XXIV. The Execution of the Grossbarts
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.
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 Heg
el 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.
The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart Page 33