Free The Wandering Harlot (The Marie Series) by Iny Lorentz Page B

deep sympathy, anger, and a certain professional interest at seeing the bloody patchwork of lashes on her back.
    Hiltrud looked at him despairingly. “I found the child at the side of the road. It didn’t seem right to leave her there, but now I don’t know what to do. If she doesn’t receive good treatment, she will die, and then I’ll have trouble with the fair supervisor.”
    She loosened the rest of the bloody robe from Marie’s back and reached for a pot of salve, but found it almost empty. Before she could spread Marie’s back with the little that was left, the apothecary reached out to stop her. “You have to use something else. I’ll go home and get some fresh ointment and bandages along with something for the fever.”
    Hiltrud breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for your help, Peter. This time I’ve taken on too much.”
    The apothecary smiled, trying to cheer her up. “I’ll be right back. In the meantime, can you make some broth? We’ll mix it with some of my herbs and give it to her to drink.”
    Hiltrud looked down at Marie skeptically. “She’s not conscious, and I don’t think we can get her to drink anything.”
    “Don’t worry, I know how to treat sick people.” He patted her hand reassuringly and hurried off. He returned shortly, carrying a basket containing a full pot of ointment, a bowl, and finely chopped herbs along with a bottle he was handling like a fragile treasure.
    “I’ve distilled this essence from various medicinal plants. It cleans the wounds and promotes the healing process,” he explained to Hiltrud as he opened the bottle and poured the strong-smelling liquid over a clean cloth. Then he knelt down and cleaned the dog bites and the bloody welts.
    The apothecary turned and looked up. “This stuff burns like fire in open wounds, but it keeps the welts from becoming even more infected. If the girl were conscious, she’d be screaming with pain now.”
    Hiltrud shuddered. “Just the smell of it burns your throat. Are you sure it won’t harm her?”
    The apothecary smiled. “It will only help. I’ll put salve on the open wounds so they can heal. By God, I’ve seen many men who’ve been whipped, but hardly any whose backs were so badly lacerated. Whoever did this to the poor child was a beast, not a human being.”
    Hiltrud watched as he tended the wounds with skillful hands. Then he turned the girl around, set her up with Hiltrud’s help, and patiently gave her the herbal broth one spoonful at a time. Though the young woman was still unconscious, she swallowed the soup like an obedient child.
    Looking at Hiltrud, the apothecary pointed at his patient’s badly swollen lower regions. “I think she’ll recover, but keep an eye on her. The child fell into the hands of real monsters.”
    Hiltrud was angry at herself for not noticing earlier that the poor girl had been not only whipped, but also raped. Often contending with lovers who didn’t care whether they inflicted pain, Hiltrud always kept a tincture in her bags that she had prepared for this kind of injury. She fetched some and poured the shimmering green liquid over the girl’s abdomen.
    “There, that should suffice for now.” The apothecary cast a seductive glance at Hiltrud and slipped his hand under her shirt. “I think I’ve earned a little reward.”
    Hiltrud looked at Marie, who was taking up more than half of the tent. “You’ll have to help me move the girl to one side to make room. And please wait a moment. I’m sweaty and would like to wash up first.”
    “Yes, do that. I like that about you. You are always so clean, whereas other women . . .” The apothecary didn’t complete his sentence, but Hiltrud understood. Many women in her line of work didn’t pay the slightest attention to their personal hygiene. She, however, cared for her body and therefore had regular customers from the well-to-do classes at every fair.
    Hiltrud filled a leather pouch with water from the river, hanging it