Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion

Benito was ecstatic. Sure enough! He had a grandstand view!

Unfortunately… so did the four Dandelo retainers who were also perched on the balcony, not more than ten feet away from him. All of them large, angry looking?and armed with cudgels.

The moment was… tense. Benito stared at the Dandelo goons. They stared at him.

What to do? What to do? Two of the Dandelos were starting to move toward him.

Fortunately for Benito, his abrupt arrival had also been noticed by one of the knights standing next to Dorma. The very large one, with a very large voice.

"Hold!" came the bass bellow. Wide-eyed, Benito stared down at him. The very large knight had taken a step toward the balcony, pointing a very large (and armored) finger at the advancing Dandelo goons. "Hold right there! You men are under arrest!"

The very large and armored finger now pointed imperiously at Benito. "You have your orders, Knight-Squire Crazykid!" The finger swept back?as imperiously as ever?to the Dandelo goons on the balcony. "Arrest them! Don't let them escape!"

One of the Dandelo retainers standing not far from the very large knight began to shout some sort of protest. The knight?moving way faster than Benito would have believed he could?slammed a very large and armored fist into the man's face. The Dandelo was flattened instantly. Blood everywhere. Benito wasn't sure, but… he thought the blow had broken the man's neck as well as crushed his head.

Knight-Squire Crazykid? Arrest them? Don't let them go?

Fortunately, Benito was no stranger to brazening his way out of jams. He drew his little knife and brandished it like a sword. What the hell. "Knight-Squire Crazykid"?slurred in that terrible accent?did sound a bit German.

"Stop!" he shouted at the goons on the balcony. "I'll kill any man who tries to escape!" He took two steps toward them. "God and the Right!"

Before he got out the last words, an arquebus went off with a roar on the floor below. Then, two more. The four Dandelos on the balcony took off like antelopes. In an instant, they had disappeared up another set of stairs.

Benito looked over the balcony. Both of the Dandelos holding arquebuses were down. One of them clearly dead, his chest a bloody ruin; the other, groaning and holding his side. Blood was pouring through his fingers.

Benito hadn't seen it, but he was sure that the Dandelos had made some threatening move with the firearms and the Schiopettieri had cut loose with their own. Now, with the Dandelos armed with nothing beyond cudgels and edged weapons…

Against Knights of the Holy Trinity?!

The stampede was already starting. When the very large knight whipped out his sword and bellowed "Dia a coir!" the stampede turned into a rout. Dandelo retainers raced out of the entry hall, seeking escape anywhere they could find it.

Most of them made it, but five were corralled by the Knights or Schiopettieri. Angelo Dandelo didn't even get two steps. He tried to make his escape, but the blond knight seized him by the scruff of the neck and drove him to the floor by kicking in the back of his knee. None too gently, with an armored boot.

Benito practically howled with glee. But his pleasure ended abruptly, when he noticed that the very large knight was glaring up at him.

Again, the imperious finger. Again, the booming basso voice.

"You! Come down here!"

Benito danced back and forth. The staircase he'd come down from was just behind him, after all. Benito was sure he could outrun that big knight, especially since he'd have to come all the way from the floor below… clanking in heavy armor up a staircase that was at an angle from where Benito was standing on the balcony…

He was sure he could make his escape.

On the other hand? ?if he didn't?

Benito glanced down at the Dandelo who'd been struck by the knight's fist. Um. Yes. His neck was broken.

Meekly, Benito trotted over to the staircase indicated?even that damned finger looks like it could break bones?and came down the stairs.

"Yes, sir! I'm coming!"

When he arrived before the very large knight, it seemed as if everyone was glaring at him. Most of the knights with reproof, the Schiopettieri with anger, Petro Dorma with the stern face of official Venice.

Well… everyone except the blond knight and the big one. The blond was still holding Angelo Dandelo down. He just glanced at Benito and shook his head, the way a man will when confronted with the crazy act of a crazy kid.

The big knight's heavy and square face was half hidden behind the nose guard of his helmet. But Benito saw it very clearly when he… winked at him.

"Who are you?" demanded Petro Dorma. "And what are you doing here?"

For some reason, the large knight's wink returned all of Benito's usual self-confidence. Although he did manage to restrain his usual swagger.

"I'm Benito Oro," he announced. Then, angrily: "It was my friend Maria the bastards grabbed! That's why I'm here!" The angry tone faded into something more sullen. "I just… wanted to make sure, that's all."

Dorma sighed. Then, exchanged glances with the blond knight.

Benito heard the blond knight mutter something to Dorma. He wasn't sure, but he thought it was "From the mouths of babes."

Dorma's mouth quirked into a little smile. "And why not? All right, young Benito. Since you're here anyway, you can be my?ah, let's call it witness for the canalers. How's that?"

Benito nodded his head, eagerly.

The eagerness faded, when he felt a very large hand close on his shoulder. The hand squeezed a bit. Just a bit. Benito felt like he was caught in a vise.

"I'll look after the kid, Lord Dorma," rumbled the voice. "Have no fear."

Dorma's quirky smile turned into something a lot broader. "Oh, I don't." He gave Benito a genuine official stare.

"I don't believe there's any reason to fear. Is there, boy?"

The very large hand squeezed a bit more. Benito's head-nodding became very eager.

The next two hours were sheer joy. Benito accompanied Lord Dorma and his entourage as they went through every room?every closet?of Casa Dandelo. Those locks on slave pens for which Angelo had keys in his possession were unlocked. Those which he didn't, were smashed open.

Every slave was inspected. Then, records demanded.

Every slave for whom Dandelo had no records was immediately freed and escorted away by Schiopettieri. Then, Lord Dorma made a notation of the fine. In every instance, he fined Casa Dandelo the maximum permitted by Venetian law.

Every slave for whom Dandelo had inadequate records was also freed?with the same maximum fine.

Lord Dorma's concept of "adequate records" was… strict.

Manfred's was… Teutonic. Erik's was… Viking.

"The ink is smudged here," announced Dorma. "Can't be read at all," snorted Manfred. "I say she's a free woman," growled Erik.

Dorma hesitated a moment, then nodded. Scribble, scribble. Maximum fine.

"He doesn't quite resemble the description," mused Dorma. "To say the least!" boomed Manfred. "An inch too short," sneered Erik. "No resemblance at all. He's a free man."

Scribble, scribble. Maximum fine.

"Does that hair look black to you, Ritters?" queried Dorma. Half a dozen helmeted heads shook back and forth in firm disavowal. "Brown," stated Manfred firmly. "Practically blond!" barked Erik.

Dorma nodded again. "He's free, then." Scribble, scribble. Maximum fine.

Angelo Dandelo stopped even trying to protest, halfway through the process. Partly because of the split lip he had from his first?and very profane?protest. The blond knight had been no more gentle with his (armored) backhand than he'd been earlier with his boot. You'll show respect for the Lord of the Nightwatch, damn you. Next time you'll spit teeth. The time after that you'll spit guts. Try me, you fucking slaver bastard.