The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart (44 page)

Manfried came down next, and Hegel lowered Leone until the sailors could catch him and set him in a bunk. Raphael remained
on deck securing Barousse’s arms and legs with rope after he had determined the captain lived. Binding the man’s bleeding
forearm, Raphael looked up to see Manfried and Hegel emerge with bottles under their arms. The Grossbarts advanced on Raphael
and sat on the loose rigging between him and Barousse.

“Didn’t make those too tight?” Manfried asked.

“Tight secure.” Raphael stared at the tilted bottle at Hegel’s mouth.

“But not tight enough to wring new harm out a him?” Manfried insisted.

“Mine ownself is capable adept of tie a man,” Raphael snapped.

“Tone, boy,” Hegel growled, handing him his bottle.

“Mine thanks.” Raphael tipped the bottle.

“Wise a you not usin a blade on’em,” said Manfried. “Weren’t no fault a his, and what made him that way’s dead, so’s when
he awakes he’ll be right in the brainpan again.”

Manfried could not know how wrong that statement would prove. They made no pretensions at working the ship, and had they run
aground the Grossbarts would not have known it. The three put a powerful drunk upon themselves, Hegel insisting to the others
that the worst was yet to come, for his bones told him and they never lied. On this matter, the Grossbart had the gift of
prophecy.

Al-Gassur slept in a corner, his mind reeling through subterranean oceans with his new brother and their nameless wife. Barousse
and he were now closer than kin, as wedded to one another as they were to their mutual intended. Her song bonded the three
of them eternally, and in the darkest depths with worlds of ocean above, and that mounted by worlds of earth to further block
out the light of sun and moon, Al-Gassur knew he had finally found a home where he would not be judged for his appearance.

Awoken from his dreams by shouting, Al-Gassur rolled about chortling with sleepy laughter. Having pressed an ear to the door
the previous night he knew what they were about above deck, and fully approved of the plot. The ruckus brought Rodrigo back
around as well, the young man’s head pounding and every fiber of his body sore from the involuntary sleeping posture Sir Jean’s
fist had granted him.

Blearily gaining his feet, Rodrigo demanded to know what had transpired the previous night but the Arab responded with a fairly
convincing imitation of Rodrigo’s deceased brother and Al-Gassur’s former master, Ennio. Making for the smaller man to wring
the truth from him if need be, Rodrigo startled Al-Gassur into action. The shouting above them grew louder, Rodrigo intent
on his purpose, but even with one leg his quarry eluded him.

“They’re hanging them!” Al-Gassur finally hooted as the two danced about the tiny room. “Death to the Grossbarts! Death!”

“What?” Rodrigo paused. “What does Barousse think of this?”

“Bound and beaten! Those bastards killed her and now they’ll kill him and then me!”

“The Grossbarts?” Having spent the night crumpled on the floor, Rodrigo could perhaps be forgiven for not intuiting the events
that had transpired after Sir Jean knocked him out.

“Death to the betrayers! Justice meted out for their crimes! For Six-Toed Pietro, cut down in the street! For my brother Barousse
and for our wife! Justice!” Al-Gassur closed his eyes, and Rodrigo resisted the urge to strike the former tenant of the Barousse
stable.

“Shut your mouth or you’ll wish the Grossbarts had gotten you,” Rodrigo spit, but his dramatic exit was foiled by the realization
that the door was blocked from outside. Cursing, he drew his sword and hacked at the door.

Hegel’s dreams cautioned him of what came next but when he opened his eyes and mouth to warn his brother the treacherous mate
Giuseppe had already slipped a noose around Hegel’s neck and the crippled Leone lay on the hold, a crossbow pointed in Hegel’s
face. Sir Jean had gotten a loop over Manfried’s head and Lucian’s cutlass poked the Grossbart’s belly. The Brothers exchanged
a glance but did not move, recognizing the nervousness of their captors as potentially lethal. Now that it had occurred, being
taken while asleep on the deck of the ship struck them both as being a rather embarrassing and avoidable circumstance.

Raphael lay bound and bleeding beside Barousse, the conspirators’ plan to enlist him thwarted by Sir Jean’s wrath. The knight
insisted the young man would remain loyal to the Grossbarts as an excuse to soundly beat him, and hopefully worse. The nooses
stretched over the crossbeams, but all agreed it would be better to humiliate the Brothers first.

“What’s this treachery?” Hegel demanded.

“You’re mutineers, and as captain, it’s my duty before God to see you hang,” Giuseppe breathed in Hegel’s ear. “I told Angelino
not to take on this voyage, and had he listened to his mate he would be alive and you dogs would already be dead.”

“A fine thanks for us savin your lives,” said Manfried.

Sir Jean called to Giuseppe in Italian, and the man repeated it in German: “He wants to thank you for denting his armor and
making it stink like a serf’s crack.”

Dinged and smelly though it may have been, Sir Jean had donned his armor again before sneaking upon the Grossbarts. He kicked
the rigging by Lucian’s foot and nodded down at Manfried. All four then had a short and heated debate over whether to risk
tying the Grossbarts’ hands before hoisting them. Deciding they could always shoot or stab them if they got themselves loose,
they decided on their course.

“After we cut off your heads to present to our doge we sail home!” Giuseppe announced. “With Barousse’s besides, we shall
receive a hero’s welcome, saying naught of your idiot captain’s gold.”

“You ready, brother?” Hegel asked in their secret tongue, but before Manfried could answer or act Giuseppe ran back down the
deck, jerking Hegel to his feet. Tethered by his neck and bouncing on a swollen ankle, Hegel’s hand went to his belt but all
his knives were gone. He caught sight of a scarlet sash poking out from behind the mast, and hatred mingled with his gloom.

“You snivelin twat!” Hegel gurgled. “Supposed to be with us! Supposed to help us fight Her enemies!”

“The Will of Mary will be served.” Martyn sheepishly stepped out from behind his cover. “We are but instruments of a greater
will.”

“Damn you!” Manfried elbowed Sir Jean, his elbow shooting pain up his shoulder as it connected with the knight’s armor. “You’s
goddamn heretics, all a yous!”

“The pity’s we can’t burn you!” Giuseppe yanked Hegel off the ground, the Grossbart seizing the rope with both hands to avoid
a snapped neck. Swinging around, he kicked at Giuseppe but the man hoisted him higher. Hegel’s feet futilely tried to find
purchase on the sail behind him.

“By my brother’s beard, better yous crucify us!” Manfried howled, kicking at Lucien.

“An excellent idea!” agreed Martyn, who cut loose two lengths of cord and began shimming up the mast with his good arm.

“Hey now,” Giuseppe called, “we haven’t the nails or the time.”

“Actually,” Martyn panted, pausing in his ascent, “rope will suffice, for it is God that does the slaying.”

Sir Jean asked Giuseppe what in the Hell was going on, but rather than supporting his new captain the knight cackled when
Giuseppe translated. The suggestion also calmed the condemned, so Giuseppe relented—at least for the first Grossbart. He rasied
Hegel higher, and the Grossbart eventually swung in enough that Martyn could grab him. Of course, this meant Hegel could also
grab Martyn, which he did even though it meant his life.

The noose tightened around Hegel’s throat, throttling him as he throttled Martyn. Then Hegel saw the handle of his dagger
jutting out from Martyn’s robe and he released his grip, fumbling around until he hooked an arm over the crossbeam. He glared
at the sputtering cardinal, who nearly fell from his roost.

Exchanging whispered oaths with Martyn, Hegel relented and had his arms loosely tied around the crossbeam to give the appearance
of being bound while his hands and elbows truly supported him. From here he realized the rope around his neck stretched over
the opposite crossbeam, meaning he would still be hanged if he came loose or Giuseppe tightened the tether.

On the deck, even Giuseppe had become distracted by Raphael, who had worn through his bindings on a jutting nail and tackled
Lucian. Manfried snatched hold of his noose and jumped away, pulling Sir Jean with him. The knight knew better than to release
the leashed Grossbart and was dragged forward as Manfried swung away, nearly tripping over Lucian and Raphael. Martyn stopped
halfway down the mast, Hegel’s dagger set conspicuously on the crossbeam behind the Grossbart’s left hand.

Giuseppe realized the situation had changed and yanked on Hegel’s rope with all his might, then tied it around the railing
behind him. Martyn had bound Hegel just tightly enough to appear convincing, but with the rope tugging him up toward the foremast’s
crossbeam he could not slip his arms out in time. Hegel felt the cord cut into his neck, able only to choke and pray.

Still suspended by his own rope, Manfried swung back toward the knight. Lucian and Raphael rolled beneath him, each with a
hand on the hilt of Lucian’s sword. Sir Jean accepted Manfried’s legs squarely in his chest and fell backward, but since he
held tight to the rope this caused Manfried to ascend higher into the air. Giuseppe hacked at his flailing legs but before
he found meat Leone let out a yelp and fired his crossbow.

Rodrigo had appeared by the ladder, and Leone’s bolt sailed over his shoulder. The sailor frantically began reloading while
Giuseppe charged Rodrigo, who had no idea why events were unfolding thus but drew his sword lest the incensed first mate run
him through. Sir Jean scrambled upright, lowering Manfried in the process.

“Hegel!” Manfried yelped, catching sight of Rodrigo.

Rodrigo glanced up at the crucified Grossbart and almost lost his ear for it. Giuseppe’s cutlass brushed his face but Rodrigo
parried it and backed away. The head conspirator compensated for lack of skill with ferocity, whereas Rodrigo’s lengthy training
was supplemented by little experience in the school of actual combat. The young man’s brilliant feint therefore slipped past
his rival’s blade and tagged Giuseppe’s left hand, but then Rodrigo had his scalp clipped of flesh and hair by the enraged
Giuseppe.

Lights began appearing to Hegel, legs kicking and teeth gritted. The sounds below faded and shadows filled the perimeter of
his vision, closing in around the growing specks of light. Then they were swallowed by the black tide, leaving Hegel alone
and blind.

Martyn shimmied back up the mast out of self-preservation but when he reached the crossbeam he realized what had happened
to Hegel. Getting his balance on the crossbeam, he bumped the dagger with his knee and it tumbled into the hold. Unsure what
else to do, he began untying Hegel’s arms with his only usable hand.

Raphael kneed Lucian in the groin but the sailor headbutted him, breaking the brigand’s nose for the third time in his life.
Another crotch-shot from Raphael, and Lucian released the sword and consciousness just long enough for Raphael to seize the
weapon and scramble to his feet. He booted Lucian in the face, returning the nasal favor. Half-blind from the blood and pain
radiating from his nose, he spun around for a target and found Sir Jean within range.

The knight felt his panic returning as things became less like butchering the uppity peasants comprising the Jacquerie in
his native province and more like the brutal battle at Poitiers, although there he had laid down his sword and enjoyed a comfortable
period of relaxation until his ransom was paid. Naïve though he might have been, he knew better than to expect such honorable
treatment from this lot. He released the rope, dropping the suspended Manfried onto Raphael’s shoulders. Both men fell to
the ground and Sir Jean drew the sword he had found the night before.

Rodrigo stumbled back with blood burning in one eye and dodged the next swipe of Giuseppe’s sword. By Providence they had
battled across the deck until they were near Hegel’s rope, which Giuseppe inadvertently severed when Rodrigo ducked. The rope
snapped past Giuseppe’s face and on reflex he jumped back, his knee buckling on the lip of the hold. The head conspirator
fell backward into the exposed hold and went under the brackish surface for a moment, then came up to see the unmoored Hegel
tumbling toward him. Martyn had freed Hegel’s left arm and had made enough progress with the right that when the rope went
slack Hegel slipped out of the bond and fell.

Leone’s crossbow popped again, and this time the bolt found flesh. The horrified sailor thought for a moment Rodrigo had actually
caught the arrow out of the air, but then blood poured out from either side of his hand. Rodrigo stared at the arrow skewering
his hand and wondered why it did not hurt, and suddenly it did, severely. Leone dropped the crossbow and fumbled for his dagger
when the tip of Rodrigo’s cutlass passed between his teeth and out the back of his neck, blood misting Rodrigo’s face as he
twisted his sword to free it.