Free The Sword Brothers by Peter Darman Page A

Rudolf.
    ‘I trust you had a
good night’s sleep, Conrad?’
    Henke grinned evilly
as he and Rudolf joined the queue of those waiting to empty their
bowels at the bowhead where there were located two seats, one
projecting out either side of the prow. It was an undignified and
precarious business but absolutely essential.
    Conrad noticed that
during the voyage most of the crew and passengers became a little
leaner, especially Bruno and Johann who took a week before they
acquired their sea legs. However, Hans actually gained weight on
account of the regular meals he was eating.
    ‘What did you do,
Conrad, before this voyage, I mean.’
    They were in the hold
armed with hammers trying to hunt down and kill the rats that
occupied the ship’s interior. Hans was clutching a candleholder,
the flickering flame barely enough to see by let alone hunt black
rats.
    ‘I was an apprentice
baker to my father,’ answered Conrad proudly. ‘What about you?’
    ‘Beggar and thief.
There’s one, quick!’
    Conrad raised his
hammer but he only caught a fleeting glimpse of a black shape and
then it was gone. This was hopeless. Conrad lowered his weapon.
    ‘A thief?’
    ‘Caught stealing a
loaf of bread. They were going to hang me but it was a church
court, fortunately, and so they offered me a life serving God or
dancing on the end of a rope. So here I am.’
    ‘What about your
family?’ asked Conrad.
    Hans scratched his
head and picked a louse from his hair. ‘Don’t have any. I was an
orphan and beggar on the streets of Lübeck. Managed to survive most
of the time but I had not eaten in two weeks. I was so hungry that
I didn’t consider getting caught. I just saw that big fresh loaf
and the ache in my belly and took it. What about you?’
    ‘I lost my family,’
was all that Conrad would say on the matter.
    The voyage was largely
uneventful, the waters of the Baltic remaining largely flat and the
winds mostly mild. Occasionally they were struck by a thunderstorm
that drenched the boat, but not before everything on deck had been
covered with canvas sheets. The rainwater was caught and stored in
the casks that had been emptied of water and so there was no need
to put into shore to replenish what had been consumed. No one
washed or shaved and so as the days passed everyone stank and got
progressively filthier. Rudolf and Henke discarded their surcoats
and chainmail and donned garnache – loose outer garments with
short, wide sleeves. The mercenaries similarly stashed their padded
coats away and wore their leggings and shirts only.
    The mood was relaxed
and friendly, the sailors appreciative of Conrad and his companions
lending a hand with daily tasks on board and the mercenaries being
kept on a tight leash by Rudolf. In their spare time the sailors
played dice but Rudolf prohibited Conrad and his comrades from
taking part.
    ‘Gambling pampers to
our base instincts and leads to resentment and anger,’ he told
them. ‘No good comes of it.’
    His words were
prophetic as two days later a fierce argument broke out between two
of the crew concerning cheating at dice. One of the men pulled a
knife and stabbed the other sailor, resulting in his death. He was
immediately arrested and placed under guard in the hold while his
fate was decided. Rudolf ensured that Conrad and his fellow youths
were in attendance as the man was hauled before the captain. The
day was warm and sunny with a light breeze filling the sail above
them as the offender was brought up the steps. The body of the dead
sailor lay on the deck, blood oozing onto the wood. Conrad
deliberately stared ahead to avoid looking at it.
    Rudolf and Henke, now
dressed in their mail armour, though not coifs, and both with
swords in their hands, flanked the prisoner. Conrad noticed that
Rudolf had some terrible scars on his neck.
    The captain wiped his
nose and eyed him.
    ‘Have you anything to
say?’
    The sailor, nervous
and pale, clasped his hands in front of him. ‘It was just