alley, Manfried holding tight to the Arab’s shoulder, and rounding a bend they saw a house as big as a monastery looming behind a thick wall. The Arab wished another lightning flash would make their arrival even more impressive but the storm had gone. Manfried released him and whistled, Martyn clucked at the uncharitable display of wealth, and Hegel farted, trying to conceal his awe.
A large metal gate separated the massive house and its property from the alley, and through the bars they saw two figures beside a small fire. They must have heard something, quickly pointing crossbows into the darkness where the Grossbarts stood. Before Manfried could further chastise himself for trusting a known Arab one of the guards shouted, bringing five more stout individuals running from somewhere inside the walls. These men also carried crossbows, all of which soon pointed into the alley.
Several of the guards were barking in Italian and Martyn quickly stepped into the light as he responded in their language. The woman moved forward beside him but Manfried did not notice, busy as he was gripping one of the Arab’s arms while his brother held the other. In their free hands each held his favored tool, and Manfried put the question to the Arab:
“You in on this?”
“Never. No no no.” The Arab shook his head vigorously.
“Time to test his honesty,” Manfried told his brother and brazenly dragged him into the light. Not about to doubt his brother now, Hegel stepped in tandem with him, and they emerged from the darkness. The guards became even more agitated at the sight of two burly men with weapons detaining a very excited beggar and a veiled woman clad in a soaking dress.
“Fine welcome,” Hegel said, more to the men than to his brother.
“Suppose we could take our company to more accommodatin climes,” said Manfried, spitting a clod of phlegm at the guards.
The banter dried in Manfried’s mouth at the realization that, in the event this indeed proved home to the Goose, he might never see the maiden again. If it got him closer to Gyptland it could not be helped, but to be fleeced of her after all the trouble they had gone through would not be tolerated. His grip tightened on both his captive and his weapon. The Arab and Martyn went conspicuously silent but Hegel’s voice rose in direct proportion to those of the men gibbering at him in their tongue.
“I hear one a yous say
“You say my brother’s dead?” A new man stepped forward and opened the gate, his clothes clean and colorful. In one hand he held a thin sword and in the other a bottle.
“Yeah, sad to say, but he died better than he lived,” responded Hegel, put off by the man’s fancy dress but heartened by his mastery of the proper tongue. They held eye contact for a long time before the man looked away.
“Difficult to believe.” The man took a pull from his bottle, said something unintelligible, and waved his sword in front of the guards’ crossbows. They lowered their weapons and the man lowered his head, rubbing his brow. “Too much to hope Alphonse and Giacomo stopped to drink before coming here?”
“Dunno why you’d hope such worthless trash as they’d survive a ordeal what kilt a better man,” said Manfried.
“Worthless?” The man raised his head, glaring at Manfried.
“Can’t speak with equal authority on the other, but old Poncey good as gutted your brother. Al Ponce paid his price, though, and as the other’s kin a his, no water oughta be leaked on his account, neither.” Manfried crossed his arms.
“He killed Ennio?”
“Had he three blades he would a tried to plant’em in each a our backs,” Hegel explained. “Too weak to do it himself, tried to make a deal so’s we’d get ours but he wouldn’t get his.”
“Lies,” the man spit.
“Callin us liars?” Manfried stepped forward. “Us? Watch that mouth a yours, grapesipper, or I’ll put it where you can better mind it.”
With a swish of a sword the crossbows were raised and the Arab stepped behind the distracted Hegel. Ennio’s brother yelled in his language at them, his face bright red. Finishing, he panted and stared, the only noise the fire guttering in the wind. Hegel sensed things might worsen if perspective was not reestablished, and, too involved to notice what the Arab was about behind him, he shouted back at the man:
“Listen! We done what we could for your brother and if it weren’t enough that’s the Virgin’s business! But we did come all the damn way to deliver this Goose’s property, and that’s what we done, so any pigshit you wanna stir in the mix can wait til we’s compensated. My hair’s gone, priest’s been shot full a more shafts than a fair-haired whore come harvest, and we’s in no mood to explain our own righteous fuckin actions at arrowpoint, so calm your dogs! Mecky fuckin gratitude for us what killed a demon in the name a savin your brother!”
“Then get called fuckin liars for stickin the blame on the mecky sap what let the demon in!” Manfried added, nodding at his brother.
“Property… you mean…” The man spoke slowly, his burgundy cheeks fading to a pearly yellow as he finally took stock of the woman standing patiently beside them. “This is her?”
“Course she’s the one, you thick clot,” said Hegel. “Don’t think we wasted weeks comin down here just to get on your teats!”
The man said something in what the Brothers finally realized must be Italian and swayed slightly before shaking himself and straightening his shoulders. After a pause he again flicked his sword and the crossbows sagged, the men grumbling to one another. He turned and walked under the gate before sitting heavily on the ground. While he sat there cradling his head in his hands, the Grossbarts carried on in their private tongue.
“What you make a this?” Hegel asked.
“Bunch a shit.”
“Yeah, but what kind?”
“The worst sort. This one’s more a ponce than his brother,” said Manfried.
“But not so much’s Al Ponce.”
“Never should a come here.”
“Yeah, I bet you’d have other plans for that feedbag.”
“Sure turned out to be a feedbag, alright. Thanks for remindin me whose idea it was to come here!” Manfried elbowed Hegel.
“Keen on, the dandy returns.”
“Tonight you stay here,” the man said. “Clean yourselves and sleep, and tomorrow we determine exactly what you are due. Come inside with what is yours, I will see the lady to her place. I am Rodrigo, and I will have your names before you enter.” Rodrigo’s eyes drifting back to the woman, he spit an order at one of the least grungy guards, who in turn hurried around inside the gate.
“Manfried,” said Manfried.
“Hegel,” said Hegel.
“Grossbart,” they said together.
“Father Martyn,” said the priest, finally reentering the conversation now that it had calmed.
“Al-Gassur Abu-Yateem Thanni ibn Farees,” said the Arab, appearing from behind Hegel and the Grossbart-mounted schnapps cask, from which he had filched while the debate raged.
“What are you doing back, you miserable sandrat?” Rodrigo demanded, too put out to revert to the lingua Italia. “When we dismissed you onto the street instead of into a canal it was a boon circumstantial on your not returning.”
“I would never offend you or your master, and will leave as soon as payment is received for my efforts,” Al-Gassur hiccupped.
“Payment?” Hegel turned to the Arab. “You said you’s the Goose’s servant.”
“I serve him by bringing you here, just as you serve him by coming. If I am correct in comprehending your statements, dear Grossbart, if you request recompense for your toils then is it not only honest that I receive them for mine?”
“A matter to be taken up with the Goose, not us, as we ourselves will do stead a pesterin others in the same predicament,” observed Manfried.
“Away, Arab, before your presence brings my wine back to the open air.” Rodrigo flicked his fingers at Al-Gassur.
“Course,” Manfried said, “comin into
“Agreed, oh charitable masters.” Al-Gassur sneered at Rodrigo.
“What game are you at?” said Rodrigo, asking Hegel’s question for him.
Manfried shrugged. “Our business is our own.” When torn between infuriating a ponce and a beggar he would choose the ponce every time.
“He sleeps with the swine,” said Rodrigo. “The rest of you will meet with me on the morrow. Go with him, now.” Rodrigo gestured to a gaunt old man who had returned with the guard he had earlier sent off.
“Meanin we’s meetin with you
“Captain Barousse’s business is his own,” Rodrigo replied. “I will discuss the matter with him. But now a good bath for the lot of you, excluding the wretched Arab. He will wash in the garden pool under his guard’s supervision.”
“I require neither guard nor bath,” Al-Gassur protested.
“A guard is necessary to protect your odorous person from my feet, and a bath to protect my nose from yours. Now wait with Marco here.” He motioned to a horse-faced fellow of considerable size.
A nod between the Brothers signaled the end of their journey, and they strode proudly through the gate. Martyn nervously followed, having understood along with Al-Gassur the words Rodrigo had said to his men that the Grossbarts had not. While Rodrigo had claimed he would converse with the captain before enacting his plan, both priest and Arab doubted a sea captain of criminal renown would be averse to torturing his guests to discover the truth as his man suggested. Unlike Al-Gassur, Martyn had faith that when Barousse’s men came for the Brothers they would find more blood than merely that of the Grossbarts.
The guard who showed them to the door left them with the brawny but aged cook, and she led them through the kitchen and deposited them with a serving maid. The sharp-nosed girl took them through a rug-dappled hallway riddled with doors into a great open foyer, across which they saw an identical hall. To the right the massive front doors towered, and to the left an open stairway rose to midway up the wall, where it split into twin balconies. She led them to the second story, the trio doing what simple arithmetic they could. Manfried counted six guards in total, Hegel three tapestries and the dust squares where half a dozen more had hung, and
