The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart (6 page)

“Not Christian,” the man complained. “Come into my house and try to murder me.”

“See, it ain’t like that,” Hegel explained. “My finger slipped.”

The chortling bothered them more than the voice, and the faint whipping noise did not help.

“Slipped, did it? Oh, then it’s alright. After all, travelers in the night are right to be cautious, especially so deep in
the wood, so far in the mountains. Never know who’s out there, prowling the night.”

“Right enough,” Manfried answered, sorely aware he did not need to yell to be heard.

“It’s been an awful long time,” said the man, “since we’ve had any visitors who’d talk to us.”

“That a fact?” Hegel swallowed, still trying to pinpoint the man’s location.

“Most just scream like children and run. Rather, they try to run.” Neither Grossbart found this warranted even a chuckle,
let alone the drawn-out laugh that shook their nerves.

“We’s talkin,” Manfried pointed out. “Ain’t gonna run. Anyone runs, reckon it’ll be you.”

Hegel could not return his brother’s weak smile. “Yeah, uh, that’s how it is, friend.”

“Oh, I think I could make you run,” the voice growled. “Yes, I wager you’d run if you weren’t too scared to do nothing but
mess your drawers and pray. All it’d take is me taking a few more steps toward that fire. Still want me to come into the light?
Fair’s fair, here I come.”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Hegel quickly interjected. “You’s fine where you’s at, and we’s fine where we’s at, no sense in, uh,
no sense in—”

“Forcin us to kill you,” Manfried finished, but the words almost stuck in his craw. He was no superstitious bumpkin but he
knew dark things move at night, especially in the wilds where men rarely journey. Still, no sense in getting all frazzled.
Sweat poured down his face despite the frigid night air. The chortling coming from the dark twisted his bowels, and his whole
body shook with nervous excitement.

“Can’t have that,” the unseen interloper managed through his mirth. “My goodness, no.”

“Knew he was bluffin,” Manfried muttered, mouth dry and brow damp.

“Can’t have
you
killing
me
, that wouldn’t do at all. Have to put food on the board, yes?” the man rasped, only now his voice came from above them, drifting
down out of the thick pine boughs. Manfried felt nauseous and light-headed, even his oversized ears failing to detect the
movement in the dark.

“Yeah.” Hegel tried to keep his voice from quavering but he felt ill and weird. The Witches’ Sight—if that was truly what
he possessed instead of mundane intuition—wracked his body with chills, every scrap of his skin itching to dash off into the
night away from this clearly Mary-forsaken wood.

“So we’s decided,” Hegel finally said.

“Yes we are,” the voice almost whispered from the trees.

“You stay where you’s at and we stay where we’s at,” Hegel confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Hegel felt relieved.

“Until morning.”

“Til mornin?” Manfried bit his lip.

“When I fall upon you and eat you both alive.”

For the first time in their lives the Grossbarts were dumb-struck.

“You’ll scream then,” he continued, his voice rising with the wind. “You’ll beg and cry and I’ll suck the marrow from your
bones before you expire. You’ll feel bits of you sliding into my belly still attached, and I’ll wear your skins when the weather
turns.”

“Uh,” Hegel managed, looking like an occupant of the crypts from which they made their living.

Manfried could not even get that much out, eyes like saucers. His lips moved in prayer but no sound emerged. His faith that
whoever waited outside their vision posed no serious hazard to them had dissipated. He wanted to spit in the face of whoever
lurked in the trees, to say something so insulting it would make even his brother blush. What finally came out mirrored Hegel’s
statement:

“Uh.”

Laughter rained down on them with such heartiness that pine needles accompanied it. The Brothers had subconsciously drawn
so close that when their shoulders brushed they both jumped. No further sound came from the darkness, save the swishing both
found familiar yet neither could place.

“Fire’s low,” Hegel whispered, the shadows lengthening on their periphery.

“So put wood on,” Manfried snapped. Neither had taken his eyes off the overhanging branches since the laughter had trailed
off on the wind. They were uncertain whether moments or hours had passed, scanning the trees for movement. Hegel cracked first
but used his feet to kick limbs onto the blaze, unwilling to set down his crossbow for even an instant.

“Watch my ass,” Manfried said, and retrieved the other arbalest. Stringing it, he rejoined his brother’s vigil. “Got an idea.
Need to shoot soon as you see’em.” Manfried had lapsed into a guttural vernacular that only his brother could decipher. Their
uncle grew furious whenever the Brothers adopted it, paranoid they were plotting against him. His suspicions were only occasionally
justified.

“No need to say it twice,” Hegel replied in the same.

“Gotta stoke these flames, shine some light on matters,” Manfried announced to the wood, back in his regular Germanic mode
of speech.

Dumping more branches on what quickly grew into a bonfire, Manfried suddenly leaped to his feet and hurled a flaming brand
into the limbs overhead. Hegel stood ready but saw only the thick boughs of the pines. When the branch plummeted back down
they avoided being singed by the hair of their beards.

“Damn,” they both said, Hegel looking right, Manfried looking left.

“Suppose he’s a ghost?” Hegel asked in their unique tongue.

“More likely a cannibal tryin to put the spook on us,” Manfried replied in kind.

“What’s a cannibal do all the way out here?”

“What you think he does? Eats people, told us himself.”

“Awful strange, be smart enough to talk but dumb enough to eat other folk stead a proper beasts. All they’s good for.” Hegel
glanced at Stupid, who had calmed after the voice departed and stood dozing near the fire.

“Them crumbs you find in church is all cannibals, and they’s liable to talk you to death in the bargain.”

“What crumbs? What church?” asked Hegel.

“All a them. That’s what they eat, say it’s the body a Mary’s babe, and the wine’s his blood.”

“Oh, that rot again. Recollect that time we stole all a that hard bread and wine? That make us cannibals?”

“Hell no! Need a priest to turn it to flesh and blood.”

“Witchery,” Hegel judged it.

“It surely is. That’s how you know a man’s pure or not. Honest man don’t eat nobody else. Specially not no kin a Mary, I don’t
care how much a bitchswine he is.”

“So you think whoever’s out there’s just a heretic?” Hegel felt relieved.

“Yeah, nuthin more nor less.” Manfried was not the least bit sure but it would not do to frighten his brother with speculation.
“Besides, if he was somethin more than moonfruit what’s stoppin him from rushin us right now? Or earlier when I was asleep?”

“True words. Means to put the rattle on us, so’s we stay up all night and is half-strong come cockcrow.”

“Exactly.” Manfried heartened at Hegel’s sound point. “Any fool’ll tell you night’s when there’s real nastiness afoot. Nuthin
I ever heard a prefers day to night cept ordinary people. So you get some rest, and I’ll stand guard.”

“I won’t hear it, brother, my watch had only begun when I roused you. I’ll stay up, you take in some shut-eye.”

“Nonsense. I can see from here your eyes are saggin and you’s got that tremor on your lip you always get when you’s tuckered.”

Hegel tried unsuccessfully to get a gander at his own mouth but his bulbous nose blotted out all but his lower beard. He reluctantly
lay down, too out of sorts to argue anymore. He still felt hot and cold all over but could no longer be sure if this came
from being watched or from exhaustion. He pretended to sleep for several hours, always keeping one eye half-cocked on the
trees. He then switched places with Manfried, who did the same even less convincingly. Only Horse got any rest that night,
and an hour before dawn both Grossbarts squatted beside the fire, crossbows ready, too tired to speak and without even a turnip
to gnaw.

The dawn light grew with agonizing slowness, and when Horse whinnied the Brothers both spun around. In the dimness nothing
stirred save Stupid, who stomped and pulled at his tether, eyes swelling at something behind them. Then they heard the swishing,
and slowly turned to face the enemy.

He perched on a low-hanging branch a few dozen paces away, smiling mischievously. Guessing from his sparse and wispy hair
he held over fifty years on his wrinkled crown, but his teeth and eyes appeared hard and sharp. His face, however, did not
hold their attention.

Under his chin any semblance of humanity was absent, his body instead akin to those of the panthers and leopards that stalk
desolate regions. His mottled pelt bristled, various hues contrasting splotches of naked skin. The swish-swish-swishing came
from the balding tail whipping behind him of its own accord. His front paws dangled over the branch, hooked claws lazily extending
and retracting.

The Grossbarts had prepared themselves for anything; unfortunately, their concept of anything failed to include a hog-sized
cat with the head of an old man. Horse whinnied but no other sound disturbed the morning, the monster and the men watching
each other while light drifted down through the branches. With an air of finality the beast rose on its haunches, its four
legs balanced on the limb.

“Uhhh…” Hegel dumbly leveled his crossbow at it.

Manfried stared, transfixed.

They would fire their crossbows simultaneously, Hegel imagined, each quarrel embedding in one of the creature’s eyes. It would
fall dead from the tree, snapping its neck for good measure when it hit the ground. The cunningly wrought animal-skin cloak
would be dislodged, revealing what had to be a wizened but decidedly human body underneath. Hegel swallowed, and put the plan
into action.

Hegel fired his weapon but shook too badly to properly aim and his quarrel shot past the monster into the forest. Manfried
reflexively pulled his trigger but did not raise the bow, the bolt kicking up dirt at their feet. The old man’s grin widened
and he stepped forward along the branch.

Their only chance lay in battling the creature on the ground. If they held their nerve they might accomplish together what
would be impossible for a solitary man. If they hesitated in their course both would die, and neither doubted it to be less
than the worst end conceivable. Their options stolen, they must fight.

They ran. Screaming. In opposite directions.

Manfried’s mind burned with the single purpose of finding an end to the forest. Being fleeter of foot than Hegel, he would
have lost him in his mad flight even if Hegel had not dashed the other way. Manfried could see the trees and brush and now
the stream but the mill wheel of his mind had ceased turning; he had become a beast himself, intent on escape at any cost.

Rather than being attacked or hearing sounds of pursuit, it was the sudden realization that he was alone that brought each
Grossbart back to true consciousness. They had broken for a time but now understood that they were separated and hunted. Hegel
did not pause in his flight but cut sharply left, and noticing he had dropped his crossbow, drew his sword. Manfried jumped
over the stream and stopped cold, bile creeping up his throat. He slowly turned to see what followed.

Nothing but the breeze ruffling the treetops. The gurgling water blunted his hearing, his chest hurt horribly, and breathing
only made it worse. He still clutched his crossbow but the quarrels were back at camp. The ax had slipped out of its belt
loop but Mary be praised, the mace had not. He shakily withdrew it, and spun around to face the thing that had creeped behind
him. Again only the thick forest greeted him, and he went weak in the knees, keeping his feet by leaning against a mossy trunk.

Manfried had to find his brother. They had played into the Devil’s hands, and if he did not find his brother soon they would
both be undone. To call out might summon that thing instead of Hegel, though.

Something splashed in the water, making Manfried hop into the air. He twirled around until he became dizzy, desperate to prevent
being taken unawares. Only when he felt confident in his solitude did he peer into the stream.

Squatting, Manfried lifted the metal scrap from the water. His trembling turned into violent spasms as he realized it was
part of Horse’s bridle. A scratching came from over his shoulder, and slowly turning, he saw it.

It climbed slowly down the tree he had leaned on moments ago. It went straight down the sheer trunk, digging its talons through
the bark and into the wood. It took its time, smiling at Manfried.

Manfried made to run but slipped on the moss and tumbled from the bank. He yelled his loudest, splashing in the water until
he gained the opposite side. It crouched across the stream from him, tail swaying.