Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart - By Jesse Bullington Page 0,134
the cardinal did not answer, instead cowering at the top of the mast and praying. Then Manfried saw his brother lying in the hold—face pale, body motionless. Hegel’s panting had slowed to an imperceptible wheeze, but Manfried hauled him up and over his shoulder as if he were merely too drunk to stand. Swaying back to Sir Jean and the suddenly crying Rodrigo, Manfried dumped Hegel onto the prone knight.
Hegel landed face to face with Sir Jean, and the knight removed his hands from his own mangled features to shove Hegel off of him. Ignoring Sir Jean’s pawing hands, Manfried hauled his brother higher until his limp body blocked the chevalier’s mouth, what remained of Sir Jean’s nose too full of blood to draw breath. Manfried pushed down on Hegel’s back and smothered the knight until his thrashing softened, and then Manfried stopped to allow Sir Jean a solid gasp before pressing the human pillow of Hegel back into place.
Muttering curse after curse, Manfried continued this rhythmic pumping of Hegel’s chest against the knight’s head until the action painfully wrenched Hegel away from Her Bosom and into Sir Jean’s. Hegel’s hands twitched, then flopped up to the painful bulge under his chest. The Virgin returned what man had taken, and opening his eyes, Hegel Grossbart promptly gouged out those of Sir Jean.
“A miracle,” Manfried whispered.
“A miracle,” Martyn gasped.
“Glub,” the asphyxiating Sir Jean gurgled, his eye sockets now bubbling along with his nose.
“Let’s get that off,” said Manfried. “I accept you’s shaken by Her Power, Rigo, but quit cuntin off at the eyes and help me get this noose off a him.”
Rodrigo obeyed, but with the fight won his wounds set to paining him until he could barely stand. They set Hegel against the side of the rear mast and got a bottle to his lips. On the deck lay Raphael, Lucian, and Sir Jean, all too beaten to move, and Martyn hurried down his mast to join the victors. As he approached Manfried stood and snatched his collar, hurling him to the ground between Hegel’s legs.
“You want I open’em now, or you’d rather after a rest?” Manfried asked.
“Please!” Martyn yelped.
“You accept Her,” Hegel wheezed.
“I do!”
“You accept Her Miracle?” said Hegel.
“I do!”
“I died.” Hegel blinked at his brother. “I seen Her.”
“You’s a martyr.” Manfried bowed his head.
“She brought me back,” panted Hegel.
“A true miracle!” agreed the desperate cardinal.
“Then you’s absolved.” Hegel closed his eyes, trying to remember what he had witnessed but the image had faded like a leaf in winter. “Same with the rest, brother.”
“What?” Manfried could not believe his cropped ear.
“Any who’ll accept the truth be spared,” Hegel rasped. “Save that snobby French and that schemin Seppe. They’s past mercy.”
“Even asleep you slayed Giuseppe!” In his haste to impress Martyn made a severe tactical mistake.
Manfried reminded Martyn of the divine nature of things by cuffing the cardinal.
“In death,” said Martyn, “even in death, you smote the Judas.”
“That rich one.” Hegel motioned toward Sir Jean. “Get’em out that armor and hoist’em up where he put me.”
Rodrigo had disappeared, however, leaving Manfried with little choice but to perform that particular task himself. He left his brother to drink with the cardinal and stripped Sir Jean of his battered plate. Sir Jean resisted only slightly, intent as he was on his ruined face.
Next Manfried saw to Raphael and Lucian. Both came around following a dousing from the rain barrel, but with their bloody faces he could not tell them apart until Raphael spoke in his broken German. After quickly outlining the situation to the miserable men, Manfried insisted Raphael translate for Lucian, who eagerly accepted the heavenly course of events and even tried to kiss Manfried’s feet.
“Get to Hell,” Manfried spit. “See this bastard don’t get so much’s a knife long as he’s on this boat.”
“Why not a knife for him?” Raphael asked, gingerly touching his broken nose and wincing.
“Cause he can’t be trusted!” Manfried shook his head in frustration.
“Yes, so why not a knife for him?” Raphael gestured toward his throat.
“Cause Hegel’s restored his grace and we ain’t forsaken murderers!” Manfried rapped Raphael’s brow. “Now get a move on helpin me cross that French.”
“Thanks to the Virgin!” Al-Gassur announced his presence, having had time to swallow his disappointment. “Bless Her as She blessed you and he and even I! A miracle!”
Under the pretext of helping untangle the excess rigging to lift Sir Jean, Al-Gassur went to the side of the