They crossed the viaduct after paying their toll to the guard in the form of a jar of honey. Althar grumbled, for he could have saved the expense had they forded the river a couple of miles downstream, but with the cart loaded down with the bears, and with Hoos in a bad way, he decided it would be best to use the bridge.
Entering the city walls, Theresa remained silent, entranced by the coming and going of people, the constant clamor, and the smell of pottage and unwashed bodies, intermingling with the stench of sheep, chickens, and mules that seemed to be wandering about with more freedom than their owners. For a moment she forgot her worries, distracted by cloth merchants, food hawkers, improvised taverns, and groups of street urchins scampering among the apple stands that festooned the great city gates. It all seemed so different and vast that for a moment she thought she had returned to her beloved Constantinople.
Althar guided the cart toward a side entrance to avoid the busy artisans’ quarter. They left the market behind them and climbed an empty alleyway until they came to a square where a web of streets converged. There they were forced to stop and make way for a procession from the abbey and then some other carts that had been waiting to continue toward the hill.
As they waited, Althar told Theresa that he knew a person in the city who would put them up. “But don’t tell Leonora,” he laughed, which took Theresa by surprise because they seemed to share everything with each other. Althar stopped the cart and told her to keep an eye on it while he made some inquiries. He made for a group of men, joking with each other around a jug of wine. After greeting them as if they were old friends, he returned looking down in the mouth. Apparently, the person he was looking for had moved to the outskirts of town. At that moment there was a crack of the whip from the cart in front of them, and they all set off again.
In the vicinity of the abbey, he turned down a narrow street, scraping the sides with the cart’s wheels, and continued along a road that led east. Gradually the houses became older and darker, and the smell of cooking and spices gave way to a persistent stench of sour wine. When they reached a dilapidated home, Althar stopped the horse. But Althar dismounted and walked up to the house opposite with a door daubed in bright colors. It wasn’t in ruins, but it certainly needed some attention. The old man walked in without knocking. He soon returned, sporting a cheerful smile.
“Come on, they’re making us some lunch,” he said.
They unloaded the bears and their baggage and made themselves comfortable in the hostelry.
11
Helga the Black proved to be a most entertaining prostitute. As soon as she recognized Althar, she stuck her tongue out at him impudently, lifted her skirt to show him her knees, and said “sweetheart, come here!” before planting a loud kiss on his cheek. Then she turned to Theresa and asked about his prissy girlfriend. She continued to jest until she noticed the wounded man with them, which caused her to immediately stop her fooling around to start fussing over Hoos as though her life, and perhaps his, too, depended on it.
While she fussed, she told Theresa her story. She had worked as a barmaid until the day she discovered that sucking off a neighbor was more lucrative than doing it to her drunkard of a husband. So as soon as he died, she sold her house and opened a tavern to earn her living. They called her “the Black” because her hair was dark as charcoal and so were her fingernails. As she spoke, she frequently burst into laughter, her smile revealing several conspicuous gaps between her teeth. Theresa noticed that the rouge on her cheeks worked hard to hide her wrinkles, but despite this, she was still an attractive woman. As she changed Hoos’s bandages, Helga asked after Althar’s wife, and Theresa understood now why the old man had told her to keep his secret.
Theresa had never dealt with prostitutes before. In Würzburg she knew none, and indeed she was surprised there should be one so close to the abbey in Fulda. When the woman had finished fussing with Hoos’s dressings, she asked Althar about the severity of his injuries. He told her what he thought and she appeared to ponder deeply before responding. Finally, she said, “The only physician here is a monk who lives in the monastery, but he only attends to the Benedictines. The rest of us are at the mercy of the dentist-barber.”
“This isn’t just any old casualty,” said Althar irritably. “He needs someone who knows what he’s doing.”
“Well, let me know how you get on, my dear. I can’t turn up with a man at the abbey gate. And you can’t just turn up either: As soon as they realize who it is, you can be sure they’ll set the dogs on you.”
Althar stroked his beard. Helga the Black was right: In the monastery there were many who thought him responsible for the death of the abbot’s son. The only option was to call for the barber.
“His name is Maurer,” said Helga. “In the morning he tends to the sick and cuts hair, but by midday he’s already in the market tavern spending every penny he’s just earned.”
Althar nodded as if he understood. Then he asked Theresa to put her things under Hoos’s bed and accompany him. Helga would look after the patient.
“We’re going to the market,” he announced with a smile. “I almost forgot we have some bears to sell.”
When they arrived at the market, they had to set up shop on its periphery, for the best spots had already been claimed. The crowds thronged around stands selling food, ceramics, tools, implements, seeds, fabrics, and basketwork. It was market day and everyone was there to shop, gossip, and chatter about the mercantile, even though the same things were sold every week.
Althar parked the cart against a wall so he would only have to guard one side from the street urchins who took every opportunity to steal from him behind his back. In the cart, he lifted the bear up into a standing position, propping the other head beside it with some sticks.
He asked Theresa if she knew how to dance. She said she didn’t, but the old man didn’t seem to care. He ordered her to climb onto the cart and shake her behind anyway she pleased. Then he took out a hunting horn and blew on it.
First a few young lads appeared to imitate Theresa’s wiggling, but soon more onlookers arrived, drawn to the unusual spectacle before them, and before long a ring of people had formed around the cart.
“I’ll swap my wife for that bear,” a toothless peasant proffered. “Her claws are just as long and sharp.”
“Sorry, but I already have a wild beast for a wife,” said Althar with a laugh.
“That creature’s a bear you say?” said another man from the back. “You can’t even see its balls.”
The crowd guffawed.
“Come closer to its jaws and yours will shrivel up, too.”
The people laughed again.
“How much for the girl?” someone else asked.
“It was the girl who killed the bear, so imagine what she could do to you.”
There was another roar of laughter.