Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart - By Jesse Bullington Page 0,118

and Hegel both,” Manfried replied.

“I know that.” Barousse’s voice rose. “I mean the men I hired to keep my manse, those that would make up our crew onboard Angelino’s.”

“Mine ownself,” the guard put in, “being Raphael.”

“Who else?” said Barousse.

“Mine ownself alone,” Raphael responded, clearly struggling with his German.

“Shitfire and brimstone.” Barousse rubbed his blackened brow with blistered fingers.

“There be also mine, eh, the,” Raphael mumbled something in a tongue none present save Sir Jean understood, then brightened, “the hostage! Still I maintain hostage.”

“The knight?” Barousse squinted in the blackness, then switched to Italian: “You’re still with us, eh Jean?”

“Sir Jean,” the knight shot back.

“We don’t need any witnesses,” said Barousse. “Raphael, slit his throat.”

“Wait!” Sir Jean yelped.

“Wait,” Barousse allowed.

“Hurry,” Hegel added in German, starting up the ladder.

“While our plan has heretofore been flawless,” Sir Jean stalled, “murdering me might foil it.”

“How’s that?” Barousse drew his cutlass and made toward the sound of Sir Jean’s voice.

“If my body is found down here, or washes out in the canals, what then? They’ll know people escaped the fire!” Sir Jean smiled at his own wisdom. “And if you are discovered after we leave here, there’s still my priceless value as ransom.”

“Shall mine ownself slay him open?” Raphael asked in German from behind the knight.

“Nah,” Barousse whimsically decided. “Can always do him later. Don’t see how we’re going to get anyone to pay a priceless ransom, though. Up, then, all of you.”

Hegel had chased off the dogs lurking at the mouth of the pit, taking his usual obscene pleasure in bashing one’s snout with his pick. The barking bounced down the alleys but in contrast to the quiet of the previous night the entire city reverberated with noise. Manfried came next, sliding in the fish-mire in front of Rodrigo. The rest followed, with the woman coming last after Barousse. Hegel had advanced to where their alley crossed another but found no trace of the dead street urchins. Leaning against the wall, he saw the setting sun alone did not light their way, a distant glow implying Barousse’s house still burned.

The alleys were desolate save for a few drunken beggars, whom Barousse ruthlessly ordered put to the sword. Manfried and Hegel laughed at Sir Jean’s offer to assist, instead taking the duty upon themselves with aplomb. Al-Gassur recognized one of the victims as a swindling chum of his named Six-Toed Pietro, and his dislike of the Grossbarts shifted to outright hatred. The Arab attempted to make his escape of their vile company but they set him back on course with a series of kicks, and he cursed himself for rebinding his leg in the subterranean passage. The yelling of the murdered sots drew no attention, and they arrived at the back of the tavern without further incident.

Angelino ushered them into the back room and through it, the blind barkeep the only other man present. The party fractured and rejoined beside the hearth, dragging chairs and wringing their clothes. The blind man could not leave his bar before the Grossbarts descended, liberating him of cup after cup of ale. While the old man’s face sagged he did not protest when they rolled a barrel out from behind the bar.

Angelino grinned at Barousse. “What’ve you wrought?”

“Brought him the Hell he would’ve had rain down on me.” The captain smirked.

“Rain is right! A golden shower for Venezia, eh? If I didn’t know where certain things was located I’d surely compete with the throngs to snatch a few ducats for myself.”

“And did the anchor make a sound impression?”

“Anchor?”

“An anchor right on Strafalaria’s head, if my laborers constructed it proper.”

“Something to hope, to be sure, though I can’t testify to whether it struck true or not.” Angelino noticed the woman and winced. She sat on the floor with her ear to the wall beside the barred front door. “Christ.”

“You’re a good man,” Barousse whispered, squeezing Angelino’s shoulder. “We’ll be rid of her soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Angelino said, and, seeing the pain on his friend’s face, added, “Not too late, either.”

“Where’s Seppe at?” Hegel interrupted.

“On the boat,” Angelino replied, “soon as the rest of your men pull in we’ll pull out.”

“What other men?” said Manfried.

“The rest of the crew you said were coming.” Angelino cocked his head at Barousse, “What, you said more than six but less than twelve besides this lot?”

Barousse shook his head sadly. “Wasn’t wagering on all but one of my guards being stomped like grapes.”

Angelino bowed his head. “Oh Hell, Alexi, you mean we’re to sail to