shouting at each other. Dorma was turning his head, clearly on the verge of issuing orders which—just as clearly, from the tension of the knights and the arquebus-armed Schiopettieri standing behind them—no! spreading to the sides, ready to fire—was going to cause all hell to break loose!
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 av