Over the course of the time it took to drink two substantial glasses of wine in the mid-morning sun with his good friend Vittorio, Alessandro was able to give weight to his options and to contemplate the approaching storm of his love’s wrath. The two men sat at a small table outside the establishment where they had made the acquaintance of the dead Dutchman, and though the blood on his attire drew stares from passerby, none bothered them. It was idyllic, in an impending doom sort of manner, and the wine was a beautifully artful red that was both pleasing and rich.<br/><br/><strong>“Did you know, my friend, that we have three coachmen at the estate, and yet none are elevated one above the other? That all bear the title ‘coachman’, yet none ‘primo’?”</strong><br/><br/>Vittorio regarded his friend and employer with curiosity, for this hardly seemed to be the direction he expected their conversation might take.<strong>“I… I did not, sir. Pray, how might that be…?”</strong><br/><br/>With a wave of his hand Vittorio broke in.<strong>“I shall explain.”</strong>Dividing the last of the wine between their glasses, he gave the empty bottle a disappointed and annoyed look before setting it down and picking up his glass. He winced then, for his shoulder was causing a fair amount of pain, and yet as the wine flowed and time passed it became satisfyingly less bothersome.<br/><br/><strong>“You see, my brother, none bear the title ‘primo’ because none has <em>earned</em> it.”</strong><br/><br/>Vittorio rolled that around in his mind, and it was clear that Alessandro was intent that this tack in their dialogue should continue.<strong>“Why, sir, how might one of them so demonstrate their worthiness?”</strong><br/><br/>With a nod Alessandro swirled the lush red in his glass and nodded, approving of his friend’s keen question.<br/><br/><strong>“They would, then, prove by their skills and actions that they are superior to their peers. Show that they are able to perform the task more ably, or more expediently, or in a more pleasing manner.”</strong><br/><br/>Now even more puzzled, Vittorio was no longer humoring his friend, but was now genuinely invested in learning the point that was slowly being made.<br/><br/><strong>“And, sir? One has not, I take it?”</strong><br/><br/><strong>“Of a certainty they have not, and it disappoints me - yet their collective failure is nonetheless of use on this fine morning.”</strong>Alessandro nodded, and drained his glass before setting it down.<strong>“This is of utility, as I say, because of this: none have demonstrated their superior skills, as all accomplish the same tasks in almost the same manner and time. All prepare the coach to the same standard of readiness, and tend to its maintenance with similar degrees of care. Each would even drive the carriage from the estate to this fine location in roughly the same time, within minutes of each other.”</strong><br/><br/>Finally it was clear, and Vittorio nodded gravely.<strong>“I see, sir. And this is of use to us, because…”</strong><br/><br/>Alessandro clapped his good arm upon his friend’s shoulder, and pursed his lips as he nodded.<strong>“Because all of them, each of the coachmen in my employ, would have managed to be here by now, and in fact would have arrived some minutes ago. From that we might know with confidence, my good Vittorio… she’s not coming, and we are in very deep trouble indeed, you and I.”</strong><br/><br/>The proclamation hung in the air for a moment, and neither man spoke. Warily Vittorio drained his glass as well, and set it slowly and carefully down upon the table.<strong>“Then… what is your plan, sir? What shall we do?”</strong><br/><br/>Gravely Alessandro looked to his friend, and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially.<strong>“The only thing we may do, Vittorio. The only thing we may.”</strong><br/><br/>At that he raised his good arm, and with a slight gesture caught the attention of the sweet young girl who tended to their table.<br/><br/>------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>King Charles VIII… King Louis XII… The League of Cambrai, and the League of Cognac… Even the Ottomans!<br/><br/>Yes, over the centuries there had been a series of invaders and conquerors that had strode towards Venice with triumph in their hearts and resolve in their veins, but yet… yet, had their ever been such crusaders as these? Had there ever been more worthy noble souls, who so boldly strode through the streets of Venice? Any braver, or truer, or… louder?<br/><br/>From a good distance could the invaders be heard, their outbursts of laughter and endless stream of half-shouted conversation ringing out as they arm-in-arm marched towards battle with the Dragon of Venice. Behind them marched their army, and that such army was in fact merely a boy struggling to carry a stout wooden crate of some dozen bottles of the wine which fueled them onward to their destiny…? By this, the worthy heroes seemed not bothered in the least, and they soldiered on with aplomb.<br/><br/>Of a certainty, the Dragon was beloved. Was doted upon, and all that Alessandro had ever wanted or needed in life. But was there not genius in his approach? Was there not inspiration in a frontal assault upon the bastions of his estates rather than some cowardly crawl homeward? In striding boldly and proclaiming,<em>‘I am your man! Take me to your bed, and do my bidding’</em>?<br/><br/>It had made sense, there beside the road as Alessandro had described his brave plan, and his councilor Vittorio had both endorsed the plan and pledged his support on the campaign. Even as they marched, and talked, and drank… quite liberally, for the walk was long… even then had the plan grown in appeal and become all the more obvious in their minds. And yes, even as the boy laboriously trudged with their wine and shook his head ominously in warning, yet still they strode forward, to find glory.<br/><br/>Now, then… now, at the very gates of the estate did they pause, and gave unto each other such a grave and serious look as to make certain they each knew that they entered the Dragon’s lair. As commander, Alessandro the Brave – for so he had been named along the path of their march by his august companion, Vittorio the Stalwart – moved through the gates with a flourish, leaping dramatically and surprisingly catching himself before he fell.<br/><br/>Such acrobatics, such prowess, brought a cheer from Vittorio, who likewise breached the gate with style. Even the boy now staggering with the heavy crate of wine seemed pleased, and his small cries of encouragement only served to drive on the invaders.<br/><br/><strong>“I tell you, Vittorio…”</strong>Alessandro paused for a moment, struggling, and then his face lit up as he was once more able to follow his own thoughts.<strong>“I tell you Vittorio, there is but one thing to do. As Malionnari himself stood at the gates and offered his challenge, so too must we. It is… our destiny.”</strong><br/><br/>Swaying slightly, Vittorio nodded seriously.<strong>“So it is, sir. Our destiny, yes! We must… what is it we must do?”</strong><br/><br/>At this the boy sat the crate down to watch and to rest his tired arms, for it was evident that there would be no further progress for some time, and the leaders of their expedition were in truth quite entertaining.<br/><br/><strong>“Just this, Vittorio. Just this.”</strong>Alessandro tottered to his friend and placed his good arm around his shoulder, then leaned over to whisper to him.<strong>“We must make our challenge to the Dragon known, that we are men, and that I am here to claim what is mine, and that you… that we will find a girl for you as well.”</strong><br/><br/>Vittorio seemed pleased with such an idea, and was ready to follow his commander into the breach.<strong>“Annalisa, sir. I should like it to be her. And a fine plan, Alessandro. But… how might we do this?”</strong><br/><br/><strong>“Just so, sir. Just so.”</strong>At that Alessandro tilted his head back to the heavens, his face upon the windows of the apartments where he knew the Dragon must be, and began to bellow forth in enthusiastically off-key song.<br/><br/>Immediately Vittorio joined in, for he knew quite well the ribald drinking song that Alessandro had selected as their battle hymn. Their voices bounced off the stone walls and filled the courtyard, and gained in intensity as the heroes noted curious heads begin to fill windows to look out upon them.<br/><br/>They were feeling triumphant then, and glorious, until a certain face filled a certain window. At that moment their song… well, it faltered, and their will seemed to deflate noticeably as well.<br/><br/>The two men stood, gently swaying and holding each other up, and looked up to the window with concern. It was Alessandro – no longer Alessandro the Brave, but just Alessandro – that spoke first.<br/><br/><strong>“Run. Save yourself man, for the Dragon is upon us.”</strong><br/><br/>Fits of uncontrollable laughter then shook the two as, with tears of mirth in their eyes, they gasped for air and awaited their fate.<br/>