The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart (45 page)

Spying his mace on the deck, Manfried lunged away from Sir Jean while Raphael swung at the knight. The mercenary’s blade bounded
off Sir Jean’s plated chest and the chevalier cracked Raphael in the skull with the pommel of his sword. Raphael slumped at
Sir Jean’s feet and he delivered a vicious kick to the man’s stomach. Before he lost himself in stomping his former guard,
Sir Jean spotted Manfried dashing up the deck and gave chase.

Giuseppe saw Hegel plummeting down directly on top of him, but before he could move the Grossbart landed. Even with his soul
to Mary’s Breast, Hegel’s body tallied another mortal sin when his dead weight drove Giuseppe’s head under water and split
his skull on a submerged gold brick. The corpses of Giuseppe and the woman-thing broke Hegel’s fall better than the water
and gold bars had for Leone the previous night, and when the cold liquid coated the Grossbart’s back his lungs drew in on
reflex, his prodigious neck muscles loosening the noose. The foul nature of the air he inhaled, stagnant with the murdered
monster’s fishy musk, caused him to begin coughing and gagging. Hegel Grossbart again drew breath, but only because the physical
world so offended his dying senses.

Manfried snatched up his mace in one hand and his brother’s nearby pick in the other, and spun toward Sir Jean just as the
knight brought his sword down. The cutlass exploded when it met Manfried’s swinging mace, metal shards bouncing off Sir Jean’s
plating and embedding in Manfried’s skin. In the same motion Manfried brought the pick up between the knight’s legs, its metal
tip punching a jagged hole in Sir Jean’s codpiece and what it covered.

Drawn so close, Manfried could not dodge Sir Jean’s broken sword as it thrust at his bruised throat. Before it reached flesh
the knight curiously released the weapon and awkwardly slapped Manfried’s face, the discharged blade clipping Manfried’s uncropped
left ear and tumbling over the rail. Rodrigo’s sword had not penetrated the thick iron covering Sir Jean’s forearm but had
succeeded in both disarming the man and incensing Manfried even more.

The numbness in Sir Jean’s genitals turned to searing agony when Manfried yanked the pick out, and before he could recover
Rodrigo and Manfried had knocked him to the deck. His armor sagged inward wherever the mace struck, bruising his skin and
the organs beneath. The tip of his nose flipped off under Rodrigo’s blade, erupting blood and snot, and thus disenfranchised
of even an honorable death, he covered his face with his hands and waited for a strike to end both humiliation and life.

“Keep’em where he lies, but kill’em and you’s next,” Manfried snarled at Rodrigo, whirling to find his brother.

Martyn saw Manfried stalk around the deck calling for Hegel but the cardinal did not answer, instead cowering at the top of
the mast and praying. Then Manfried saw his brother lying in the hold—face pale, body motionless. Hegel’s panting had slowed
to an imperceptible wheeze, but Manfried hauled him up and over his shoulder as if he were merely too drunk to stand. Swaying
back to Sir Jean and the suddenly crying Rodrigo, Manfried dumped Hegel onto the prone knight.

Hegel landed face to face with Sir Jean, and the knight removed his hands from his own mangled features to shove Hegel off
of him. Ignoring Sir Jean’s pawing hands, Manfried hauled his brother higher until his limp body blocked the chevalier’s mouth,
what remained of Sir Jean’s nose too full of blood to draw breath. Manfried pushed down on Hegel’s back and smothered the
knight until his thrashing softened, and then Manfried stopped to allow Sir Jean a solid gasp before pressing the human pillow
of Hegel back into place.

Muttering curse after curse, Manfried continued this rhythmic pumping of Hegel’s chest against the knight’s head until the
action painfully wrenched Hegel away from Her Bosom and into Sir Jean’s. Hegel’s hands twitched, then flopped up to the painful
bulge under his chest. The Virgin returned what man had taken, and opening his eyes, Hegel Grossbart promptly gouged out those
of Sir Jean.

“A miracle,” Manfried whispered.

“A miracle,” Martyn gasped.

“Glub,” the asphyxiating Sir Jean gurgled, his eye sockets now bubbling along with his nose.

“Ugh,” groaned Hegel.

“A goddamn miracle!” Manfried shouted, “Praise Mary!”

“Praise,” Hegel managed. “Us.”

“Let’s get that off,” said Manfried. “I accept you’s shaken by Her Power, Rigo, but quit cuntin off at the eyes and help me
get this noose off a him.”

Rodrigo obeyed, but with the fight won his wounds set to paining him until he could barely stand. They set Hegel against the
side of the rear mast and got a bottle to his lips. On the deck lay Raphael, Lucian, and Sir Jean, all too beaten to move,
and Martyn hurried down his mast to join the victors. As he approached Manfried stood and snatched his collar, hurling him
to the ground between Hegel’s legs.

“You want I open’em now, or you’d rather after a rest?” Manfried asked.

“Please!” Martyn yelped.

“You accept Her,” Hegel wheezed.

“I do!”

“You accept Her Miracle?” said Hegel.

“I do!”

“I died.” Hegel blinked at his brother. “I seen Her.”

“You’s a martyr.” Manfried bowed his head.

“She brought me back,” panted Hegel.

“A true miracle!” agreed the desperate cardinal.

“Then you’s absolved.” Hegel closed his eyes, trying to remember what he had witnessed but the image had faded like a leaf
in winter. “Same with the rest, brother.”

“What?” Manfried could not believe his cropped ear.

“Any who’ll accept the truth be spared,” Hegel rasped. “Save that snobby French and that schemin Seppe. They’s past mercy.”

“Even asleep you slayed Giuseppe!” In his haste to impress Martyn made a severe tactical mistake.

Manfried reminded Martyn of the divine nature of things by cuffing the cardinal.

“In death,” said Martyn, “even in death, you smote the Judas.”

“That rich one.” Hegel motioned toward Sir Jean. “Get’em out that armor and hoist’em up where he put me.”

Rodrigo had disappeared, however, leaving Manfried with little choice but to perform that particular task himself. He left
his brother to drink with the cardinal and stripped Sir Jean of his battered plate. Sir Jean resisted only slightly, intent
as he was on his ruined face.

Next Manfried saw to Raphael and Lucian. Both came around following a dousing from the rain barrel, but with their bloody
faces he could not tell them apart until Raphael spoke in his broken German. After quickly outlining the situation to the
miserable men, Manfried insisted Raphael translate for Lucian, who eagerly accepted the heavenly course of events and even
tried to kiss Manfried’s feet.

“Get to Hell,” Manfried spit. “See this bastard don’t get so much’s a knife long as he’s on this boat.”

“Why not a knife for him?” Raphael asked, gingerly touching his broken nose and wincing.

“Cause he can’t be trusted!” Manfried shook his head in frustration.

“Yes, so why not a knife for him?” Raphael gestured toward his throat.

“Cause Hegel’s restored his grace and we ain’t forsaken murderers!” Manfried rapped Raphael’s brow. “Now get a move on helpin
me cross that French.”

“Thanks to the Virgin!” Al-Gassur announced his presence, having had time to swallow his disappointment. “Bless Her as She
blessed you and he and even I! A miracle!”

Under the pretext of helping untangle the excess rigging to lift Sir Jean, Al-Gassur went to the side of the forgotten Captain
Barousse. He had watched the entire event from where he lay trussed between the masts, several times serving as a stone for
men to topple over in the battle. His placid eyes and expressionless face transformed at the sight of the Arab, however, tears
brimming even as a grin split his swollen face.

After discovering Sir Jean’s jettisoning of every crust and crumb—including both of the Brother’s private food satchels from
their bunks—Manfried rooted through all the bags in the common room, and ransacked the other bunks looking for hidden cheese
or sausage. He found enough to last him a day, and again cursed their recent softness. They should have stashed extra provisions
somewhere lest this sort of idiocy transpire. Making sure none approached the ladder he took the slightest of sips from his
personal waterskin, rolling the water around in his mouth with his eyes closed. Then he filled a bucket from the beer barrel,
thanking the Virgin that had not tipped like the water.

Hegel quickly recovered enough to direct the others about, but the sunlight playing on the sails and the gentle ocean distracted
him. Raphael and Lucian used the two nooses intended for the Grossbarts on Sir Jean’s arms while Martyn attempted to administer
confession to the pain-maddened knight. Unable to decipher the nauseating sounds and loath to look upon him, Martyn hurried
through the last rites. Had Hegel noticed the cardinal’s actions he would have tossed him overboard but the Grossbart had
adopted a contemplative mood, which he thought befitting for one recently risen from the grave.

When Raphael informed Hegel of Sir Jean’s readiness for punishment the Grossbart ordered the corpses of Giuseppe and Leone
given to the sea following a thorough search of their persons for valuables. Manfried reappeared, lugging up the bucket of
beer for his brother. He noticed Al-Gassur whispering to the bound Barousse and helped his brother stand so they could hold
council with the captain.

“Another miracle,” Hegel pronounced.

“Glad you’s returned to your senses,” said Manfried.

The captain said something in Italian to Al-Gassur and both giggled, staring up at the Grossbarts.

“See now.” Hegel scowled. “None a that.”

“My brother informs me you both look ridiculous,” said Al-Gassur.

Manfried informed Al-Gassur of the prudence of silence by slapping his face until his hand stung. At the first blow Barousse
set to baying like a hound and straining at his ropes, snapping his chipped teeth at the Grossbarts. Hegel responded by pouring
wine into his biting mouth. The captain calmed at the taste, and tilted his neck to better guzzle.

Kicking the Arab toward the ladder, Manfried ordered him below. “Get Rigo to come help reinstate the captain in his quarters.”

“Barousse,” Hegel said, “you’s all right now, Captain?”

Barousse removed his lips from the bottle and spit wine in Hegel’s face.

“She’s dead,” Hegel hissed, “dead as the rest a them what’d undo us. And now we’s Gyptland-bound. Look to Mary, Captain, look
to Her!”

Barousse pissed himself, his eyes rolling back and red drool coursing between his jagged teeth. Hegel sighed, the sight of
the once-great man so reduced oddly reminding him of his formidable hunger. Manfried returned from running off the Arab, and
hearing Hegel’s stomach complain, opened his sack. They moved downwind of the captain to eat, and Lucian and Raphael went
below rather than ask the Grossbarts for a share. They soon returned, even paler than before.

“What will mine ownself eat?” said Raphael.

“Here.” Hegel tore a portion off his cheese wheel and tossed it his way. “Drink enough ale you won’t feel the pangs so.”

Sir Jean lazily dangled between the masts, and Lucian began punching his naked chest and screaming in Italian. The Grossbarts
had a laugh at this, although only his cheese prevented Raphael from becoming equally hysterical. Below deck he had tried
to get some information from Rodrigo on how they might catch fish but the man had been unwilling or incapable of speech after
hearing Raphael’s account of the previous night’s madness and the change wrought upon their captain. That Lucian and Rodrigo—the
only two people on board who knew anything about sailing and the sea—were clearly pessimistic about their lot rattled Raphael’s
nerves.

The new and terrible emotions killing a fellow human being stirred inside Rodrigo mingled with his concern for his captain,
and to escape the howls of the Arab emanating from the storeroom he eventually went above deck. His puffy eyes were ill prepared
for the radiance of the sun, and by the time they adjusted enough for him to squint and make out the deck he saw that the
joint efforts of the remaining crew had resulted in Sir Jean’s crucifixion on the crossbeam of the foremast. Ignoring the
sadistic turn events had taken, he slowly walked to where the captain lay.

The bound Barousse ignored Rodrigo, his eyes fixed on the sea. Rodrigo sat beside him on the deck, and without knowing exactly
why, laid his head on the captain’s shoulder. Closing his eyes, the young man wondered if life would ever be enjoyable again.
Then Barousse bit into his ear.

Yanking away, Rodrigo left his right earlobe in Barousse’s mouth. Clapping his good hand to the wound, Rodrigo stared at the
captain as he chewed. Rodrigo stumbled away, weeping from more than the searing pain.

Witnessing Rodrigo’s mishap and unconsciously touching his own cropped ear, Manfried called for Lucian and Raphael, and while
Rodrigo watched they unwrapped the captain’s ropes and maneuvered him to the ladder. Barousse would not or could not stand,
so they dragged him and lowered him down to the common room. From there the three men went down and Rodrigo stumbled up the
stern to Cardinal Martyn. The two men did not speak but stared behind them at the point where the emerald sea met the golden
sky.