had conspired against her, but she knew that if she took the veil, she would suffer the contempt of the noble nuns and would be punished for sins she had never committed. Worse, perjury was a deadly sin for which she didn’t wish to atone. No, she was not ready to do that.
She looked at the judge and shook her head resolutely. Honorius von Rottlingen was visibly annoyed. “Since this hussy is stubborn and denies her guilt, she shall suffer the worst possible penalty.”
He consulted briefly with his bailiffs, then rose and looked down at Marie.
“Marie Schärer, you are sentenced to thirty lashes with branches and eternal banishment from the city of Constance and its surroundings for having deceived the esteemed Counselor Rupert Splendidus and entered a marriage contract under pretense of being an honorable virgin as well as for slandering upstanding citizens.” The judge was preparing to rise and conclude the session, when Counselor Rupert asked permission to speak.
“Excuse me, Venerable Father, for presenting one last request. None of your bailiffs should whip the whore. In my experience, most men deal more leniently with such a beautiful woman. I suggest that bailiff Hunold carry out the punishment. He will certainly not be merciful.”
“No, he won’t. Not after she accused him of this disgraceful crime,” replied the judge, raising his hand to demand the attention of those present. “The judgment will be carried out today. Take the hussy to the marketplace and have the bailiff Hunold carry out the punishment. After that, two bailiffs of this court are to escort her out of Constance.”
Marie could feel the last of her strength ebbing away. With a satisfied grin, Hunold approached, seized the rope with which he had twice dragged her through the city, and yanked it so hard, she fell to the ground.
“It won’t do you any good to throw yourself at my feet and beg me to spare you,” he sneered at her. “You should have thought of that before.”
VII.
The day of Marie’s court appearance was also market day in Constance. Farmers from the surrounding area had been streaming into the city since early morning with their vegetables, poultry, lambs, and pigs. By late morning, most of their goods had sold, and the farmers began taking down their stalls. Suddenly the hectic activity stopped. Even the city residents who had been running anxiously from stand to stand as if time were running out grabbed hold of their fully packed shopping baskets and stared openmouthed at the old granary.
Three court bailiffs stood there with scepters decorated with ribbons as a sign of their office. The visitors in the marketplace crowded closer, asking one another what was going on, but no one had an answer. An offender’s punishment was usually announced days in advance by the town criers.
The spectators didn’t need to wait long, as another court bailiff appeared soon after and politely asked the spectators to make room for the venerable judge Honorius von Rottlingen and his retinue. A passage quickly opened through the growing crowd for the monks coming up the hill from the monastery to walk toward the pillory’s platform.
The judge, his bailiffs, and the secretary were met by expectant whispers and were followed by Counselor Rupert and his witnesses. Attracting the most attention, however, was Hunold who was pulling Marie along behind him like a calf on a rope. Two other men in the procession came several steps behind, barely capturing any notice. They were Mombert Flühi and Marie’s father, who was leaning heavily on his brother-in-law and continually shaking his head.
As the judge and his retinue took their seats, Hunold dragged Marie to the pillory, a pole with iron fittings that had been anchored deep in the ground to resist even the rage of strong men. Blackened with time, the wood had become as smooth as polished stone from the bodies of the condemned who had writhed in pain there. Hunold pushed Marie toward