Beast

by Thomas Castle

  Judas is a woman Fierro thought, watching Luis take her into his arms, smiling and drooling with laughter at her every fabrication. The little Napoleon! Fierro clenched his teeth as she lifted her hand to his shoulder and turned giddy at his words. The captain grew sick watching them dally like children and went to the pit where his boar turned on the spit. The honey balsamic reduction sizzled on the skin, popping and dripping into the flames where they released an ambrosia of infused oil. People stood around the rotisserie, praising the masterpiece held above the flame, raising Fierro with compliments. Luis came back and Gabrielle returned to Fierro’s side. The badger pelt was gone. Fierro turned to Luis and invited them closer to the roast.

  “I’ll share a secret with you both. This kill didn’t come easy. In fact, it nearly cost me my life. I set up camp and arranged my equipment when the boar barged from the forest and rammed me to the ground. As you’ve seen, it obliterated my rifle, damn that beast. I had but seconds to get to my feet, draw my knife, and ready myself for its final charge. What might have been my last, those moments my girl, were fixated on you. They say a man’s life flashes before his eyes for whom the reaper tolls. Nay. Love does.” Fierro took Gabrielle’s hand, slid back her glove at the wrist, and kissed her lips. “My life, my heart, is in debt to you. Even at the hour of my certain death, you have kept me company. Gratia.”

  “I did nothing” she replied, genuflecting.

  “My standing here today is not nothing. I have guests that still think me a hero. Now I must go suffer them, and their superfluous praises. If only they knew how susceptible I was, I would not be lauded a hero, but only the luckiest unworthy man here. I beg you adieu.” Fierro went to leave then turned back toward Luis. “And I commend you, sir, for that pelt. Small game is nothing to scoff at. Size does not dictate temperament; think of a small, cantankerous mammal. I would sooner face a buffalo than a wolverine, because though she be but little, she is fierce.” Luis nodded. Fierro turned away and fell in with company who welcomed him with cheers, pulling him to the side under their arms, striking words like match tips, igniting his ears with tribute.

  Luis bid Gabrielle farewell then disappeared into the crowd. The mayor was invited out of formality, but declined to come. Fierro assumed that Elton was chagrined over him leaving his nephew’s parley without offering the boy his regards. Or maybe he didn’t want his presence to transcend the junior. In either case, the captain was glad for the absence of the delinquent whose mouth ran like a lactating tit.

  Fierro went over to the pit where everyone hailed him with raised drinks. “Before any of you ask, I want to clear the air; that is the boar on the spit, I am the captain.” The crowd chuckled and Fierro took a drink from a passing waiter. “Now that we got past the appearances, yes, I did go alone. Yes, I was attacked and indeed feared for my life. Only fools are foolhardy.

  “Also, to tailor a long story with mischance, I am no a hero. This creature was ruled by instinct. I’m simply governed by the nature to survive. Let me tell you, a hero is made through adversary; I was a vagabond in a world that does not belong to me. I trespassed where nature reigns. Heroes conquer; I survived. A hero is far above my reach.” The crowd applauded as Fierro lifted his hand. “Now, bring me your plates. Celebrate. Dance till the tide of dawn washes your feet bleary.”

  Luis returned with the pelt girded from his shoulder to the belt of his hipbone. He took up a plate and stood at Fierro’s side as the captain distributed meat shavings. Fierro turned to Luis and laughed.

  “What is that?” Fierro asked, flicking his pelt. “Some say that I’m a prolific huntsman, but I’ve never seen anything like it. Whose head did you shave to make that, boy?” The crowd ruptured as Luis turned to and fro, trapped in a sea of faces yawning with laughter. “I don’t have the expertise to declare it one thing or another. Opinions?”

  “It’s a strap of carpet” one shouted.

  “Come now, do better than that” Fierro replied.

  “It’s the scalp of his mutt” another piped in.

  “It’s a child outgrown of its sling” a voice called. Fierro saluted the final voice and the crowd rebounded with laughter. Luis squirmed like a worm under the rain of mockery. Fierro set his hand on the boy’s back and brought him against his side.

  “It’s just a bit of fun” Fierro said as he set a glass of hard cider in his hand. Then he lifted the pelt off Luis and tossed it into the pit. “There, the boy has brought the varmint for smoking because he has forgotten the mesquite.” The crowd swelled again and Luis saw Gabrielle staring at him with eyes of pity.

  Luis looked at Fierro, the serf, the grand devil, and threw the drink back in his face. The group fell silent. The captain turned toward the boy holding the empty glass. Gabrielle stepped forward when Fierro slugged him in the nose, collapsing him with tears and a thin stream of blood buckling over his. Luis climbed to his feet as though the floor were ice and ran out of the ball.

  “You encourage him. What are you, jealous?” Gabrielle spat.

  “Hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?” Fierro said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’re a mother to all but a wife to none. Are we schoolchildren?” Fierro turned and saw all the jolly cheeks turned frown as the gleam in their eyes faded into empathy.

  “You’re not the boy I knew, Fierro. He was brave. You are just a cur.” Gabrielle disappeared into the crowd and Fierro turned back to the hog, staring into its cold eyes.

  Luis was as dead as the beast. It was just a matter of time.

  ~ 38

  Fierro sat on the edge of the dock, pulling apart a stale loaf, when Luis shadow fell over his shoulder and grew on the side of the ship. The captain found the boy’s reflection distorted on the wake and lowered his gaze back to the bun. Luis dropped a hunting knife by Fierro's side.

  “I will trade you one lie for another” Luis said. “We found your rifle. It wasn’t real. That swine you brought back wasn’t killed the way you said it was. Maybe you shot it with another rifle, set it in the trap, and destroyed the counterfeit. Maybe you just found it dead and brought it back like you earned it. You’re a fraud.”

  “Maybe” Fierro ripped the cone off the pastry and tucked it into his mouth. “What are you bartering?”

  “I go out next time you go. I go with you. You’re going to teach me the trade. Whatever we kill together, or whatever you kill when I’m there, is accredited to me. This is what you owe me after the night at your banquet.” Fierro took the knife and ran his thumb along the blade, then stood up and faced Luis. He slapped the face of the knife against his chest, locking his eyes with the boy’s, clenching his teeth, clamping down the lips that yearned to tremble, and pushed the boy back.

  “Next time you bring a knife, boy, you better jump in that icy seawater and scrape the barnacles off my boat.” Luis dropped the knife over the dock as Fierro watched him like a hawk waiting to kill a rodent. Fierro wanted to tie his wiry frame to the bow and rake the waves with his overbite, that prairie dog. Then he wanted to build a plank from his bones and march his uncle and all his goons off it into the deep ocean blue.

  “Get the knife out of the water. My uncle, your mayor, frowns on littering.” Luis walked away as Fierro sat back on the pier, laid out the patching kit, and dipped the putty knife in a bucket tar. He plastered a sheet of asphalt and patched the crack in the side of the hull. He contemplated routing the boy into the woods, leaving him to some catastrophe, then hide the remains away until the only thing left to discover of him was sun bleached bones.

  “You must be in dire straits, capt” Willem said as he took a seat beside Fierro and helped him press the patch. “The only time you do grunt work is when you have your mind on something. I’ll flip a coin that it’s either Gabrielle or the council.”

  “There are better things to wager” Fierro replied.

  “Maybe. But I have a safe chance of winning placing my chips on love or the ninnies.”

  “Luis is tryi
ng to strong-arm me with his uncle’s influence. If he keeps moving that direction I’m going to break his arms off.”

  “And so?” Fierro set the bucket of pitch down and dipped his hands into the saltwater, rubbing them till they returned pink flesh.

  “It’s about busting his face, isn’t it?” Fierro asked. Willem nodded. Fierro let his head down and spit in the water.

  “Shouldn’t have done it, capt.”

  “If anything else, I’ll never regret how good it felt. The saps extorting me. He wants me to mentor him, to take him into the brush, kill something for him, and give him the concession.”

  “Miser.”

  “Whoreson.” Fierro stood from the dock and waved for Willem to follow. They entered the cabin where Fierro took his seat behind the desk, kicked up his boots, and uncorked a bottle of ale. He set a couple of tin cups and poured the glasses full. “This is confidential. Not a living soul, Willem, not a living soul can ever hear this. Do you understand? I was going to kill that miscreant. I was going to lead him into the woods and leave him to whatever death would find him. That arse mortifies me like nothing else.

  “But I’ve forgiven it. I had to dig down to my last atom of self-respect and just let it go. We were all young once, and I guess that also means that we were all stupid once.” Willem looked Fierro up and down. Was it a ploy to see if he could be trusted?

  “Awfully magnanimous of you, capt” Willem said, sipping the ale. “I’m sure everyone's wasted a breath promising to do the same. His own ma’ probably contemplated drowning him as a babe in the bathwater. Wouldn’t have been hard; just put him in the wash bucket and walk away to dry the linen.” The captain took his glass and walked over to the window where algae grew against the glass, filtering the light in a green hue. He turned the notch till the mineral broke off the hinge and cracked the window open.

  “A good scare would suffice. I’ll take the boy into the woods, let him have his fun, then disappear. I won’t tarry too far though; the wild only needs opportunity.”

  “And you think that will cure his psychosis?” Fierro shrugged. He wasn’t sure of anything, of his place in the town or its purpose, of Luis and his life, or if he could find in his own depth the capacity to love Gabrielle as she warranted.

  “If Luis doesn’t change, maybe I’ll change my mind about bringing him back.”

  ~ 39

  Fierro assembled a hunting kit, locked the door, and went by Luzenac’s bakery; it was the only business open before dawn. The captain looked up and down the street, finding feral cats mewling for scraps, and walked in to wait for the kid. Warm air enveloped him like the music of sirens, seducing him to stay instead of tutoring Luis, numbing his resistance.

  “Good morning!” Luzenac said as he reached over the counter and shook Fierro’s hand, leaving a resin of flower in his palm. Fierro set his sack down on the floor while Luzenac handed him a stool over the counter. The baker laid out a cutting board with bread and cheese, a slab of butter, and a half cup of juice. Luzenac slapped the towel over his shoulders, leaned against the counter on his elbow, and tapped the top with a heavy finger.

  “I know what you’re going to ask, and yes, it’s going to be damn miserable” Fierro said.

  “That’s all he’s been talking about. Private lessons from the renowned Fierro. Your favorite apprentice. He says that you see the greatness in him, and a whole lot of other crock. The boy is happier than a fox in a hen house.”

  “It just makes my stomach churn.” Fierro drew line of butter across the bread, poured rye into the juice from an old canteen, and sipped the spirits.

  “You still eat like a sailor” Luzenac laughed.

  “Speaking of it, do you have any soup I can dip this in? It’s just outstanding, Luz. I’d say you’ve outdone yourself.” The chef went to the back room where the pots clamored and a pan fell and rattled on the ground. A string of expletives said in his native tongue echoed back and Luzenac returned with a carton of steaming broth. He laid out a shallow wooden bowl, poured chestnut cream into the mix, and pushed it to the captain. Fierro took a coin purse off his waist and set it on the counter, when Luzenac pushed it back.

  “Today is on the house” Luzenac shook his head.

  “Please.”

  “No! I don’t want your coin. But you can pay me by scaring that boy into something honest. Do that and it will be good to cover this meal and the next.” Fierro raised his cup to toast Luzenac as the door opened. Luis stepped in with a duffel bag hanging on his back. He set the sack down with a heavy thud and rubbed his shoulders. Luis walked up to the men, placed his hands on the counter, and feign a spell of dyspnea.

  “This going to be a good, hard day” Luis said as he slapped Fierro on the back. “Nothing but the sweat of our brows and the laws of God to govern us. The women will just clamber to get to us when we return. Now Luzenac, fetch me a bowl of what he’s having. And a loaf too. I’m famished.”

  “We need to get going” Fierro said as he took the last scrap of bread, soaked it in the soup, and ate it.

  “But I haven’t eaten.”

  “You ran late” Fierro lifted the satchel over his shoulder and opened the door for the boy, then turned back to Luzenac. “Thank you for the meal, and the next one too.” The chef winked back at him, then took the trays to the backroom sink.

  Luis wore shorts and a pair of loafers, and all Fierro could think about was the leeches sucking on his stark white legs. He ground his jaw, anticipating a day filled with whining about the mud soaking into his shoes and sloshing between his toes. And that colossal duffel bag, what was that crazed kid carrying in it? The kill?

  “I’m going to trail you, Luis” Fierro said. “If people see us together than no one will take you seriously. You want to be seen as independent. I’ll follow close behind.”

  As Fierro checked his bag for herbs to wedge between his gum and cheek, Gale ran toward them waving his pale hand like a flag of surrender. The captain pulled the straps of his sack till the threads popped, springing around the stitching, and bit his teeth so that his feelings wouldn’t vocalize. Fierro raised his eyes with a look daring Gale to invite himself. As the man drew near Fierro saw his boots, leather plaid pants, and a small knife that danced off a strap barred across his chest. Fierro dropped the sack.

  “Gale” Fierro said.

  “I’m taking the boy” Gale said. “Sir Walden and the boy’s uncle request it. Also, I’ll require your equipment bag, since I haven’t prepped my own. That’s all, Fierro. You may go now.” Fierro looked at the boy. Luis gloated as he walked to Gale’s side. The harlot and dragon. The captain took his sack and threw it at Gale’s feet.

  “Cheers.” Fierro headed back inside the bakery. Luzenac came out with a tray of fresh baked goods to restock the shelves and found Fierro in the doorway. He brought him a stool and set out a glass of milk.

  “Couldn’t take it?” Luzenac laughed. He held up a finger, asking Fierro to hold his story, and returned with an éclair. “Give me all the details about this little rascal. How’d he spoil it?”

  “Nothing like that” Fierro replied. “The councilman’s lapdog wants his share of the prize, so the good Sir had him take my place. I’m as perk as a bird to let it happen.”

  “And do you think all will go well?”

  “Who knows.”

  “Who cares.” Fierro smiled.

  “Yeah, who cares. Whatever they asked for, I’m sure they’ll get. They are like two lungs in the same sick body, if you ask me. I’m interested to see at the end of the day what’ll come of this.”

  “And if they don’t come back? Will you search for them?” Fierro bit into the éclair and cream drizzled out the side. Luzenac handed him a cloth and refilled his glass with milk.

  “That’s an interesting thought, but no. Between politics and grudges, it wouldn’t be wise to. And tracks vanish quicker than people think. The wind blows and the leaves shift, the rains reforms the mud. Even the dew makes identifying the tra
cks nebulous.”

  “But that woman and her twins.”

  “Call me a patsy for women” Fierro winked. “Even the hardest heart is a dupe for children. But what those two dolts do, they do to themselves. My hands are clean of this.”

  “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.”

  “Now honestly, what do you think will come of this?”

  “Think or hope?” Luzenac smirked and laid out another éclair.

  “I think we have shared interests.” Fierro drained the cup of milk then put his hand over the mouth just as the baker was about to refill it. He looked Luzenac dead in the eyes.

  “How’s Hagar?”

  “In a bad way. I went to my brother. The doctor can’t figure out a cure, and the nurses are becoming scarce because they’re afraid of him.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s just not all there. And he’s sturdy, like me, as you know. I’m telling you, the baby brother I once had is quickly slipping away. He’s just not the pup I knew. And I don’t think he will ever be again.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Fierro straightened his back and locked his hands over the counter. “Nothing is harder than watching the bond between blood break away.” Luzenac grinned, took the dirtied dish, and wiped down the counter.

  “We don’t grieve the same way you people do. All that matters now is that he’s not gone yet. And when he is, we find solace that he passed. We believe in the Nordic gods, with the horn hats and axes and women and beers” he laughed. “In fact, we envy the dead. They have everything. Life is just a line. Death is the show.” Fierro tapped the counter, as though his fingers screamed amen, and held out his hand to the baker.

  “It’s always a pleasure” he shook his hand. “And I know your dispossession is different from ours, but we still practice our ways, and with that you have my condolences.” Luzenac nodded, patting his friend on the shoulder as he left, then went to the back room and wept.