Martyn shimmied back up the mast out of self-preservation but when he reached the crossbeam he realized what had happened to Hegel. Getting his balance on the crossbeam, he bumped the dagger with his knee and it tumbled into the hold. Unsure what else to do, he began untying Hegel’s arms with his only usable hand.
Raphael kneed Lucian in the groin but the sailor headbutted him, breaking the brigand’s nose for the third time in his life. Another crotch-shot from Raphael, and Lucian released the sword and consciousness just long enough for Raphael to seize the weapon and scramble to his feet. He booted Lucian in the face, returning the nasal favor. Half-blind from the blood and pain radiating from his nose, he spun around for a target and found Sir Jean within range.
The knight felt his panic returning as things became less like butchering the uppity peasants comprising the Jacquerie in his native province and more like the brutal battle at Poitiers, although there he had laid down his sword and enjoyed a comfortable period of relaxation until his ransom was paid. Naive though he might have been, he knew better than to expect such honorable treatment from this lot. He released the rope, dropping the suspended Manfried onto Raphael’s shoulders. Both men fell to the ground and Sir Jean drew the sword he had found the night before.
Rodrigo stumbled back with blood burning in one eye and dodged the next swipe of Giuseppe’s sword. By Providence they had battled across the deck until they were near Hegel’s rope, which Giuseppe inadvertently severed when Rodrigo ducked. The rope snapped past Giuseppe’s face and on reflex he jumped back, his knee buckling on the lip of the hold. The head conspirator fell backward into the exposed hold and went under the brackish surface for a moment, then came up to see the unmoored Hegel tumbling toward him. Martyn had freed Hegel’s left arm and had made enough progress with the right that when the rope went slack Hegel slipped out of the bond and fell.
Leone’s crossbow popped again, and this time the bolt found flesh. The horrified sailor thought for a moment Rodrigo had actually caught the arrow out of the air, but then blood poured out from either side of his hand. Rodrigo stared at the arrow skewering his hand and wondered why it did not hurt, and suddenly it did, severely. Leone dropped the crossbow and fumbled for his dagger when the tip of Rodrigo’s cutlass passed between his teeth and out the back of his neck, blood misting Rodrigo’s face as he twisted his sword to free it.
Spying his mace on the deck, Manfried lunged away from Sir Jean while Raphael swung at the knight. The mercenary’s blade bounded off Sir Jean’s plated chest and the chevalier cracked Raphael in the skull with the pommel of his sword. Raphael slumped at Sir Jean’s feet and he delivered a vicious kick to the man’s stomach. Before he lost himself in stomping his former guard, Sir Jean spotted Manfried dashing up the deck and gave chase.
Giuseppe saw Hegel plummeting down directly on top of him, but before he could move the Grossbart landed. Even with his soul to Mary’s Breast, Hegel’s body tallied another mortal sin when his dead weight drove Giuseppe’s head under water and split his skull on a submerged gold brick. The corpses of Giuseppe and the woman-thing broke Hegel’s fall better than the water and gold bars had for Leone the previous night, and when the cold liquid coated the Grossbart’s back his lungs drew in on reflex, his prodigious neck muscles loosening the noose. The foul nature of the air he inhaled, stagnant with the murdered monster’s fishy musk, caused him to begin coughing and gagging. Hegel Grossbart again drew breath, but only because the physical world so offended his dying senses.
Manfried snatched up his mace in one hand and his brother’s nearby pick in the other, and spun toward Sir Jean just as the knight brought his sword down. The cutlass exploded when it met Manfried’s swinging mace, metal shards bouncing off Sir Jean’s plating and embedding in Manfried’s skin. In the same motion Manfried brought the pick up between the knight’s legs, its metal tip punching a jagged hole in Sir Jean’s codpiece and what it covered.
Drawn so close, Manfried could not dodge Sir Jean’s broken sword as it thrust at his bruised throat. Before it reached flesh the knight curiously released the weapon and awkwardly slapped Manfried’s face, the discharged blade clipping Manfried’s uncropped left ear and tumbling over the rail. Rodrigo’s sword had not penetrated the thick iron covering Sir Jean’s forearm but had succeeded in both disarming the man and incensing Manfried even more.
The numbness in Sir Jean’s genitals turned to searing agony when Manfried yanked the pick out, and before he could recover Rodrigo and Manfried had knocked him to the deck. His armor sagged inward wherever the mace struck, bruising his skin and the organs beneath. The tip of his nose flipped off under Rodrigo’s blade, erupting blood and snot, and thus disenfranchised of even an honorable death, he covered his face with his hands and waited for a strike to end both humiliation and life.
“Keep’em where he lies, but kill’em and you’s next,” Manfried snarled at Rodrigo, whirling to find his brother.
Martyn saw Manfried stalk around the deck calling for Hegel but 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.
“Ugh,” groaned Hegel.
“A goddamn miracle!” Manfried shouted, “Praise Mary!”
“Praise,” Hegel managed. “Us.”
“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 forgotten Captain Barousse. He had watched the entire event from where he lay trussed between the masts, several times serving as a stone for men to topple over in the battle. His placid eyes and expressionless face transformed at the sight of the Arab, however, tears brimming even as a grin split his swollen face.
After discovering Sir Jean’s jettisoning of every crust and crumb-including both of the Brother’s private food satchels from their bunks-Manfried rooted through all the bags in the common room, and ransacked the other bunks looking for hidden cheese or sausage. He found enough to last him a day, and again cursed their recent softness. They should have stashed extra provisions somewhere lest this sort of idiocy transpire. Making sure none approached the ladder he took the slightest of sips from his personal waterskin, rolling the water around in his mouth with his eyes closed. Then he filled a bucket from the beer barrel, thanking the Virgin that had not tipped like the water.
