The Sword Brothers (3 page)

‘Not hungry,
lord?’

Adolfus cast him a sly
glance. ‘Hungry, yes, but not for food.’

‘Lord?’

Adolfus took another
sip. ‘How does a man satisfy his appetite, Artur? I will tell you.
By seizing what has been laid out before him, that is how. I have
need of your services.’

Artur did not
understand what his master was talking about but when he mentioned
his services it usually involved breaking someone’s bones or
actions in a similar vein. Artur shoved a great wedge of bread
soaked with meat juices into his mouth.

‘I am your servant,
lord.’

Adolfus smiled to
himself. It was a most curious thing how men could be bought so
easily. Artur was a perfect example: an individual who had spent
his life largely beyond the law who had fought for kings and
princes, and who had then taken to smuggling grain from Germany to
anyone who would buy it. This was illegal and punishable by the
severest penalties, largely because the authorities were fearful of
food shortages, especially in times of poor harvests. The more
grain that was exported meant less was available for home
foodstuffs, which could lead to starvation. But starving people
could also revolt and overthrow their masters, hence the ban on
exports. Artur’s activities came to the attention of Adolfus, who
recruited this most ruthless and resourceful individual rather than
having him punished. Artur was well rewarded and recruited a group
of like-minded individuals from the docks for Adolfus. And as long
as Artur and his men were paid they remained loyal, willing to
undertake any nefarious activity.

Thus it was that all
of them stood at the end of the street that contained the Wolff
bakery, their master wrapped in a black cloak with a hood to hide
his identity. The curfew bell had been rung an hour earlier and now
the streets of Lübeck were quiet and empty, the citizenry all
safely confined indoors to ensure a peaceful and crime-free
evening. The citizens were also legally required to cover or
extinguish all household fires before they went to bed as a
precaution against a general conflagration.

Adolfus, being one of
the members of the city council, was exempt from the curfew and
could travel about the city at all times. Still, he did not want to
be identified by the night watch, whose members roamed the darkened
streets in search of anyone who was abroad with no legitimate
business. So he and his men had donned black cloaks and hoods and
had made their way to the baker’s street by skulking in alleyways
and hiding in shadows. And now they had arrived at their
destination. Artur had insisted on silence during the journey but
had not informed the others of the objective of the evening’s
foray. Not that they were interested: they did as their paymaster
told them. They had brought the scullion along who was familiar
with the route and also knew the layout of the baker’s home, which
was nothing more than one room above the ground-floor space. He
also knew what they were here for and kept grinning dementedly and
nodding at Adolfus at every opportunity. The man was an imbecile
but had his uses, one of which was to gain entry to the
premises.

While Adolfus and the
others waited near the end of a street in the dark of a narrow
alleyway that provided a shortcut to an adjacent lane, the scullion
crept towards the bakery. Like most shops it was secured by means
of shutters. But the wood was often old, neglected and weather
beaten, which meant there were gaps between the shutters. So it was
now as the scullion used a knife to gouge a space that allowed him
to move aside the iron bar that secured the shutters.

After doing so he
crept back and reported his handiwork to Artur, who informed
Adolfus. The merchant could barely conceal his excitement as he
frantically waved Artur forward. His mouth began to salivate and he
felt a tingling in his groin. His breathing became heavy. The group
moved silently as the scullion scampered ahead to gently ease the
shutters up to allow the others to enter. He was told to remain
near the shop front as two of Artur’s men brought down the shutters
once more so as not to arouse suspicion. Then he led Artur to the
stairs that led to the first floor.

Artur held up a hand
when he heard some grunts, but then smiled when he realised that it
was the sound of pigs in a pen to the rear of the shop. He drew his
dagger and slowly walked up the stairs, Adolfus following and the
others trailing behind. It was pitch black and so their progress
was agonisingly slow. Artur could hear the heavy breathing of
Adolfus behind him and smiled. His master could have any whore he
wanted and yet here they were, feeling their way upstairs in the
house of a humble baker. Sometimes he preferred smuggling.

But for Adolfus this
was one of the most exciting moments of his pampered life. Paying
prostitutes to submit to his unnatural demands was at first
desirable but then became boring. But this; this was different.
Perhaps it was the prospect of having something that was beyond his
reach, notwithstanding his wealth and position. Or perhaps it was
the thought of contravening the laws of God and man and getting
away with it that was the attraction. He could hear the family’s
relaxed breathing now as he stepped into the bedchamber. The others
silently filed in behind him. His forehead was beaded with sweat
and he kept licking his lips.

‘Hurry, Artur,’ he
whispered, his lower body tingling like it was aflame. The
anticipation was unbearable.

With difficulty Artur
identified the sleeping family: the parents in a double bed and two
single beds to one side in which their children lay in slumber. The
family slept on mattresses stuffed with straw placed on wooden
planks under linen sheets and woollen blankets, their heads resting
on pillows. Artur clicked his fingers and two of his men rushed
forward to hold down Dietmar while he and another man went to the
other side of the bed to grab Agnete. It was she who opened her
eyes a split second before the blanket and sheet were ripped off
the bed and a hand was forced over her mouth.

At first she thought
it was a nightmare but then with horror realised that the frantic
struggling of her husband beside her was very real. Her linen
nightshirt was then roughly yanked up to reveal her naked body and
she too began to struggle furiously, to no avail. Adolfus ran his
hands over her body as Dietmar, a pillow over his face, wrestled
with his assailants like a man possessed. Adolfus fondled her
breasts and than placed his hand between her legs to feel her most
intimate place.

‘Hurry lord,’ hissed
Artur.

Adolfus was
frantically pulling up his tunic and grappling with his braies to
set free his hardened manhood, which even in his high state of
arousal left a lot to be desired. Then Marie screamed.

Artur turned to squint
at the figure of the young girl sat up in bed and instinctively
lashed out with his right hand, striking the girl hard with the
back of his hand and sending her sprawling onto the floor. Adolfus
grunted with satisfaction as Artur turned back to the bed and
grabbed Agnete’s right leg and pulled it towards him as the man
behind the bed who was holding her left arm and had his other hand
over her mouth struggled to control her as she thrashed around
wildly. The men who were restraining Dietmar were also having
problems holding down the baker. Artur was beginning to regret the
whole enterprise as Adolfus threw himself on top of Agnete and
tried to force his manhood into her.

But Agnete was
possessed of the strength of a wild woman and his efforts were to
no avail. It did not matter: Adolfus groaned and released his
pent-up sexual tension. A split-second later Conrad threw himself
onto Artur’s back and began punching the man in the face. Taken
aback by this unexpected assault Artur let go of Agnete and threw
his head back, smashing it into Conrad’s nose. The boy felt intense
pain in his face and wilted but held on to his target with grim
determination.

Marie was lying on the
ground sobbing but Agnete used her free arm to gouge the eyes of
the man who continued to hold her, also biting his hand for good
measure. The man cried out in pain and released her, Agnete kicking
wildly at Adolfus who was still fiddling with his undergarments.
Artur had had enough. He reached behind him, grabbed Conrad’s hair
and then yanked the boy forward off his back, drew his dagger and
then punched Agnete hard in the face with his left fist. The blow
temporarily stunned her and stopped her struggling, before Artur’s
blade slit her throat and silenced her for good.

Adolfus stood
open-mouthed, transfixed in terror at the murder of the woman.
Artur turned to face the boy in the dimness but then heard a shriek
of pain and realised that the baker had broken free. One of his
assailants had been preoccupied watching the attempted rape of his
wife and had loosened his grip sufficiently for Dietmar to free his
arm and smash his fist into the man’s groin, causing him to
collapse to the floor in pain. He then grabbed the other man and
dragged him onto the bed, biting his ear and tearing off a great
chunk of it with his teeth. That was the cry that Artur heard.

‘Take Marie and get to
safety,’ Dietmar shouted at Conrad, who was rising to his feet,
blood pouring from his nose.

‘I will not leave you,
father,’ replied Conrad defiantly.

‘Get out now!’
screamed Dietmar.

Three of Artur’s men
were temporarily disabled and the other two had drawn their daggers
and were closing in on Dietmar, so Conrad grabbed his sister’s hand
and pulled her towards the door. And so he ran, dragging his sister
down the stairs.

‘Stop them,’ shouted
Adolfus, whose wits were returning to him.

‘You two,’ Artur
hissed at his two remaining men, ‘go and get them.’

Dietmar flew at him as
the two men followed the boy and his sister down the stairs.
Adolfus was like a mouse trapped by a cat – totally helpless and
useless – but Artur’s mind kept working despite the exceptional
circumstances. He had seen rape and murder many times, had carried
them out himself, and thus was thinking ahead. This is what his
master paid him for. He saw Dietmar’s lunge, moved aside and then
hit the baker hard on the side of the head with the hilt of his
dagger. As Dietmar crashed to the floor Artur hit him two more
times with the blunt end of the dagger, knocking him unconscious.
He slipped the weapon back in its sheath and looked around. What a
mess.

His other men were now
struggling to their feet as he roughly grabbed Adolfus’ sleeve.

‘Time to go,
lord.’

‘What about her?’ he
stammered.

‘She won’t be going
anywhere.’ Artur turned to his men. ‘Bring the baker.’

One of the men was
rubbing his groin, still in pain. ‘Why? He’s unconscious.’

‘Because we need him,’
hissed Artur, ‘now do it.’

It had been like a bad
dream to Conrad as he bounded down the stairs holding the arm of
his sobbing sister. As he raced towards the closed shutters he ran
into a man squatting by them, knocking him over. Despite the pain
in his nose and his wailing sister he still managed to direct a
punch at the individual, who curled up into a ball and begged for
mercy. Conrad pulled up the shutters and ran into the night,
pulling his sister after him.

‘Run, Marie,’ he
shouted, the two of them bounding up the street as fast as their
young legs could carry them.

He had no idea where
he was heading or what he was going to do, only that he must carry
out his father’s orders.

‘Come here!’

He turned to see two
dark shapes exit his father’s premises and knew that they were
being chased.

‘Don’t look back,’ he
told his sister as he increased his speed and tightened the grip on
Marie’s arm.

They darted into an
alleyway and ran along its deserted course, the cool earth beneath
their bare feet. Occasionally they would step into something
unpleasant but the fear of being caught by their pursuers blotted
all other thoughts out of their minds. They entered the adjacent
street and Conrad saw glimpses of light from windows and heard
laughter coming from inside homes. On they went, not daring to look
back at those who were chasing them. Marie had stopped crying now,
the only sound Conrad heard being her heavy breathing as she
struggled to keep up with him.

It seemed like hours
but was probably a few minutes when they ran into the square that
fronted the city’s magnificent cathedral, its two spires dwarfing
the two youngsters as they headed for the building’s twin doors.
The cobbles beneath Conrad’s feet felt hard and cold as he pulled
his sister towards the entrance to God’s house. Here they would
find sanctuary from their pursuers. Conrad could see the large
wooden doors ahead as he increased his pace and then tripped over
as Marie stumbled.

His sister squealed as
she sprawled onto the cobbles and Conrad grazed his knee as he
fell. He tried to get up but was kicked back down by one of the men
who had been pursuing them.

‘You are coming with
us, you little bastards.’

The other man grabbed
his hair and yanked him up, then twisted his arm behind his back as
the other fellow pulled his sister to her feet. Marie began to sob
uncontrollably as the man holding Conrad’s arm pushed the youth
away from the cathedral entrance.

‘What is going on
here?’

Conrad felt the grip
on his arm loosen slightly and he turned his head to see two
individuals a few feet away, both of them wearing white sleeveless
surcoats bearing a motif of a red cross above a red sword, the
white cloaks around their shoulders carrying the same symbol.
Conrad also saw that their arms and legs were encased in chainmail
and they wore mail coifs on their heads. Both men had neatly
trimmed beards and moustaches.