slit my throat? Think I’d turn over my loyal men rather than fight it out?”
“Captain, I—” Rodrigo stared at the floor.
“Out, Grossbarts, and take the priest!” Barousse shouted, but when they reached the door he added, “Come armed to my room around Vespers, we’ll work on our stratagem then. For now, I have a mutiny to quell.” He turned back to Rodrigo but to the young man’s relief the captain’s fury had dissipated, leaving a mischievous grin in its wake.
The Grossbarts could easily have carried Martyn but instead each held an arm and let his legs drag—all the better to upend several small tables. He frothed and groaned the entire way up the stairs and, lacking a third unlocked room to dump him in, they slung him onto Hegel’s floor. Shouting until the servant girl Marguerite arrived, they enlisted her help in the transfer of Hegel’s bed into Manfried’s room rather than share the room with Martyn. Only by mutilating the frame, tearing the mat, and impressing four of Barousse’s hired muscle were they able to perform the task.
Tramping through the dark tunnel beneath the house to carry out the captain’s orders, Rodrigo again turned his thoughts to his deceased brother Ennio. With all the madness the Grossbarts had added to his life he had been left little time to reflect on his own affairs instead of Barousse’s, but with this newest catastrophic twist he again reflected on what impact the Brothers Grossbart might have had on the passing of his last living kin, and how he might have averted it had he accompanied Ennio instead of remaining behind. He resolved to visit a chapel as soon as this business was past, a single tear escaping his eye. Had he known what chaos approached he would have wept more.
Directly above Rodrigo, Al-Gassur spied on the artisans laboring in the garden. For several weeks the men had arrived at dawn and left at dusk, felling fruit trees, shaving them down, and lashing them together. Gauging by the massive boulder delivered and harnessed to one end of the contraption it neared completion, and now the men patted each other’s backs after a successful trial of winching up the stone and letting it drop again. Stranger still, the captain himself made an appearance, the cook brought out food and drink, and her husband Nestore brought oil lamps, with the clear purpose of persuading the men to work through the night. Had Al-Gassur actually seen the combat in which he claimed to have lost his leg he might have recognized the device.
Leaving Martyn to recover, the Grossbarts went to the captain’s bedchamber for the first time in the many months they had spent under his roof. It lay across the foyer from their quarters, the entire opposite wing a single chamber. Knocking on the door they received no answer but then he suddenly appeared behind them on the stairs, head high and jagged teeth shining in the light of the setting sun filtering through the windows. Unlocking the brass door, he beckoned them in.
They found themselves encaged, thick iron bars stretching from floor to ceiling in a wide box around the door. Only when Barousse had locked the door behind him did he produce another key and open the door of the cage. His room dwarfed most buildings they had entered, with a huge tub set into the right side of the floor stretching from one end of the room to the other. Stepping over the shallow aqueduct that led from the bath into the opposite wall they noticed the massive bed and table, ornate clothes strewn everywhere but inside the pool. Both recognized the shimmer of stray coins underneath the flotsam of loose clothing, and even the briny odor of the bath added to the majesty of the place.
“Can never be cautious enough,” Barousse explained, locking the cage behind them.
“Right opulent,” said Hegel.
“Yeah,” agreed Manfried, the tub immediately capturing his attention. A shadow flitted under the water without raising a ripple and he held his breath, but she did not appear.
“Fancy it, do you?” Barousse stepped in front of Manfried, obstructing his view.
“What’s that?” Manfried blinked.
“My property.” The good-natured Barousse of the doorway had vanished, replaced by his moody doppelganger.
“Course,” Manfried said, holding Barousse’s gaze. “Anyone but a fool’ll preciate what you got.”
“Appreciate or covet?” Barousse’s fiery eyebrows wedged against each other.
“Preciate, verily,” Hegel interjected. “We’s here by your grace, don’t forget.”
“Yeah, captain.” Manfried shook his head to clear it. “What warrants our