Arsenal gunner to manage her black powder.
'Up!' shouted Benito. 'Up the stairs--and at the Dandelos!'
The cheer now was a wild deep-throated roar, like a tiger uncaged and seeking furious vengeance on its trapper.
Benito led them on up. Reflecting all the while on an old proverb he'd once heard about the risks of riding a tiger.
* * *
Maria had found being back inside this place a nightmare. It made her feel weak and scared. Not the fighting, or the danger. Just the horrible place itself. Still, they had a job to do. And Casa Dandelo would rue the day they had taken her prisoner. She heard the tumult of the slaves coming up the stairs, and saw Benito at the head of them.
There was a fierceness in his shining eyes. This wasn't the mischievous, laughing boy she knew--and had once made love to, a memory she found strangely haunting. This was the blood of the Wolf of the North. She didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. But when she thought about it, it had always been there, lurking under the surface. For all his charm, there was also something a little frightening about Benito.
She followed after the rush. Fifteen minutes later she and Benito were out on the Grand Canal in fog. The Casa Dandelo was burning behind them.
'Well. That's that,' said Benito, rubbing his hands in satisfaction.
'I suppose you're proud of yourself?' said Maria quietly.
'Well,' said Benito, swelling his chest a bit. 'It was a good fight. We didn't expect them to have Milanese soldiers hidden in there. But those slaves didn't let arquebuses or even the magicians stop them. No finesse but lots of courage.'
'They had lots of courage because they were desperate, Benito, and no way out. And you used them as cannon-fodder. And that 'distraction' of yours exploded in the family living quarters. You probably killed and maimed a whole lot of kids. So I hope you're not too proud of yourself, Benito Valdosta, because I'm not. We just did what we had to do, that's all.'
Benito started to say something. Then he stopped himself. 'So what should I have done, seeing as you are so clever?' he asked. But there was doubt as well as hurt in his voice.
Maria looked back at the burning building. 'I don't know,' she said quietly. 'But that was the way the Wolf would do it. The Old Fox kills for family, not just for fun. He would have figured out a better way.'
'Uh-huh. Well, I'll think about it when I haven't got a war to fight,' said Benito. The adult male gruffness in his voice did a poor job of covering the hurt in the boy's. 'We'd better get back to the piazza and find out what that tocsin was all about.'
* * *
The bell was Lucrezia Brunelli's way of telling the city that its second most important citizen, Ricardo Brunelli, was dead. Murdered.
And not five hundred yards away, a building was burning.
A runner came up, panting. 'Arsenalotti! Count Badoero has landed at the Sacca della Misericordia. With many men!'
Chapter 88 ==========
Nobody challenged sixty fully armored knights riding through the dark. They crossed the Brenta and the Piave bridges without opposition. Now, as the sky was turning gray with the dawn, they only had the last league or so to go.
'We might be ahead, you know,' said Erik. 'They landed at Mestre. We saved a fair distance by going around by sea to Chioggia.'
'Hmm,' said Manfred. 'As long as they didn't meet up with Francesca.'
'No point in worrying about that,' said Erik. 'More immediate is the problem of how to stop the forts from opening fire on us. Or what to do if we see Ursula and her escort.'
Manfred snorted. 'She has twenty-five Knights and a bunch of Servants of the Holy Trinity. We have sixty. We ride the bastards down.'
