no preparations to take down her tent, he shrugged reluctantly and gave his people the signal to leave.
By noon, Hiltrud’s tent stood all by itself in the meadow, the surrounding grass faded yellow and trampled down where the tents and stalls had stood. The silence was oppressive. Shortly after the church bells pealed two o’clock, a bailiff from the city appeared and gruffly asked what the two were still doing there. To Marie’s relief, he was satisfied with Hiltrud’s explanation that they would leave for Trossingen the next day with Ulrich’s wagon train.
Late in the afternoon, Peter Herbmann came by to have one last look at Marie’s slowly healing wounds, nodding his satisfaction. “Very good, my child. The welts are healing and will probably not leave any scars.” The apothecary smiled at Marie and pointed to a bundle he had brought along. “I packed a few articles of clothing for you that were in my attic. They belonged to my wife who has recently put on so much weight, she’ll probably never look at them again. But they’ll surely fit a slender girl like you.”
“Thank you, Peter. You’re a wonderful person.” Hiltrud kissed his cheek and reached for the bundle. “I’ll sew yellow harlot’s ribbons on them right away so no one can object that Marie is wearing respectable clothing.”
“Must you do that?” Marie wasn’t pleased that she’d be publicly branded a prostitute.
Hiltrud snorted angrily. “If we don’t do that, none of the wagon drivers will take us along, and if we travel alone, we’ll be the victims of every mob of men we meet. Now would you please leave us alone, Marie? I’d like to say good-bye to Peter. Take your time as it may be a while.”
Marie left the tent quietly and wandered across the deserted meadow to the road, where she sat down in her accustomed place and watched the many travelers still streaming past. For the most part they were people leaving Merzlingen, returning to their hometowns or heading to the next market. Only a few were heading into Merzlingen. Marie looked at everyone carefully, but neither her father, Uncle Mombert, nor anyone else she knew was among them.
Long after nightfall, she was still sitting at the side of the road with the cool night air stinging her legs and feet. Overwhelmed by disappointment, she couldn’t understand why her father had abandoned her. Then it occurred to her that he couldn’t know where Hiltrud had taken her. Perhaps he was looking for her down by the Rhine or had taken a road elsewhere. But sooner or later he would surely pass by.
What would happen if she went to Trossingen with Hiltrud? That city was across the Danube, and her father would never think to look for her there. On the other hand, according to everything Hiltrud and the apothecary had told her, she couldn’t stay by herself. Even though it horrified her every time Hiltrud took a client into her tent, the woman was the only person she could depend on for help. Even Peter Herbmann could do nothing more for her, as his wife ran a tight ship. Marie really had only one choice: she had to go along with Hiltrud.
Suddenly she smiled. Her situation was not really all that bad. In the course of his examination of her wounds, the apothecary had told her she’d have to wait two weeks before her body would be healed enough so that she could sleep with men. At the time, his assumption that she would become a prostitute had angered her, her anger springing perhaps from fear that she might have no choice if she was to survive. But she realized now that by then her father would certainly have found her or she would meet a merchant who could take a message to him so he’d finally know where to look for her.
Her spirits briefly raised, they were suddenly dashed again when she realized she might meet someone who had witnessed her whipping. She wasn’t sure she had the courage to approach someone from Constance, and her mood wavered between the hope of being rescued
By noon, Hiltrud’s tent stood all by itself in the meadow, the surrounding grass faded yellow and trampled down where the tents and stalls had stood. The silence was oppressive. Shortly after the church bells pealed two o’clock, a bailiff from the city appeared and gruffly asked what the two were still doing there. To Marie’s relief, he was satisfied with Hiltrud’s explanation that they would leave for Trossingen the next day with Ulrich’s wagon train.
Late in the afternoon, Peter Herbmann came by to have one last look at Marie’s slowly healing wounds, nodding his satisfaction. “Very good, my child. The welts are healing and will probably not leave any scars.” The apothecary smiled at Marie and pointed to a bundle he had brought along. “I packed a few articles of clothing for you that were in my attic. They belonged to my wife who has recently put on so much weight, she’ll probably never look at them again. But they’ll surely fit a slender girl like you.”
“Thank you, Peter. You’re a wonderful person.” Hiltrud kissed his cheek and reached for the bundle. “I’ll sew yellow harlot’s ribbons on them right away so no one can object that Marie is wearing respectable clothing.”
“Must you do that?” Marie wasn’t pleased that she’d be publicly branded a prostitute.
Hiltrud snorted angrily. “If we don’t do that, none of the wagon drivers will take us along, and if we travel alone, we’ll be the victims of every mob of men we meet. Now would you please leave us alone, Marie? I’d like to say good-bye to Peter. Take your time as it may be a while.”
Marie left the tent quietly and wandered across the deserted meadow to the road, where she sat down in her accustomed place and watched the many travelers still streaming past. For the most part they were people leaving Merzlingen, returning to their hometowns or heading to the next market. Only a few were heading into Merzlingen. Marie looked at everyone carefully, but neither her father, Uncle Mombert, nor anyone else she knew was among them.
Long after nightfall, she was still sitting at the side of the road with the cool night air stinging her legs and feet. Overwhelmed by disappointment, she couldn’t understand why her father had abandoned her. Then it occurred to her that he couldn’t know where Hiltrud had taken her. Perhaps he was looking for her down by the Rhine or had taken a road elsewhere. But sooner or later he would surely pass by.
What would happen if she went to Trossingen with Hiltrud? That city was across the Danube, and her father would never think to look for her there. On the other hand, according to everything Hiltrud and the apothecary had told her, she couldn’t stay by herself. Even though it horrified her every time Hiltrud took a client into her tent, the woman was the only person she could depend on for help. Even Peter Herbmann could do nothing more for her, as his wife ran a tight ship. Marie really had only one choice: she had to go along with Hiltrud.
Suddenly she smiled. Her situation was not really all that bad. In the course of his examination of her wounds, the apothecary had told her she’d have to wait two weeks before her body would be healed enough so that she could sleep with men. At the time, his assumption that she would become a prostitute had angered her, her anger springing perhaps from fear that she might have no choice if she was to survive. But she realized now that by then her father would certainly have found her or she would meet a merchant who could take a message to him so he’d finally know where to look for her.
Her spirits briefly raised, they were suddenly dashed again when she realized she might meet someone who had witnessed her whipping. She wasn’t sure she had the courage to approach someone from Constance, and her mood wavered between the hope of being rescued
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