The Enterprise of Death

by Jesse Bullington

  On the last night Manuel even brought out his charcoal for a sketch or two, and though he protested greatly, Awa insisted on trading him the Judgment of Paris he had given her so long ago in exchange for the new drawings. They showed her as she was, she said, not for how he had hidden her under pale skin and European features. He knew she was right, and was secretly pleased to have his favorite painting returned to him. The ladies hung the new sketches beside the drawing of Awa that Monique had taken from Manuel’s studio years before and the portrait of Chloé that had started Awa’s collection, and after giving only a slight pause to their merrymaking for somber nostalgia, they resumed drinking and laughing.

  After Monique had passed out, which she was still more than capable of when she activated her undead organs for the purpose of enjoying herself, and Manuel had drifted off on the floor beside her, Awa poured herself a final drink and watched her friends sleep. It might seem a little creepy, she knew, but then few things about her life were not to an outside observer. She sipped the schnapps and let her mind drift all the way back to those friends who would not be visiting, those faces she would never see again barring some unlikely twist of fate or postmortem reunion, to Chloé and Paracelsus and Manuel’s family and the bandit chief Alvarez and Ysabel and Johan and Halim and even Omorose, and then she finished her drink and blew out the candle.

  The spirits of the hearth still crackled softly as Awa squirmed between Manuel and Monique. They were both warm despite one being very much alive and the other rather dead, and Awa sighed happily—there was no place she would rather be, and she fought off sleep as long as she could to extend the night just a little bit more. When the three friends parted late the next morning they did so with only the slightest tinge of the sorrow that always accompanies the departure of dear comrades, and promised to see one another again soon.

  Niklaus Manuel Deutsch died before the spring was out. His remains were interred quietly into Bern’s new parish churchyard on the east bank of the Aare, but he lived on in the memories of those who had known him, and was remembered fondly by even a few of his enemies. Each year, on the Autumn Solstice, Awa and Monique made the pilgrimage to the churchyard to lay edelweiss at the head of the artist, and then the two women would walk hand in hand between the moonlit tombstones, back to their home.

  Bibliography

  In addition to the following texts, I had a few stand-up individuals assist me in my research. First and foremost is Armand Baeriswyl of the Archeological Service of the Canton of Bern, who provided monumental aid in rendering sixteenth-century graverobbing, among other details, while being entirely too humble about it. I also need to thank Kameelah Martin Samuel at GSU for introducing me to some of the concepts I’ve explored here, Claire Joan Farago at CU-Boulder for suggesting several marvelous books that are included below, Erika Johnson-Lewis for providing me with the basics of Renaissance art when I was at FSU, and my friend Molly for sharing her own expertise with me. Finally, my high school art teacher Linda Hall deserves a shout-out, if only because she happens to be very cool.

  Albala, Ken. Cooking in Europe, 1250–1650. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2006.

  Allen, S. J., and Emilie Amt. The Crusades: A Reader. Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press, 2003.

  Amman, Jost. Kunstbüchlin: 293 Renaissance Woodcuts for Artists and Illustrators. New York: Dover, 1968.

  Argyle, W. J. The Fon of Dahomey: A History and Ethnography of the Old Kingdom. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966.

  Ball, Philip. The Devil’s Doctor: Paracelsus and the World of Renaissance Magic and Science. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006.

  Bambach, Carmen C. Drawing and Painting in the Italian Renaissance Workshop: Theory and Practice, 1300–1600. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999.

  Bay, Edna G. Asen, Ancestors, and Vodun: Tracing Change in African Art. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2008.

  Burckhardt, Jacob. The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy. 2 vols. New York: Harper and Row, 1958.

  Cassidy-Welch, Megan, and Peter Sherlock, eds. Practices of Gender in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2008.

  Classen, Albrecht, ed. Sexuality in the Middle Ages and Early Modern Times: New Approaches to a Fundamental Cultural-Historical and Literary-Anthropological Theme. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008.

  Clifton, Chas S. Encyclopedia of Heresies and Heretics. New York: Barnes and Noble, 1992.

  Curl, James Stevens. A Celebration of Death: An Introduction to Some of the Buildings, Monuments, and Settings of Funerary Architecture in the Western European Tradition. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1980.

  Duni, Matteo. Under the Devil’s Spell: Witches, Sorcerers, and the Inquisition in Renaissance Italy. Florence, Italy: Syracuse University Press, 2007.

  Ehrstine, Glenn. Theater, Culture, and Community in Reformation Bern, 1523–1555. Leiden, Netherlands: Koninklijke Brill, 2002.

  Faderman, Lillian. Surpassing the Love of Men: Romantic Friendship and Love Between Women from the Renaissance to the Present. New York: William Morrow, 1981.

  Farmer, David Hugh. The Oxford Dictionary of Saints. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.

  Gallonio, Antonio. Tortures and Torments of the Christian Martyrs: The Classic Martyrology. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2004.

  Geary, Patrick J. Furta Sacra: Theft of Relics in the Central Middle Ages. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1978.

  Gordon, Bruce. “Toleration in the Early Swiss Reformation: The Art and Politics of Niklaus Manuel of Berne.” In Tolerance and Intolerance in the European Reformation, edited by Ole Peter Grell and Bob Scribner, 126–144. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

  Hagen, Rainer, and Rose-Marie Hagen. What Great Paintings Say: From the Bayeux Tapestry to Diego Rivera—Volume 1. Cologne: Taschen, 2005.

  Hale, J. R. War and Society in Renaissance Europe, 1450–1620. Leicester, UK: Leicester University Press, 1985.

  Hall, Bert S. Weapons and Warfare in Renaissance Europe: Gunpowder, Technology, and Tactics. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997.

  Harari, Yuval Noah. Renaissance Military Memoirs: War, History and Identity, 1450–1600. Woodbridge, Suffolk, UK: Boydell Press, 2004.

  Herskovits, Melville J. Dahomey: An Ancient West African Kingdom. New York: J. J. Augustin, 1938.

  Jones, Timothy S., and David A. Sprunger, eds. Marvels, Monsters, and Miracles: Studies in the Medieval and Early Modern Imaginations. Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University Press, 2002.

  King, Margaret L. Women of the Renaissance. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991.

  Koegler, Hans, and C. von Mandach. Niklaus Manuel Deutsch. Basel: Urs Graf Verlag, 1940.

  Kors, Alan Charles, and Edward Peters, eds. Witchcraft in Europe, 400–1700: A Documentary History. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001.

  Lawless, Catherine, and Christine Meek, eds. Studies on Medieval and Early Modern Women 4: Victims or Viragos? Portland, OR: Four Courts Press, 2005.

  Levack, Brian P. The Witch-Hunt in Early Modern Europe. London: Longman, 1987.

  Long, Carolyn M. Spiritual Merchants: Religions, Magic, and Commerce. Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2001.

  Luard, Elisabeth. The Flavours of Andalucia. London: Collins and Brown, 1991.

  Lukehart, Peter M., ed. The Artist’s Workshop. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art, 1993.

  Maclean, Ian. The Renaissance Notion of Women: A Study in the Fortunes of Scholasticism and Medical Science in European Intellectual Life. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1980.

  Manchester, William. A World Lit Only by Fire: The Medieval Mind and the Renaissance. New York: Back Bay, 1992.

  Plunket, Ierne L. Isabel of Castile and the Making of the Spanish Nation, 1451–1504. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1915.

  Reston, James Jr. Dogs of God: Columbus, the Inquisition, and the Defeat of the Moors. New York: Anchor, 2006.

  Ronen, Dov. Da
homey: Between Tradition and Modernity. London: Cornell University Press, 1975.

  Roob, Alexander. The Hermetic Museum: Alchemy and Mysticism. Italy: Taschen, 1997.

  Shaw, Christine, ed. Italy and the European Powers: The Impact of War, 1500–1530. Leiden, Netherlands: Koninklijke Brill, 2006.

  Singh, Ranjit. “Boabdil: The Unfortunate: El Zogoybi.” Free Thoughts by Ranjit Singh. http://idyllic.wordpress.com/2009/02/ 26/boabdil-the-unfortunate-el-zogoybi/.

  Summers, Montague, ed. The Malleus Maleficarum of Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger. New York: Dover, 1971.

  Sutcliffe, Anthony. Paris: An Architectural History. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1993.

  Thomson, David. Renaissance Paris: Architecture and Growth, 1475–1600. London: A. Zwemmer Ltd, 1984.

  Van Abbé, D. “Change and Tradition in the Work of Niklaus Manuel of Berne (1484–1531).” Modern Language Review 47, no. 2: 181–198.

  Wiesner, Merry E. Working Women in Renaissance Germany. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1986.

  Wills, Chuck. Weaponry: An Illustrated History. New York: Hylas Publishing, 2008.

  Zambelli, Paola. White Magic, Black Magic in the European Renaissance: From Ficino, Pico, Della Porta to Trithemius, Agrippa, Bruno. Leiden, Netherlands: Koninklijke Brill, 2007.

  Acknowledgments

  Everyone from last time, plus all the people I either didn’t know then or blanked on when the pressure of trying to thank everyone kicked in. Some names to add to the old list: Jason, Angie, Stephen, Marc, Mark, Tess, Robert, Josh, Amanda, Philip, Paul, Kathy, Allyson, Mike, Isaiah, Chris, Ashley, Evan, Francesca, Scott, Neil, Sandi, Kevin, Ned, Nigel, Tasha, Melissa, David, Lisa, Kelly, Alicia, Kay, Katie, the Tanzers, the Ferrells, and all the fans who took the time to write after reading The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart. I also need to thank the owners and baristas at Folsom Street Coffee, especially J.C., Chris, Rick, Krista, John, Lily, Jessie, Staci, Teak, Shawn, and Serena, for fostering such an excellent working environment; the Widow’s Bane for providing fine music to revise a novel full of the undead to; the Oskar Blues, Rogue, Stone, Ska, Odell, Left Hand, and Great Divide brewing companies for providing such delicious elixirs to soothe my overtaxed brain when I was finished; and the Fermentation Lounge for introducing me to so many of the aforementioned breweries in the first place.

  Rather than the hand metaphor (and cheesy, prolonged yuckyucking) of last time, I think simply thanking my beta readers more directly is in order. My profuse thanks therefore go to J. T. Glover, S. J. Chambers, my wife Raechel Dumas, and especially Molly Tanzer, all of whom helped me time and again in the struggle to land this project. I should also expressly thank John Gove for dedicating his Saturdays to being a grand hiking partner—without such opportunities for decompression I might have collapsed along the way. My parents Bruce and Lisa, my brother Aaron and sister Tessa, my in-laws, and all the rest of my family should no doubt be thanked again as well, so there we are.

  I also can’t praise Orbit enough for being such a great publisher, especially Tim, Jack, Alex, Lauren, Jennifer, Mari, Devi, and DongWon in the U.S., and Bella, Rose, Anna, Emily, Darren, and Joanna in the U.K.

  I must also thank my agent Sally and her assistant Mary for being such great friends and associates, and finally, my copy editor Roland Ottewell, without whose attentions this book would not be nearly so coherent. So again, a heartfelt thanks to all involved in bringing this book to you, the reader, who is deserving of more than a little thanks for taking a chance on my work. This wouldn’t be possible without you, and I thank you for it.

  Finally, I need to offer my appreciation for those individuals whom I so shamelessly conscripted into this novel: Niklaus Manuel Deutsch, his wife Katharina, Doctor Paracelsus, Albrecht von Stein, and especially old Boabdil were no doubt very different from how I have written them here, and I hope their shades accept my sincere thanks, and apologies for rendering them in such a fictitious—and often unflattering—manner. This novel would not be the work it is without the real lives of real people to inspire me, and as much fun as it was to play with their histories I would never wish anyone to mistake my versions of these individuals for the actual historical figures. Paracelsus, at least, would presumably appreciate the exaggerations.

  extras

  about the author

  Jesse Bullington’s formative years were spent primarily in rural Pennsylvania, the Netherlands and Tallahassee, Florida. He is a folklore enthusiast who holds a bachelor’s degree in history and English from Florida State University. He currently resides in Colorado, and can be found online at www.jessebullington.com

  Find out more about Jesse Bullington and other Orbit authors by registering for the free monthly newsletter at www.orbitbooks.net

  if you enjoyed

  THE ENTERPRISE OF DEATH

  look out for

  THE SAD TALE OF

  THE BROTHERS

  GROSSBART

  also by

  Jesse Bullington

  I

  The First Blasphemy

  To claim that the Brothers Grossbart were cruel and selfish brigands is to slander even the nastiest highwayman, and to say they were murderous swine is an insult to even the filthiest boar. They were Grossbarts through and true, and in many lands such a title still carries serious weight. While not as repugnant as their father nor as cunning as his, horrible though both men were, the Brothers proved worse. Blood can go bad in a single generation or it can be distilled down through the ages into something truly wicked, which was the case with those abominable twins, Hegel and Manfried.

  Both were average of height but scrawny of trunk. Manfried possessed disproportionately large ears, while Hegel’s nose dwarfed many a turnip in size and knobbiness. Hegel’s copper hair and bushy eyebrows contrasted the matted silver of his brother’s crown, and both were pockmarked and gaunt of cheek. They had each seen only twenty-five years but possessed beards of such noteworthy length that from even a short distance they were often mistaken for old men. Whose was longest proved a constant bone of contention between the two.

  Before being caught and hanged in some dismal village far to the north, their father passed on the family trade; assuming the burglarizing of graveyards can be considered a gainful occupation. Long before their granddad’s time the name Grossbart was synonymous with skulduggery of the shadiest sort, but only as cemeteries grew into something more than potter’s fields did the family truly find its calling. Their father abandoned them to their mother when they were barely old enough to raise a prybar and went in search of his fortune, just as his father had disappeared when he was but a fledgling sneak-thief.

  The elder Grossbart is rumored to have died wealthier than a king in the desert country to the south, where the tombs surpass the grandest castle of the Holy Roman Empire in both size and affluence. That is what the younger told his sons, but it is doubtful there was even the most shriveled kernel of truth in his ramblings. The Brothers firmly believed their dad had joined their grandfather in Gyptland, leaving them to rot with their alcoholic and abusive mother. Had they known he actually wound up as crow-bait without a coin in his coffer it is doubtful they would have altered the track of their lives, although they may have cursed his name less— or more, it is difficult to say.

  An uncle of dubious legitimacy and motivation rescued them from their demented mother and took them under his wing during their formative man-boy years. Whatever his relation to the lads, his beard was undeniably long, and he was as fervent as any Grossbart before him to crack open crypts and pilfer what sullen rewards they offered. After a number of too-close shaves with local authorities he absconded in the night with all their possessions, leaving the destitute Brothers to wander back to their mother, intent on stealing whatever the wizened old drunk had not lost or spent over the intervening years.

  The shack where they were born had aged worse than they, the mossy roof having joined the floor while they were ransacking churchyards a
long the Danube with their uncle. The moldy structure housed only a badger, which the Grossbarts dined on after suffering only mild injures from the sleepy beast’s claws. Inquiring at the manor house’s stable, they learned their mother had expired over the winter and lay with all the rest in the barrow at the end of town. Spitting on the mound in the torrential rain, the Brothers Grossbart vowed they would rest in the grand tombs of the Infidel or not at all.

  Possessing only their wide-brimmed hats, rank clothes, and tools, but cheered by the pauper’s grave in which their miserable matriarch rotted, they made ready to journey south. Such an expedition required more supplies than a pair of prybars and a small piece of metal that might have once been a coin, so they set off to settle an old score. The mud pulled at their shoes in a vain attempt to slow their malicious course.

  The yeoman Heinrich had grown turnips a short distance outside the town’s wall his entire life, the hard lot of his station compounded by the difficult crop and the substandard hedge around his field. When they were boys the Brothers often purloined the unripe vegetation until the night Heinrich lay in wait for them. Not content to use a switch or his hands, the rightly furious farmer thrashed them both with his shovel. Manfried’s smashed-in nose never returned to its normal shape and Hegel’s indented left buttock forever bore the shame of the spade.