The AltoBy Meltha
Venus
1601: London, EnglandThe next day dawned clear, though still very cold, as late November is wont to do. It was Jane who awoke her, opening the door with a loud thump that caused it to hit the wall.
"Get ye up. We've much to do afore the day is through," she called to her. "Moll hast made her way hence to the market nigh on an hour ago. She shalt be back by mid-morning. Dost wish to break yer fast?"
"Aye," Venus croaked wearily. She hadn't thought of food at all last night, but the dawn had brought back her ravenous appetite.
"Good. Martin says we are to fatten ye up somewhat. Ye'll find a loaf and a jug of milk sitting on the kitchen table. Wear yer nightdress for now, as ye have no other raiment yet," Jane said as she opened the shutters. In the bright daylight, the pockmarks that studded her face and had been hidden in the dim light the night before were thrown into startling relief. However, since well over half the people of the day had precisely the same deformity, Venus didn't have any cause to stare at her. Instead, it was the window that drew her attention.
With a small show of curiosity, Venus looked towards it, wondering if she would be able to see the street below. The leaping house's interior was like a maze, and she had no idea which way she was facing. When Jane backed away from the window, though, Venus could see nothing except for the old, weather-beaten wall of the neighboring tavern not even an arm's length away. There must have been barely enough room to open the shutters in the narrow space between the two buildings.
Venus made her way blearily downstairs and into the kitchen. She met no one else on her way, though she heard a few scrabbling sounds behind various doors. By the time she arrived in the kitchen the bread had mostly cooled, but the simple food tasted so good to her that she nearly wept, and the milk was heavenly.
She had the opportunity to look about the room better by daylight. The bathtub of the night before was still propped against the wall, the copper sides gleaming dully from the hearth fire. Smooth, gray stones lined the floor, and a good-sized oven was put into the brick fireplace. The room wasn't overly neat, but it was far less slop-filled then most of the kitchens she'd seen. This much, at least, boded well.
She had just drained the last of the milk when a pair of women entered the room: Jane and a woman she'd never seen before who regarded her with curiosity.
"Ye must be the new one as Martin's took on," said the stranger, a brunette who would have been pretty if it weren't for her sour expression. She looked a handful of years older than Venus.
"Aye, that's me," said Venus, rather suspiciously. "I'm... he's called me Venus. And who might you be?"
The other girl looked at her with a sniff, then answered. "I'm Dinah. Martin hath sent Jane and me to try to make ye into a girl."
Venus's hackles raised slightly, but she wasn't in a position to say much against them. It was far too soon to be burning bridges.
"Come now," said Jane with a friendlier smile. "I've brought a dress for ye, along with the underpinnings. Hast been corseted before?"
"Nay," said Venus dubiously. "I've not worn women's clothes these six years til last night."
Dinah rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Martin's a fool and no mistake."
"Shh, Di. Twill not do to have ye speaking so about him whilst he's within range. Ye know this," Jane said in nervous whisper. "Come, Venus, if that's what he calls ye now. Off with yer nightdress and into these."
The long drawers that fell loosely to just below her knees weren't uncomfortable. In fact, they reminded her of her old leggings that were currently smoldering in the hearth ashes. But the corset was something else entirely.
"Zounds!" she yelled, gripping her sides as the other two women each pulled on a set of laces. As they continued to tug, she saw her waist, what little there was of it, change shape before her eyes until her lungs seemed fit to burst. A torrent of most unladylike curses flooded out of her mouth, but they paid no heed. "Do ye mean to murder me?"
"Doth feel that way at first," Jane assured her, "but ye grow accustomed to it right quick. Mostly."
"The only way I could grow accustomed to the feel of this is if I had no need to draw breath!" Venus half yelled. It would have been full-throated hollering but she had no air for it. "Need it be so tight?"
"Aye," Dinah said. "Ye will not be needing overmuch more, though, for yer a skinny little thing. Too much lacing and ye'd be naught but backbone. Still, it helps to curve ye above and below a mite."
Venus took several shallow breaths, trying to catch her air and feeling like her stomach was in a vice. The bread and milk she'd gulped down so happily a few minutes ago were starting to feel like a horrible mistake as they began making war against the strange garment.
Next came a bum roll, a padded circle that tied below her waist and formed a base for the petticoats that were to be put atop it. It felt odd, and she could see for herself the effect it had: the tiny waist looked even smaller than it was compared to the sudden billow of the roll directly below it. This was quickly followed by two petticoats. They were yards and yards of off-white, cheap stuff, not highly important as far as looks went by themselves, but absolutely necessary for forming the desired silhouette. By the time they were finished with this, she could no longer see her legs, and her hips seemed to jut out at an absolutely impossible angle. Venus couldn't help thinking that if this was what men found attractive, they were fools, for women's bodies looked nothing at all like this.
Finally, a simple gown of deep blue wool was put on top of everything else. Its neckline was square and unadorned, and the buttons and lacings that held the dress together required all three sets of hands to close them. It was only second-hand and threadbare in places, and it was quite plain, but Venus managed to somehow look awkwardly charming in it. A pair of uncomplicated black slippers was put on her feet. They were slightly worn, but they were still the finest shoes she had ever owned. Venus got unsteadily to her feet, trying to balance herself on the two low heels, and nearly wound up back on the stool.
"It feels like these clothes weigh a hundred stone!" she said angrily. "How dost ye expect me to move in the likes of this?"
"Slowly," Dinah replied with a satisfied smile. "Quite slowly."
It was not, however, all that difficult for her to acclimate to her new dress. From being a pickpocket and thief in general for so long, Venus had become surprisingly graceful and light on her feet. Her long held habit of walking without a sound translated beautifully to her new apparel, making it seem as though she were gliding over the floor. The corset forced her into extremely good posture, and though she was still rather short, she made the most of what height was given to her. Still, her movements were remarkably hampered. She could no more run in this outfit than she could fly, and she could tell that standing for any length of time would prove extremely uncomfortable.
As a final touch, Jane pulled out a small wooden box and opened its hinged lid, rummaging about in its contents and pulling out various vials.
"This is the sweet coffer used by all of us," she explained as she continued to dig through the box. "Ye must learn to paint yerself, but ye must learn the way of it first."
In short order, a paste of sage was dotted across Venus's teeth to make them whiter, geranium leaves were applied to her cheeks to redden them, and a strange concoction that stung was daubed on her nose, forehead and chin to improve her complexion. Thankfully, unlike many other women of the time, powdered lead to whiten the face did not find its way into the girls' possession, unknowingly sparing them its caustic habit of engraving the faces it touched with deep pitting over time.
Venus knew, even with the lack of a mirror, that her appearance was quite good from the reactions of the other two. Jane looked pleased while Dinah had a cold look that told Venus the other woman was trying to calculate which of them was the prettier.
"Well, I've done with ye," Dinah declared. "Ye still have much to learn, but that's no concern of the likes of me. Moll will teach ye."
"Ye look comely, Venus," Jane said in a truthful tone, but there seemed a little sadness in her voice. "Ye'll find, though, that is not always what one would wish for in this place."
"Get ye gone hence, baggages," shouted Moll as she suddenly strode into the kitchen. "The new one and me needs must have conversation. Go and put a clean blanket of rushes down in the main chamber for tonight's customers."
"Aye, Moll," the two said together, and they disappeared through the doorway, leaving the newest alone with the oldest.
"Well, ye look like a female now and no mistake," Moll said approvingly. "Hast eaten?"
"Aye," she said uncomfortably. She'd spent the greater part of her life trying not to draw attention to herself, both on the streets and at the Worthshires', and to be studied so closely by so many people in a day was disconcerting.
"Tis time for me to explain a thing or two to ye," Moll said as she plopped herself down at the table.
The next hour was spent in a highly unpleasant description of what exactly Venus had gotten herself into. She learned the rules quickly. If a buyer could pay, Martin allowed no girl to turn him down. Is she became pregnant, she was to be turned out of doors as soon as anyone knew, and she was not welcome to return until the child was gone, one way or another. It turned out that the dress she was wearing had recently belonged to another prostitute who had gotten herself in just that fix about a month ago. There were a few precautions in place; Martin didn't let anyone in who looked like he might have plague or any other fatal illness, and if a customer seriously injured one of the girls, he wasn't welcome again. Venus didn't exactly feel overcome with gratitude as those safeguards seemed to be just as beneficial to Martin, one by protecting himself from disease and the other by ensuring his prostitutes were able to work. Venus was to have the week of her "uncleanness," as Moll put it, away from the buyers, and that time was to be spent earning her keep by doing the housework. The leaping house was, of course, not open for business on Sundays.
"Twill be most important for ye to remember that tis not a profession that is legal," Moll said threateningly. "Granted, the officers of the law come hither as oft as any others, but when the moral winds are blowing too strong and the people demand it, places like this can be smote down right quick. If any who isn't buyin' asks what ye do, tell him that the ladies here doth make lace and do embroidery work."
Venus stared at the woman as though she'd lost her mind. No one would believe a tale like that! She barely knew which end of a needle was sharp.
"I know, tis an unlikely story, but ye'll not tell 'em the truth, after all," Moll answered her look. "Sometimes, they'll let ye go if they've got the least excuse. Other times... well, naught to be done about the other times, so least said of 'em, the better."
Venus swallowed hard, knowing that her time in the stocks as a child might well look like a pleasant memory in comparison to what would await her if she were unlucky. Unfortunately, the swallow was a poor choice as the corset restricted her stomach so much that she wound up coughing harshly and bruising her ribs in the process.
"Now, Martin hath taken it into his head to turn ye into an entertainment of sorts," Moll explained bluntly, obviously not thinking much of the idea. "Yer to be presented in the main chamber as a kind of show to whet the appetites of the buyers for the next few weeks. Every Wednesday, he'll give ye a grand introduction, and yer to come forth, keep yer mouth closed fast, and do as yer told. On the eve of the new year, he will auction ye to the highest bidder, and ye'll take whatever man what pays for ye to yer bed, and that'll be that."
Five weeks and a few days remained between now and then, Venus thought. It felt like she'd been handed a death sentence, and she considered for a moment whether it would be better to just leave this place and try her luck on her own. A less realistic person might have walked through the door, but she knew better. There was no hope of a happy ending in her story, regardless of the path she chose. She could either die in the cold this winter, more than likely with the threat of rape always hanging over her head until her death, or she could have a place to eat and sleep, and the privilege of taking her would have a price tag on it, at least. Given the choice, she nodded her surrender to Moll's words and went back upstairs again.
The next two days passed swiftly. Venus quickly became used to the daily routine of the place. The prostitutes were usually relaxed during the day, going about the business of sewing or laundry, cleaning or cooking. There was an odd silence that reigned over them though, as if no one really wanted to talk about anything too deeply. Jane wasn't unpleasant company, although Venus had decided almost at once that Dinah could be run over by a passing carriage without it being a loss, and the feeling proved to be mutual. Shortly before sunset, Venus was sent off to her room by Moll before the evening's events began. Drifting up the staircase were sounds of raucous laughter and loud, drunken singing from the main room, which soon invaded the hallway and eventually landed in the rooms that belonged to the girls. The noises became different then. On the second night, Venus remembered to bring a large quantity of ale into her room.
On Wednesday, though, things changed. Around mid-afternoon, Jane called her into the kitchen once more where a pile of white woolen cloth was lying on the table.
"Ye quite alright, Venus?" Jane asked as she took in the clammy face and hands of the young girl. "Remember, they'll not have ye tonight, after all."
"Aye," Venus said. "But still, tis most... most..."
"Unpleasant," Jane finished for her. "Naught to be done for it, though, for the likes of us. Come now. Out of that and into this, then."
Venus began to take off her dress with the girl's help, still very awkward with the foreign lacing and buttons in odd places.
"Jane," she asked, not quite sure if she should broach the subject, "how didst ye come here?"
Jane blinked in response. No one else had ever asked her this question, not even Martin. Well, if it would get her mind off her nerves, perhaps it was for the best.
"Oh, that would be a rather boring tale, but if ye must know, I was married at fourteen to a man of six and forty in a small town to the east of here. Twas not so bad at first. He was a miller, and though he had an uncommon foul temper, he was away days and often nights as well, usually at a place such as this. When the third summer of our marriage came and we still had no child, though, he was right angry with me. Things became..." she paused for a moment as she helped pass the new dress over Venus's head, "well, twas not good. I still carry some of the markings he made upon me. Ere long I realized he meaned to kill me and marry another if he could not get a child upon me, so I left. London was where I came to, as there was nowhere else. My path ended here. Tis a common enough lot. No whore chooses her career, yet there are plenty of us about."
Venus had barely noticed the strange dress as it was put on her. Moll had seen a few engravings of Roman goddesses, but they'd been rather unspecific. The white wool was definitely much narrower than Venus's blue dress, and she wore no petticoats or corset beneath it at all. It wrapped around her like a shawl over her shoulders, coming to a low, V-shaped neckline, belted with a thin gold cord at her waist, and falling in a loose skirt to her feet, which were left bare. Jane combed her hair outwards so it was quite full around her face, then put a rather gaudy garland of red paper poppies on her head. A stronger application of the geranium leaves on her cheeks than usual brought a bright pink color to her skin, and as a finishing touch, a black beauty patch was placed at the corner or her eye, a symbol of flirtatiousness.
"There ye are, Venus," Jane said as she handed her a mirror. "What say you?"
Venus stared into the small looking glass at the strange woman in front of her. Jane had done her job very well, she thought. With an appraising eye, she decided she looked quite beautiful, though rather common and tacky at the same time, but wasn't sure if she was happy about it.
"Try to eat a bite of something," Jane encouraged her. "At least, for once, ye'll be able to swallow."
Venus looked at the stew simmering in the pot over the fire and shook her head. She might be able to get it down well enough, but there was far too good a chance of it coming straight back up again.
Just then, Martin walked into the room, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
"Ah, well, ye and Moll have done good work here," Martin said as he took in Venus. "She'll give 'em a bite of lust and no mistake. Well, will be no matter. Girl, yer to wait here until Dinah comes for ye. Ye'll stand outside the main chamber until I call, and then shall ye enter, full silent. Stand beside me, and when I'm through, yer to go back to yer room. Aye?"
"As ye say, Martin," she answered, managing to hide the quiver in her.
"Tis well ye are tractable. I'd rather not have to mar ye with beating ye into yer place. Enough. Twill see ye by and by," he said as he walked from the room, dreaming of how much gold she would make him, among other things, Jane following him out.
Venus was left alone in the kitchen, and she might as well still have been wearing a corset because her insides felt entirely squashed and her breath was coming in small gasps. She sat on one of the stools and tried to compose herself, but it felt like the room was closing in on her. The sun set, its orange rays slowly withdrawing from the room, and darkness blanketed the city, making it feel like the fire in the hearth was the last bit of safety left on earth.
"Venus, yer majesty," said Dinah mockingly from the doorway, "yer to come along now."
She got to her feet unsteadily, but she was determined not to let the other woman see the fear in her eyes. She looked at her levelly, then went down the hallway.
"Stop here, where none can see ye, and listen for when Martin calls out for ye," Dinah ordered her none too gently before disappearing back into the room.
Venus would even have been grateful for her rude company rather than being alone, but she had presence of mind to listen carefully through the din of drunken laughter and crude songs. It wasn't long before she heard Martin's voice hushing everyone.
"Friends! I've a great treat for ye all this night! We have now amongst us a most lovely beauty, a very goddess of the Thames. Come now, Venus! Out with ye!"
Taking a deep breath, Venus silently entered into the room, and her eyes quickly found Martin at the opposite side of what seemed like a mob of people. At least eighteen men were crowded into the room, and at her entrance they began to cheer drunkenly. She walked swiftly to Martin and faced them, her eyes on the floor.
"Now, now, none of that. Raise yer head so the gentlemen can see yer pretty blue eyes and yer lovely face, girl, and smile so they might wonder at yer good teeth," Martin said loudly. "Ye see, friends, if ye can believe it, this sweet morsel is untouched, pure as the fresh fallen snow! Not e'en I have taken her as yet."
Venus managed to get her head up, and looked around at what felt like an absolute throng of people. The men were lazing about the room, drinking huge tankards of ale that Martin brought in from the tavern next door. Most of them were working class sorts, mainly in their thirties and forties, none of them particularly clean or well groomed. Jane was sitting on the lap of one man who had his arm thrown around her shoulder, his hand resting blatantly on her bosom. Dinah sat imperiously on a stool next to one of the more well-to-do men, casting him dagger looks as he openly leered at Venus and ignored her.
Several other prostitutes were scattered about the room, most of them having already attracted the attention of one or another of the men, but there was something off about them. There was a false gaiety on their faces that was skin deep. Each had a smile plastered from ear to ear, laughed for little or no cause at whatever her male companion said, and behaved as though there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be. The smiles, however, did not reach their eyes, and it was not their normal tones of voice they used when they teased and flattered the greasy buyers.
She could still hear Martin blathering along, extolling her virtues, or vices as the case might be, to the assembled crowd, when Venus saw a small group of younger men at the very back corner of the room. Three of them looked very at ease, as though they had been here many times before, but the fourth was obviously uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as she was. He was perhaps no more than nineteen, dressed simply like all the rest, and had a face that, though not overly handsome, had a kind mouth. When his eyes lifted from his tankard to glance at the girl being offered for sale, their gaze met, and in that instant there was no one else in the room. She felt a burst of unfamiliar feeling, something in the room that wasn't lecherous and filthy and vile. It was strangely comforting but frightening as well, and somehow, she was sure he felt it too. Venus's heart beat faster, and she was suddenly aware of how exposed she felt once more.
"Venus, did ye not hear me?" asked Martin in a tone that suggested she had made a blunder of enormous proportions.
"I... I'm sorry, Martin. I heard ye not," she said softly, terrified that she would get into further trouble for speaking but not knowing what else to do.
"A bit overcome by all the attention, gentlemen! Ye can see I didn't lie when I spoke of her modesty," he said, throwing Venus a private look that she knew meant she had made yet another mistake. "I said that ye were to raise the hem of yer skirts and show the menfolk yer pretty knees, that they might have a glimpse at what paradise will await the fortunate one who shalt win yer company on the eve of the new year."
Venus hesitated a moment, knowing it was considered highly indecent for a woman's legs to be exposed. She'd never in her life seen so much as a bared female ankle on the street, and while a few days ago she'd worn hose and jerkin without shame, that was because no one knew she wasn't a boy. Now it was a very different matter, and somehow the last thing she wanted to do was make the young man in the back look at her that way.
A glance at Martin amended that thought. That was the second from the last thing she wanted to do. The first was to make Martin any angrier. With a trembling hand, she caught up the edge of her skirt and lifted the hem until her bare legs were exposed to the knee. Waves of rowdy cheering and whistles along with a barrage of complimentary though crude remarks flowed from the crowd. She thought she was going to die with shame.
She forced herself to look at the young man again, but found that he didn't have the same expression as the rest. Written on his face was sympathy mixed with a strange look of protectiveness and a hint of, well, awe. It was plain he found her attractive, and that, at least, was something good. She managed a small smile, and Martin grinned approvingly.
"There now, girl, ye mayest go. Now, now, good sirs! No disappointment from ye! I told ye, ye'll see her again when a week has passed," Martin said as he squired her gracelessly to the door. Jane managed to give her an encouraging smile just before she was out of sight.
Martin had given her an earful the next day for not listening to him, but she'd gotten off easy since her debut had gone almost perfectly as he wished. The men had bought quickly afterwards, and there was no doubt in his mind that they would all be back for the next showing of the Venus of the Thames, more than likely with several of their friends. There had been a few, of course, who didn't take one of the girls upstairs, though they'd still paid for their company in the main room. He'd expected as much, especially from the new young one who acted like the girls would break if he so much as breathed on them.
The next week, Venus was robed once again in her pseudo-Roman toga, and the nerves were back in full force, though they were somewhat different. She knew what waited on the other side of the door now, and she could hear the crowd was larger tonight. Still, she wondered if the young man was among them. It wasn't long before Dinah again fetched her from the kitchen and she stood outside the main room, waiting for Martin to call her.
"Gentlemen, I know right well what it is has brought ye tonight. Ye wish to catch a glimpse of our beauty! Behold, the Venus of the Thames!"
She walked into the room to the general uproar once more, and was relieved when she stood next to Martin and was able to see the same young man sitting in the back corner of the room again. He smiled at her warmly, and she returned the smile gratefully. It was like finding a port in a storm.
"Look at this perfection, this veritable queen before ye, friends! Ye've never seen the like of her. Hair of spun gold and eyes like bits of sky, skin like new milk and cheeks as pink as blossoms! Not a pockmark to be seen anywhere upon her. Come now, is she not the very goddess of love herself?"
A full-throated cheer rose from the crowd, which was almost half again as big as last week, and Venus smiled in female satisfaction at being so universally adored, especially since the young man in the corner, though he didn't carry on like the rest, seemed to agree with Martin's description of her charms.
Once more, Martin had her brazenly show her lower legs, and she found it slightly easier this time since she was expecting it, though she still had no taste for it. After the renewed acclaim at the sight of forbidden flesh, she was once more ushered out of the room and into the hall, and she stopped for a moment to catch her breath before going up to her rooms. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a gentle touch on her arm.
"I'm sorry, m'lady," said the young man, who had followed her, unnoticed, into the corridor. "I have no wish to fright thee."
"That's... I'm quite alright, thank thee, kind sir," she said, completely shocked to see him. She cast a quick look around for Martin, and the young man turned too.
"Martin is busy speaking with one of the others. He shalt be a while yet. Thou needst not fear," he said quickly. "I... I don't wish to be overbold."
Venus found herself laughing at this. "I've sold myself as a whore, sir. To be overbold is yer right, as I understand it."
A pained look crossed his face. "I'd not call thee that. I... my name is Geoffrey. Art thou truly called Venus?"
"Now, aye, tis my name," she said. "A silly one, though, that Martin hath gave me. I was once Abigail."
"Abigail," he said, his voice stretching the word. "Thou art lovely, Abigail. I have a question to put to thee, but I..." He paused, obviously gathering his courage. "Wouldst thou permit me to bid for thee on New Year's Eve? If thou sayest nay, I'll not accost thee again."
"I'd rather like that thou shouldst," she said softly, feeling oddly shy. After all, even though she had been a street urchin for years, it was still possible for her, as for any sixteen-year-old girl, to be completely smitten. "Wilt thou come again next week?"
"I'd not miss it for the wide world," he vowed. "I shalt leave thee now."
"Wait," she called as he turned to go. He was beside her again in a moment. "I... I want thee to know... what Martin spoke is truth. I am a maid."
"I'd no doubt of it when I saw thee," said Geoffrey gently. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it clumsily. "Until next week, m'lady."
At last, Venus's life had some hope in it. She would be Geoffrey's, and he would become her lover and take her from the leaping house as his mistress or his wife, of that she had no doubt. Martin was pleased to find her singing cheerily as she swept the stairs that week, though her voice was too low and throaty for his liking. Jane stared at her, but she had found sometimes it was best not to ask questions.
Wednesday came around once again, and this time Venus found herself putting on her costume with a light heart. Geoffrey would be there, and perhaps they might be able to speak again. Nothing else mattered compared to that. When Dinah called her, she smiled smugly at her as she almost eagerly awaited her cue.
Once again Martin had provided a build up to an even larger crowd than the previous week, and when Venus was called to come forth, she stood next to Martin and scanned the crowd quickly, finding Geoffrey in his customary corner. He inclined his head politely to her, and she beamed in return. The customers bellowed their approval of the pretty girl, made even more radiant this time through the happiness that suffused her.
"Have ye ever seen any to compare with this fair maiden? Is she not perfection itself?"
One old man near the middle of the room yelled loudly, "She's a right fine one, save for the locks that barely scrape her shoulder!"
Startled by the sudden insult, Venus looked straight at the man, and realized that Dinah, who was his current companion, was conspiratorially whispering in his ear as the old man's grin widened. There was no doubt who had fed the heckler his lines and that she was intending to make it worth his while that night. Dinah's lips twisted into a subtle sneer as she returned Venus's gaze, and inwardly she vowed that Dinah would be getting a thorough lesson in the street fighting she had learned at some point soon when Martin's back was turned.
Martin, meanwhile, was momentarily flustered while the group murmured as it realized the truth of the statement. Pointing out the one flaw in the girl had made it all the more obvious, and he could practically see his profits starting to fall. He needed to do something quickly before all was lost, and an idea quickly jumped into his head. In order to downplay a bad point, play up a strong one, he reasoned.
"Aye, sir, tis most true," Martin said in agreement. "But look you here. Tis to give ye all a better view of her many charms. Turn around, girl."
Venus obeyed, but was more than a little wary. She'd grown used to the usual order of things, and this was most certainly not on the normal program.
"Gentlemen, if her tresses were any longer ye'd miss the lovely view of this," Martin said as he quickly pulled her belt free, causing the wrapping of her dress to fall open. He swiftly grabbed the back of her dress, pulling it down so her back was bared to the waist for the entire room to see. The effect was exactly as Martin had hoped. They completely forgot about her hair when they saw the perfect expanse of skin before them, and the mob of men was utterly under her power again. They whooped at the sight with abandon.
Venus, on the other hand, was mortified. Hot tears stung her eyes as she stared resolutely at the dirty wall in front of her. They were disgusting, filthy beasts. Finally, she felt Martin tug the back of her dress into place, and she tied the cord at her waist firmly in place so she was covered once more before she turned back to them.
Dinah looked abashed. Her plan had backfired spectacularly, although she took grim satisfaction in the humiliation that was branded on Venus's face.
Without a word, Venus sped through the room and out into the hall, not caring whether Martin had excused her or not. She went up to her room and shook with fury through the entire night, lying awake and plotting all the various different ways she'd like to kill both Dinah and Martin.
Jane knocked on her door about sunrise.
"Come in," Venus answered, and her hoarse voice told the other girl immediately that she hadn't slept at all.
"Are ye alright, Venus?" she asked. "Ye look right haggard."
"I feel right haggard," she replied.
Jane shut the door and sat on the foot of her bed. "Look ye here. I'll speak honest to ye, though mayhaps I should not. Dinah doth hate ye mightily, and the reason is that she was once the favorite of Martin. Now, though, he dotes upon ye. She's fit to burst with jealousy and wants naught but to make ye miserable. She can be dangerous as a viper that one. There was a girl, Belinda, who she didst hate almost as much as ye, and it wasn't long afore that girl found herself handed off to a buyer who didst beat her so grievously her nose was smashed and Martin would have none of Belinda after that. She still worked, but came most cheap, so she had the worst of the lot. Last year she died of fever. What happened last night was but a bite of what she hath in store for ye if ye aren't cautious. Dost understand?"
"Aye," Venus said, taking this in. "Thank ye for the words."
"Ye heard it not from my lips. Come down to eat, then."
The following week was less relaxed than the previous one had been. Venus still carried hope in her heart, but she loathed the possibility Martin might decide on a repeat performance of last week's display. Meanwhile, Martin's coffers were overflowing with gold. Never had the leaping house been so popular. Some of the girls were taking three buyers a night one after the other, and almost all of them were there in hopes of catching a glimpse of Venus. Greedily, he decided more was in order. There were only two weeks before the bidding night, and Martin, unconscionable showman that he was, intended to make the most of them.
When Venus made her entrance that night, she had a moment of panic. Geoffrey wasn't in his usual spot. Her eyes flitted over the group of men, who were packed in so tightly she could barely make her way through them, and finally she saw him standing against a wall at the other side of the room. She took a breath of relief.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is a fortunate night that ye have all come hither!" Martin called. He decided against directly noting it was Christmas Eve in case it did anything to increase whatever piety might lurk in the hearts of those present. Normally, the brothel wouldn't even be open tonight, but he couldn't resist the flood of gold pouring in the doors. The women, though, were more than a little furious about having to work.
"A week hence this beauty shall belong to one of ye," he said happily, eyeing Venus proudly. After all, she was his. "And as a token of merriment, I shalt give ye all a present. Undo yer girdle, Venus."
She'd hoped this time he wouldn't insist on it, but she turned to the wall and began undoing the knots in her belt.
"Nay, girl! Face ye this way!"
Her mouth dropped open in shock and her eyes became enormous.
"Do as yer told, girl," he ordered more sternly, though no one but she could hear it over the tumultuous acclaim of the customers. There was a threat hanging in his words, and she couldn't see any way out.
Her fingers numbly worked the knots until they came loose. Biting her lip, she let the top of her dress fall to her waist. Nightmarish didn't begin to describe her feelings. She kept waiting for the floor to open up and swallow her whole, but the damn thing wouldn't do it. At long last, Martin gave her a small nod, and she clutched the dress against her chest and pushed her way back through the room, her anger reaching murderous proportions. She didn't stop running until she was safely in her own room with the door bolted shut.
When the knock came the next morning, she had no desire to speak to Jane. However, the door opened before she uttered a word, and it was Martin, not Jane, who was standing on the other side.
"Think not that ye've been ill-used," he told her plainly. "I saw the look in yer eyes last night, and I think I'd best remind ye that sold yet or no, yer a whore. Ye belong to me, and I can do with ye as I please. If it strikes my fancy to paint ye blue and parade ye through the center of town, I'll do so. Ye've no one to appeal to: not law, not church, not family, not friends. Ye'd best remember that and give me no cause for grief or twill go most badly for ye. I'm telling ye now what I intend so ye can make up yer mind to obey without fault when the time doth come. At yer auction, I've decided yer to be naked entirely. Ye've no choice in the matter. The sooner ye realize this, the better wilt be. I'll not have ye tryin' to buck my will, girl. Yer to be obedient, and if not, ye'll find the strap an able persuader."
Venus clenched her teeth and ground out "I do hate ye, Martin."
"Aye, girl," he said offhandedly. "As do all yer sister whores. I know this. Hate me as much as ye wish, but obey me else ye shant live long."
The door slammed resoundingly as Martin left Venus sitting up in her bed. She was still there when Jane edged into the room almost three hours later, and the other woman was greatly disturbed by what she saw. Venus was staring blankly at the door as though she'd suffered a blow to the head, and she completely ignored Jane's arrival.
"Venus? What is it, girl? What's happened to ye?" she asked with concern. As she received no answer, she slapped her soundly against her face, and the other woman slowly came around as though from a deep sleep.
"He's the devil himself, and I've become his property," she muttered. "Jane, is it common for him to strip us afore selling?"
"What? Nay, tis never done so! He'd not be such a fool as to do that," Jane said.
"He hath told me so himself. And there's," Venus's voice broke a bit, and for the only time she could remember since she'd taken to the streets, tears threatened in her eyes. "There's one who..."
"Who you'd not like to see you displayed as such, aye? There's a Geoffrey what asked about ye these ;last two weeks," Jane said plainly. She didn't approve of such things since they rarely ended well, but on very rare occasions things could possibly change. Perhaps Venus was destined for more than being another of Martin's prostitutes. If so, it would be nice to know at least one of them could escape this life.
"Please, Jane, be there any way around such a thing that ye can conceive?" asked Venus.
Jane looked thoughtful for a moment, then an idea came to her. "Martin is first a man of money. I sometimes think a coin purse doth beat in his breast. He loves gold more than reason allows, and if he can be made to see that this ploy could be against that, then he may well relent. I'll speak to him, Venus."
"And well shall I remember ye for this, Jane," Venus said seriously. "E'en if it fail, that ye didst try is more than aught else hath e'er been done for the likes of me. I'll make it up to ye some day."
"Make no promises ye canst keep," Jane said wearily. "Tis a slender hope at that, and might be best broached later. Rest or get up as ye will, for tis Christmas Day, and there's no work upon this night. Martin's greed may know no bounds, but the law can be most unforgiving this time of year to such as he."
The days passed far too swiftly for her liking, and soon the year was drawing rapidly to a close. The new century would be upon her. At long last, on the afternoon of December 31st, Jane pulled her aside for a moment.
"Tis done. Martin chose me as his companion last night, and afterwards, when he was in a good humor, I did tell him that twas not a good plan to have ye naked. Twould be entirely too much for free, I told him, and that did make his mind go round. He hath changed his mind, and ye art not to be laid bare. Tis a small thing, Venus, and may make no real nevermind, but at least yer saved of this," she said, but there was no smile in her eyes.
"I do thank ye, Jane," Venus said in relief. "Tis no small thing to me."
The day wore on, and as Venus donned her now-familiar costume, it was with great nervousness but a light heart. Geoffrey would buy her tonight, of that she was sure, and she would soon leave behind the leaping house with its groping buyers and dismal future. Jane she would see to, as she'd said. Somehow, the girl would be repaid for her kindness.
It was shortly before midnight when Martin called Venus into the room. A tense hush had fallen upon the crowd. Geoffrey was there once again, his smile reassuring her from a place that was much nearer the front of the room than usual.
"I've no need," sang forth the master of ceremonies, "to tell ye all what a rare dainty is before ye. Ye have eyes. Now, what will ye give me for the chance to be the one to first lay with Venus, the goddess of the Thames?"
Immediately Geoffrey's hand sprang into the air as he shouted "A crown!"
"Aye, a crown, good sir," Martin replied happily, pleased that the bidding had started out so high. Most of the girls went for seven or eight pennies apiece, the price of a day's work, but a crown could take a London laborer two weeks to earn. "Who shall raise the bidding?"
Several faces fell as the reality hit them that they had no chance at Venus if this was where bidding began, but others jumped into the fray.
"I do bid an angel for yon falling angel!" yelled a man seated in the middle of the room and wearing a worn green doublet, naming a coin worth two crowns, nearly a month's wages.
"Tis well, sir, well indeed," Martin called, his voice rising joyfully.
"Three crowns," Geoffrey said quickly, giving Venus a smile that comforted her as the loud booming of the crowds cheered on the bidders.
"Aye, three crowns," Martin said, his eyes starting to bulge with avarice.
"Eighteen shillings!" shouted the man in the green doublet.
"A pound!" Geoffrey shouted back, causing a gasp to be heard through the room.
Nearly two month's wages for a single night with one of Martin's prostitutes was almost unheard of. Only Dinah's debut at one pound and three crowns surpassed it. Martin was practically salivating.
"Indeed, sir, tis a most worthy amount for such a most worthy prize, but good sirs! Gaze upon her, see how perfect she doth seem, and imagine that pleasures that await ye at the top of yon staircase! Wilt not any give more than this?"
"I bid a pound and a two crowns," said the man in green, and his tone suggested that there was very little more than that in his purse.
"Aye, a pound and an angel for our Venus! What say you, good sir?" Martin asked Geoffrey, who was looking more concerned.
"For the girl, I shall give," and he quickly counted coins in his hand, "two pounds, fifteen shillings, eight pennies, and two farthings!"
The crowd took up a deafening roar, and Martin's mouth dropped open in shock. Dinah looked fit to be tied as Venus's price beat her own by far more than three shillings. Jane gave the blonde a smile and sighed softly in relief as she knew full well that there was no man on creation who would pay more than that.
"Good sir, I wager thou hast won her," Martin declared when he had found his tongue again. "Is there any here to prove me wrong?"
"I will pay five pounds in gold," spoke a man who had hitherto remained quiet in the foremost row.
Venus's face turned deathly white as the hallooing threatened to crack the windows. Five pounds! That was more money than most of the men in the room could make in a full year! The bidder was a fat, graying man in his late forties who, now that she looked at him, would have been a perfect mark for her two months ago in her pick pocketing days since as he was better dressed than anyone else in the room. He held the five coins aloft in his hand as proof of his bid, and Martin was able to tell from this close of a range that they were indeed genuine.
"Five pounds. Indeed, five pounds," said Martin thickly, his mouth having gone completely dry. "Five... five pounds. Aye. Wilt thou bet against the man, sir?"
Geoffrey was urgently arguing in low tones with a friend who sat next to him, and Venus felt as though the world were drifting away. She saw Geoffrey clap the other man on the shoulder firmly and saw a smile come to his face as he said, "Aye! Five pounds and sixteen shillings!"
Venus felt the floor under her feet again as she drew a deep breath, and Geoffrey was slapped on the back in congratulations by half a dozen other men, but his victory was short-lived.
"Ten pounds," came the firm answer from the fat, older man.
Venus stared in horror at Geoffrey, and the look that passed between them said everything. There was no more money, and even if he'd been able to gather it, the other man would have merely outbid him again. Geoffrey turned his eyes away and looked fixedly at the floor.
"Then going once, going twice, and, aye, Venus is sold to the man in the front row!" Martin yelled hoarsely, reaching out to collect the coins from the man. Venus heard nothing as the room exploded for a final time into catcalls. "There thou are, good sir. Take her along to her room now, and may thou have good pleasure of her!"
Martin grabbed the girl's hand and placed it roughly into the man's, giving her a firm swat on the backside as the room broke into raunchy laughter while the two exited the room silently.
She had no memory of going down the hallway and to the door of her room. Everything felt unreal. Reality had blown out like the final embers of a dying fire in the grate. It wasn't until the man took the wreath of poppies from her hair and looked her over from the top of her head to her bare feet as though she was a new milk cow he had just bought and was relatively pleased with that she came to herself and knew that this was terribly, sickeningly real.
"Please don't hurt me," she whispered.
With a self-satisfied smile, the man didn't say a word. He pushed open the door, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her into a slobbering kiss, making fast work of her girdle as the door slammed shut behind them.
Dawn's cold winter light poured across Venus's unmoving form the next day as she lay alone in her bed. The unknown man had departed about an hour before, never addressing a single coherent word to her. She would never see him again.
Pulling herself out of bed took a near superhuman effort. Her body ached horribly; the buyer had taken full advantage of the exorbitant sum he had paid for her. The shutter, which had been left open by chance, flapped weakly against the leaping house's outside wall in the early morning quiet. The clopping of a horse's hooves over the broken cobblestone pavement was the only sound she could hear besides the doleful breeze, weak but knife-sharp with cold, as it whistled around the corner of the building. Nothing but her stirred within or without.
The chill bit into her skin like an animal, and it was only then that she realized she was still naked. She pulled on her blue woolen dress and stirred the ashes that remained in her small grate. She nearly tripped over the remains of her white costume, and she kicked it under the bed just to be rid of the sight of it. Moll would probably insist on mending the fresh rips in the fabric so that it could be worn again or made into something else. Cloth was too expensive to be thrown away so cheaply, even though her dearest wish was to fling the thing out the window and have it borne by the winter wind to some far away place.
The sun crept slowly higher in the sky, and she found she was thirsty. Pumping water sounded like an impossible task just now, but there was no alternative. Venus made her way down the hall to the stairs, but a sound just behind her made her jump.
"Good morrow, Venus," Martin said as he leaned against the wall and looked her over. "Hast ye passed a pleasant night?"
She looked at him coldly. "Where is my share of the money I earned?"
Martin laughed loudly. "Now ye thinks like a whore! Like all of the rest, ye shalt have yer due at the end of the week. Tis most regular for the girls to have two pennies apiece, but as ye did so well, I shall let ye have a full five this once. But there are other matters to be dealt with first," he leered at her pointedly as he herded her into his own room.
Her second time proved to be no less painful than the first, though the white-hot anger she felt at the man looming over her provided a thread that kept her sane. Disgust flooded through her, and she wondered if it would always be this way or if she would eventually feel nothing at all.
It was close to noon when he at last told her to get dressed and leave. Jane was coming up the hall as she exited Martin's room, and her mouth quirked sympathetically.
"Come, Venus," she said matter of factly. "There's a crust left for ye in the kitchen. Wish ye to bathe?"
"Aye," she said tiredly.
"Fine. We'll fill the tub again once ye've eaten."
Jane spoke not at all as they lugged buckets to the kitchen, and Venus would have been glad for the lack of words if it were not for a pall she felt hanging in the air. It wasn't until the tub was filled and Jane stood with her back to her, washing dishes, that Jane spoke what was on her mind.
"Geoffrey had me last night. I think ye shouldst know," she said without turning around. "I'd no more choice in the matter than ye, so I offer no apologies."
Venus stared at the back of the other girl's head. "I don't understand."
"His friend what was with him bought me for him. He did naught but speak of ye for an hour, and ye was right. He did truly wish for ye. But in the end..." her voice drifted off and the dishes clinked softly. "They're men, Venus. No more, no less. Best learn that now than later. Don't sit in the water until yer wrinkled like a hag. Yer to work again tonight, after all."
Jane left abruptly, never once looking the other girl in the eye.
At nightfall, Venus, still wearing her blue dress, was in the main room along with the other girls for the first time. There was no shortage of admirers present, but it was still too early yet for Martin to decide what price he could get for her. She sat on a bench at one end of the room, trying to smile engagingly at all of the poor jokes that her possible customers were making, when she saw Geoffrey edging slowly into the room, obviously looking for her.
"If ye will excuse me, good sirs," Venus said quickly and walked rapidly towards him, hoping for some explanation.
"Good eve," she said in a deathly quiet tone.
"Good eve, Mistress Abigail," Geoffrey said, highly uncomfortable. "I hope ye bear no ill will against me."
"For yer inability to pay, nay. Twas not yer fault. For lying with Jane, aye, that doth strike the tinder," she hissed in an undertone.
Geoffrey blinked rapidly at this. "She hath told thee?"
"Aye. There art few secrets in a brothel. What say you?"
He seemed fascinated by a point a few inches over her head, and then suddenly blurted "I cry thee mercy! Twas not my own plan. I can pay for thee this night, perhaps. Wouldst like I do that?"
"And if tis too high, wilt take up with another whore? Dinah, mayhaps, or Lizzie or Gwen or Clara, or was Jane more to yer liking?" she spat out venomously.
"Mistress Abigail," he said, looking her straight in the eye, "I admit I like thee. Art a pretty thing, e'en if the cost is dear. I should like to have thee and no other, but I know full well my purse is small. Thou art my first choice, always."
"Speak plain, Geoffrey," she said under the cover of the noise of the room, "and think well upon thy answer. Dost love me?"
He shifted from foot to foot, then replied, "I desire thee heartily. Dost require more than that?"
She looked long into his face, feeling her heart freeze over at his words. What he felt had never been love, only lust. There was no road from Martin's door with him as escort.
"Nay, good sir. I require no more from my customers. I shall be most glad to service ye so long as Martin permits it," she answered, feeling a mask slip into place over her face.
Geoffrey's face brightened at her words, and she knew she'd given him precisely what he sought. He may not have wanted to call her a whore, but he did want to treat her as one. He was simply another one of them with prettier manners. She moved away from him to rejoin the others, the world an entirely different place.
As she casually flirted with one man after another in the room, hatred for each one of them seethed in her heart, but Venus had never been a stupid girl. If they were the enemy, they were ill prepared for her as a foe. She had been a fool, but no longer. Now, they were the fools.
Her weapons in her battle would be her beauty, her smile, her voice, her laugh, and she was well endowed with those attributes. With them, she would use their vanity, their lust, their desire to be found attractive by her against them, using them for her ends rather than they using her for theirs. What she meant to do was to get out of this place, away from Martin's ownership so she could be her own mistress, and whatever she had to do to make that a reality, she decided as she softly treaded the maze of customers, she would do it.
The change came over her swiftly. Her walk, pace by pace, became more sensuous and titillating, her laughter more and more honeyed, her expressions steadily more designed to please. If this is what they wanted, she would give it to them, and they would be the rungs of the ladder she would use to climb out of this pit. When she slept beside Geoffrey that night, she let herself feel nothing but the present of a shilling he had given her, burning like a live coal in the palm of her hand.
A.N.: The values of Elizabethan money in this section are based on the 1590s through early 1600s records found in the appendices of Shakespeare: The Complete Works, edited by G. B. Harrison. Venus's price of ten pounds would have been the equivalent of the cost of one upper class woman's gown, or roughly $600 in an age when a skilled
worker would make between $200 and $400 yearly