then slapped his friend in the face.
Only with the barrage of Italian Angelino emitted did the Brothers notice they had spoken in German before. Barousse’s entire face turned the color of his reddening cheek and he swelled up to smite the smaller man, who shouted and shook an accusatory finger in Barousse’s face. Rodrigo recognized the dire turn and, seizing Angelino, dragged him back. Hegel knew better than to touch the trembling captain, instead stepping in his line of sight and offering him a bottle.
“Nuthin a drink won’t fix,” Hegel announced. “Why’s it you two was talkin proper and switched to Papal, eh?”
Barousse let out the breath he had bottled since being hit and focused on Hegel, snatching the wine from him. Angelino had thrown off Rodrigo and now dressed down the younger fellow, punctuating his rant with gestures at Hegel and the captain. Barousse guzzled the entire bottle, red spilling down his beard onto his boots. Then he dropped the wine, pushed aside Hegel, then Rodrigo, and threw his arms around Angelino, crying like a fresh orphan. Rodrigo hurried over to Hegel and walked him to the narrow window overlooking the garden, which they both found intensely interesting while Barousse blubbered and snotted all over Angelino’s shoulder, the older man’s fury gone as quickly as the captain’s.
Hegel peered down at the lamp-lit garden and the reflecting pool where he and his brother had clandestinely practiced swimming when all in the house slept. Looking back around the room, he saw Manfried lurking at the edge of the bath. Containing his own rage, he succeeded in crossing the room without arousing Barousse’s or Angelino’s attention, the two now exchanging whispered oaths.
“What’re you doin?” Hegel snarled, noting the silhouette ghosting about under the water.
“Just lookin.” Manfried would not meet his brother’s eye, clumsily stowing something in his bag.
“Keep away from there,” Angelino called to them, and all three hurried back to the altar.
“My word, my word,” Barousse mumbled, having sat on a chest.
“Course, sir.” Angelino nodded. “These lads’ll come with me now, then?”
The Grossbarts looked to the captain, who nodded but did not return their gaze. “I’ll need them back fore dawn.”
“That the chest, then?” Angelino smiled.
“Yes.” Barousse wearily stood and clapped Angelino on the arm, his good spirits returning. “It is, it is. And remember, sparse at best. Less mouths to feed.”
“On that end I’ll fit us with water and supplies and what few can be trusted for such a jaunt.”
“Angelino,” Barousse swallowed, “I intend to avenge myself on the doge, meaning we’ll be hunted if ever we return with less than an army behind us. Still in league?”
“No question,” Angelino said. “Now let’s see what you got here.”
The chest contained gold bars. Hegel and Manfried saw Mary’s Mercy shining up at them and silently gave thanks. Then they began stuffing them into the leather satchels provided by Barousse until not a speck of gold dust glittered in the empty box. Rodrigo and Angelino could not carry as much, which suited the Grossbarts perfectly. Leaving the captain to prepare, they followed Rodrigo into the chute behind the Virgin, clambering down iron bars set into the wall.
The rungs were mossy and the satchels heavy, and twice Rodrigo almost slipped but caught himself. The bath’s aqueduct emptied into the shaft, the stink of mold a familiar tonic to the Grossbarts. Angelino’s boots rained filth down on Manfried, prompting him to hurry and thus increasing the muck he dislodged upon his brother.
The sound of running water rose up around them, and then Hegel went weak in the knees when his feet found slick stones instead of a rung. Rodrigo flicked his flint, burning their eyes. Not until Manfried and Angelino reached the bottom did the wick catch, illuminating the pit.
Stone and earth bled together along the walls with only the narrow shelf they stood on evidencing the channel’s man-made nature. In the dim light the waters were black as the walls and ceiling, the path obvious as the shelf broke off a few feet downstream. Rodrigo led them along the mildew-rank outcropping, their pace sluggish to avoid slipping over the edge. Across from them smaller channels intermittently joined the main flow, fell breezes wafting along the streams.
A narrow canal emerged from the wall in front of them, dirty water pouring over their shelf. Rodrigo knelt and shone the candle up the passage, and with a sigh stepped into the stream. The rushing water came up to his knees, and he plodded up this new