wine. Marie was young and strong, and the rest did her good. Her heart beat more calmly, and the veil before her eyes was lifting, so she could again see where she was. She didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed that she was still alive.

  The bailiffs spent the night in Allensbach at an inn on comfortable straw mattresses while Marie slept inside a shed on the cold ground. Again, she was given only water. Not until the next morning did one of the bailiffs bring her bread crusts and a cup of the cheapest wine, pressing them both into her fettered hands. “Eat and drink,” he ordered her. “This afternoon we will leave you, and you can go where you wish as long as it isn’t in the direction of Constance.”

  Marie gripped the cup with both hands and drank so fast that she spilled some. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat, but she drank it all. She wanted to ask the man for a second cup, but he turned away as if regretting his compassionate gesture.

  “Now get up. We don’t want to waste the whole day hanging around here.” He tied her again to his stirrup, and she struggled to her feet, stumbling along behind her guards. After a few hours, the bailiffs stopped again. One of the men jumped down, untied Marie’s hands, and pushed her down the road.

  “That is where you must go. Don’t even think of showing your face again, as the venerable judge will not deal with you so mercifully the next time.”

  “Mercifully?” Marie almost choked on her hatred and struggled for breath. But before she could get her voice back again, the two court bailiffs had turned their horses and ridden off at a fast trot. For Marie, all that remained on this beautiful, hot July day were the dusty road and the blistering sun.

  A few steps away, an ancient, storm-ravaged oak spread its shadow over the road where it forked, one route leading to Singen and the other to Radolfzell. For a while Marie stood there, uncertain which way to go. Finally, she decided on the road to Singen, the route shaded by old trees.

  IX.

  Ever since hearing the news of Marie’s upcoming marriage to Counselor Rupert Splendidus, Michel had been tormented by fears. It had been clear to him that this betrothal could only bring unhappiness to Marie, but he could never have imagined that she’d be slandered and arrested, as her maid Elsa had breathlessly reported to him earlier that morning when he’d bumped into her on the street. Perhaps it would have been better if he’d recounted to Marie the story he’d overheard one night in a tavern, told by a family servant who had lost his position when his master had been driven away. The man hadn’t minced his words and had spoken of Rupert’s deceit, perjury, and forgery. His accusations were so serious that his table companion had advised him to keep quiet if he valued his life. Since Michel had heard other similar rumblings about Rupert Splendidus, he was angry at himself for not having been more insistent when he spoke with Marie. He was entirely convinced of her innocence.

  Later that morning, as he was wiping down tables in front of the tavern, a passerby casually mentioned that Marie Schärer had been convicted and was at that moment being whipped. Michel dropped his cleaning rag and ran after the man. A large crowd had already formed to watch, so Michel had to settle for a place at the edge of the square where he couldn’t see the pillory but could hear the snap of the whip. Every time Marie let out an anguished cry, he cringed as if the blows were landing on his back.

  Not until the court bailiffs were dragging Marie behind them was he able to see her. With her short-cropped hair standing out like a halo around her head and with her pained expression, she looked to him like a statue of a Christian martyr that had sprung to life. This girl was as pure and innocent as an angel; he was more certain than ever about that. In that moment, he resolved to stand with Marie against all the dangers of the world. Without even thinking about having nothing but the clothes on his back and only his bare hands to earn a living, he let himself be carried along with the gaping crowd in order to slip out of town unnoticed and follow Marie.

  Just then, his father spotted him, grabbed him by the nape of the neck, and dragged him back home. “So my high-and-mighty son chooses to abandon his job and run after a half-naked wench and leave all the work for his brothers. Get back to work, you wretched loafer, or I’ll lose my temper.”

  Standing up to his father would only have gotten Michel a sound beating and a few nights locked in the cellar. If he wanted to protect Marie, he’d have to wait until his father and brothers were distracted by customers. He didn’t know where the bailiffs would take Marie. They were on horseback, so they would certainly go beyond city boundaries, and that was more than a day’s ride away. If he didn’t want to lose track of them, he would have to follow before nightfall. He therefore waited, impatiently, for an opportunity to leave the house unnoticed.

  Guntram Adler didn’t tolerate idleness, least of all with his sons. Each of them had to do the work of two that day, because so many guests were crowded into the taproom that the tables in front of the building were all occupied, and others had to stand drinking their beer. Every time Michel tried to take a break, Bruno or his father had something else for him to do. To his annoyance, none of his tasks took him far enough from his family to allow him to run off. Late in the afternoon, Bruno gave him a short rest.

  As he sat down for a few minutes, the first image that flashed into his mind was of Marie’s pain-wracked face, and his thoughts focused on the girl he loved with every fiber of his being. Despising his cowardice, he told himself it would have been better simply to run off instead of giving in to his father. He knew he had to help her, and looking around carefully, he tried to think how he could slip out unnoticed.

  But as he watched his sweat-covered younger brothers emerging from the cellar
, Michel wondered if anyone would even miss him. After all, he had seven brothers and two sisters. In addition to Michel, there were three brothers living at home, and since only the eldest would inherit the tavern, the younger ones would have to stay with the oldest one as servants, without ever being able to start their own family.

  A booming voice tore Michel from his thoughts. Standing over him was Guntram Adler, about to give him another slap. “Are you loafing around again? There are guests in front of the building who are waiting to be served.”

  His father turned away to answer a question from someone standing next to him, so Michel picked up some empty mugs and hurried out. A cluster of youths had gathered on the little green outside the tavern, and their main topic was Marie. The lads talked at great length about her outstanding physical features and bragged about bedding her.

  Michel was seized with such anger that he dropped the mugs carelessly on the table and grabbed a young goldsmith by the arm.

  “Liar! Marie would never have even looked at a wretch like you.”

  Startled, Benedikt looked up. “Hey, what are you doing? Let me go! Besides, what does it matter to you if I had my way with Marie?”

  “Here are a few whacks for your lies,” said Michel, hitting him so hard with two blows that he was knocked off the bench. Angrily, the boy jumped up and attacked Michel. He was two years older and heavier than Michel, always winning whenever they had wrestled, but this time neither his strength nor his agility did him any good. He was about to get the worst beating of his life, when Michel’s father intervened and separated them.

  “Stop! No fighting in my tavern.” Benedikt tucked his torn shirt into his trousers and lifted his head up. “That son of yours attacked me for no reason.”

  Guntram Adler didn’t even give Michel a chance to explain himself, but smacked him in the face with the back of his hand. Casting a furious look at his son, the taverner put his arm around Benedikt’s shoulder, and smiled.

  “Have a seat inside, lad. Bruno will get you a stool and bring you a big mug of beer. And you, Michel, won’t show your face here anymore tonight. Is that clear?”

  Without another look at Michel, he led Benedikt into the tavern, the other boys following.

  Michel watched them leave, his fury at the boys’ lies giving way to anger at his father. He wants me out of his sight? he thought. Very well, I’ll do him that favor. Michel had been treated like an unpaid servant in his own home, and he figured he couldn’t do worse elsewhere. But first he’d have to find Marie.

  Without another thought, he climbed the narrow back stairs to the small attic room he shared with his two younger brothers. There were three straw sacks in the room with thin blankets on them as well as several wooden hooks for their few clothes. Michel wrapped his spare articles of clothing in a blanket, knotting it into a bundle. Then he quickly searched inside his straw sack for a small hidden package that contained his savings of customers’ tips that he had carefully pocketed without his father or brothers noticing. He tucked the little package under his shirt, tied up his straw sack, and threw the bundle over his shoulder, quietly leaving the room.

  Fate seemed to be on his side, for he didn’t meet anyone as he sneaked out the side door and through the narrow space between the tavern and the neighbor’s house. But he didn’t dare take a deep breath until he had passed the weary guards at the Rhine Gate and crossed the bridge. Nightfall was approaching, but since the cloudless sky promised bright moonlight, he decided to press on and follow Marie as long as possible. His father or brothers wouldn’t come looking for him until morning, and by then he wanted to be so far away that they would give up their search.

  One glance at the moon rising over the trees reminded him how quickly time was passing, and he hastened his steps. He strode along until his legs became as heavy as lead and his stomach started to growl.

  By daybreak he was so tired that he crept into some underbrush by the roadside to take a quick nap. He had hardly closed his eyes, however, when he was overwhelmed by nightmares in which Marie was lying dead in front of him. Starting awake with a shout, he jumped up and decided to continue on his way despite his exhaustion. In a tavern he bought a cup of wine and a piece of cold roasted meat for a few pennies. He stayed there only as long as it took him to gulp down the food.

  During the day he passed drivers and travelers on their way to Constance, but he didn’t greet anyone, much less ask about Marie. If one of those men went to his father’s tavern and recounted meeting Michel, his relatives would know where to find him.

  Just before dusk, he saw two riders approaching. He recognized the two bailiffs who had taken Marie out of the city and went to them. The two men had drunk many mugs of his father’s beer in the past, and they greeted him with surprise. “Hello, Michel. Where are you heading so late at night?”

  “Greetings, Burkhard. Greetings, Hannes. Have you taken Marie far enough away?”

  “Of course, Michel. She won’t show up again in Constance any time soon.” Michael looked at Michel intently. “Why do you ask? I don’t suppose you’re running after her?”

  Michel seemed so embarrassed by the question that the two bailiffs started to laugh.

  “Did the little hussy get your blood boiling, Michel? Forget it, I’m telling you. She isn’t worth getting a good fellow like you in trouble.”

  Michel shook his head stubbornly. “Nevertheless, you could tell me which way she went.”

  Burkhard hesitated, but his companion didn’t have to be asked twice. “We left her where the road branches off to Radolfzell, and from there she headed south, probably down toward the Rhine. The boatmen and carriage drivers are always glad to welcome a new whore. Godspeed, Michel.” Then he spurred his horse on and rode away. Burkhard followed him, shaking his head.

  “Why did you lie to the boy? You saw yourself that she was heading for Singen.”

  His companion shrugged. “Do you want Michel to make a fool of himself because of a harlot? I don’t. Let him go to Radolfzell and down to the Rhine. By then he’ll get over it. Besides, the boatmen know him and will bring him back to Constance. In three days at most the lad will be home again. His father will be grateful and treat us to a cup or two of wine.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a drink in Guntram Adler’s tavern. He brews the best beer in Constance.” Burkhard decided to see Michel’s father as soon as they arrived the next day.

  Meanwhile, Michel forged ahead, filled with new hope. Just before sundown, he reached the crossing to Radolfzell and headed south. He had missed Marie by less than a half hour. When he had reached the town of Stein am Rhein after a strenuous march over the Schienerberg Mountains, people just responded by shaking their heads when he asked about her.

  But Burkhard and Hannes were wrong. Michel did not turn back home, and though his father complained for a while about the thankless brat, he finally shrugged and tried to forget him. He had enough other sons and didn’t need to shed any tears over the loss of one. Every so often, however, a customer would ask about the boy and remind them all of the day Marie Schärer had been banished and Michel Adler had run off looking for her.

  X.

  Earlier on, Matthis Schärer had made a decision. Ever since his daughter had been accused, he had not been able to think rationally, but now his mind had cleared again. Watching Marie being driven from town as she stumbled behind the bailiffs, he had realized that despite any possible misdeeds, she was still his daughter, and he wouldn’t allow her to suffer any more than she already had. He decided to return home, hitch up the wagon, and go to her aid.

  He would take her to a beautiful place where she could live in peace and forget the horrible events of the past few days. Inspired by these thoughts, he shook the hand of his brother-in-law, bade him farewell, and hurried back to his house with renewed vigor.

  “Pack some clothes for Marie and tell Holdwin to hitch up the wagon,” he
called to Wina who, looking pale and terrified, had received him at the door. He was halfway up the stairs when he noticed that the housekeeper was still standing stiffly in the entryway.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “The counselor. He’s upstairs,” she whispered, as if afraid Rupert might hear her.

  Matthis Schärer’s face turned crimson. His hatred for the man who had destroyed his daughter’s life made him so angry that his world seemed to spin, and he gasped for breath. Lowering his head, he stomped up the stairs and saw Linhard ducking into the living room. Matthis ran over and stormed into the same room where less than twenty-four hours ago he had been celebrating the marriage contract with Rupert and his guests. Here he found Utz Käffli and the counselor sitting at his desk, drinking his wine from his silver cups. Linhard, looking like the very personification of a bad conscience, withdrew behind the back of the carriage driver, as if hoping for protection.

  Rupert lay sprawled out in Matthis’s favorite chair, sneering at him.

  Schärer shook his fists. “What are you doing in my house? I won’t tolerate a scoundrel like you here. Go! Get out! And take this scum along with you.”

  Picking up a piece of parchment from the table, the counselor handed it to Matthis calmly. “In your house? Since I expected a large dowry and a considerable inheritance from my marriage with your daughter, the bishop’s court in Constance awarded me all your possessions for the offense I have endured because of you and your daughter, and also, of course, for the loss of the future inheritance. Tone your voice down, since you are now a guest in my house.”