Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart - By Jesse Bullington Page 0,123

brother’s outburst at the woman and glaring at her. She returned his stink-eye, her ruddy mouth twisted into a sneer. He made as if to strike her but she did not give him the satisfaction of even twitching her nose.

“I’s onto you,” Hegel hissed, “you damn witch.”

Quitting the platform and gaining the ladder, Hegel reeled as he suddenly pictured his brother pitching over the side of the boat with the woman in his arms. He imagined them spiraling down through the depths and could see himself distorted through the water, looking on helplessly from the ship. Then they sank past the light, and in the dark the woman began to change into something else, her skin distorting in his brother’s arms.

“You alright?” Rodrigo asked from below, and limply clinging to the ladder, Hegel vomited all over him.

Al-Gassur, Sir Jean, and Raphael laughed heartily at Rodrigo’s expense, the young man shuddering with revulsion as he waited for Hegel to descend so he could climb above deck. Rodrigo knew better than to waste fresh water, even in such unpleasant circumstances. Hegel dropped the last few feet and staggered to an unoccupied chair while Rodrigo went up.

Manfried returned from his bunk with a loaf of bread, half a cheese wheel, and three sausages. He wordlessly ripped the bread and cheese in two, handing the smaller pieces and one of the sausages to Hegel before sitting in another chair. Here the Grossbarts experienced their first taste of the monotony unique to long sea voyages. They sent the smaller sleeping sailor, the Arab, Sir Jean, and Raphael above to help sail, and two sailors soon replaced them in the room. After these two guzzled some beer and conversed in Italian, they went to the bunks. The sun set and finally the Grossbarts deigned to speak to one another.

“Where’s Martyn?” asked Hegel.

“Cardinal’s lyin in a bunk, jabberin at the wall as he’s wont.” Manfried rose and took some beer. “Think he might a gone from unorthodox to unhinged.”

After another long pause, Hegel cleared his throat. “What I said earlier—”

“Already forgotten.” The twin forces of alcohol and denial had finally convinced Manfried the impulse to murder his brother had been some variety of seasickness. The last thing he wanted was Hegel prattling his old line.

“Remember, then, and fast. I had me a vision.”

“A vision a what?” Manfried snorted. “A grain bag with an adder in it? I already seen that vision mine ownself. Ah Hell, that crumb Raphael’s got me talkin stupid now.”

“Don’t you make light a me!” Hegel lowered his voice and leaned in. “Always had somethin different, you know well’s me, Hell, you’s the one who told me it was Mary’s blessin. Well, this weren’t no feelin nor sensation nor what have, this was a damn vision. I seen it!”

“Seen what?” Manfried continued while Hegel stared at his own puke-flecked boots. “Seen what, O great oracle? Got somethin worth tellin then tell or don’t give me no grief bout visions a Mary.”

“Weren’t no vision a Mary,” Hegel snapped, “was you. You and her. Sinkin to the bottom a the sea. Worse yet, it was by your own will, jumpin overboard with her all up ons like she was a bag a riches.”

“Shut your mouth,” Manfried whispered, but Hegel would not be denied.

“And when yous went under where the sun don’t reach she started turnin into somethin else, somethin strange. What she really is under that pretty skin, I imagine.”

“What’s that mean, turnin into what she really is?”

“Witches do that, brother.” Hegel’s nausea returned. “They can hide themselves, make’em look different, make’em look like somethin a man would want, somethin a man couldn’t refuse.”

Manfried’s laughter was genuine, which made Hegel’s bile roil up even hotter as his brother laid into him. “So cause we kilt us a witchy-man up in them mountains and seen that other you’s a damn authority on’em? Maybe stead a headin south we could move up to Praha, get you work at that universalality they’s built so’s you could teach the world all bout witchery!”

“Listen.” Hegel choked his stomach back down his throat where it belonged. “Listen.”

“I’s listenin, you just keep sayin listen, listen.” Manfried smiled.

“No you ain’t, you’s doin what you always do and makin fun a me, when I’s tryin to save your soul and your skin besides.” Hegel wanted to strike his brother, to tie Manfried down and make his condescending eyes see the same vision that had burned Hegel’s brain.

“All right, brother, calm your damn self, I’s listenin,”