Paul Doherty - A Brood of Vipers

I was mesmerized by that smile, and by the soft words pouring out of those sensuous lips. 'Just yes or no,' he added. 'No, your Grace,' Benjamin replied. The cardinal breathed in deeply. 'Any suspicions?' 'Everyone in this garden has a motive, Your Grace.'

'Be careful!' the cardinal murmured. 'As I leave you, I'll extend my hand and you will kiss it. Take the medallion concealed there. If you ever need my services, just show it, that will be enough.' He stepped back. 'And what message have you from my brother of England?' 'England will say yes,' Benjamin murmured, 'if, when England asks, Rome says yes.' The cardinal's smile widened. 'Then our answer is yes,' he said enigmatically and, raising his hand, allowed Benjamin to kiss it.

I saw the glint of silver as the medallion was passed between them.

After that the cardinal left the banquet, bestowing benedictions and good wishes on all present – behaving in fact more like a family chaplain than an inveterate enemy of the entire Albrizzi clan. 'What do you make of that, Roger?' Benjamin whispered.

'Just another viper,' I said crossly, 'and a very dangerous one.'

'Who were his companions? They kept so much in the shadows I couldn't even make out their faces.'

'One is his bodyguard,' Maria piped up from behind us. 'The other is Frater Seraphino. No, don't turn round! If the cardinal's dangerous so is Seraphino. He is Master of the Eight, the secret police. Oh, and before I leave, drink deeply Crosspatch – the Albrizzis have their own ways of detecting murderers.'

I didn't know what she meant but, once the cardinal had departed, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Lady Beatrice came sauntering across the garden, hips swaying, clasping a cup to her ample bosom. She stood before us, moving suggestively. I could tell she was in her cups and was intent on taunting us. My master, however, refused to be drawn.

'Good evening, my lady,' he began, keeping to the pleasantries, 'How long have you been married to Lord Enrico?' 'Oh, four years.' 'And you are happy?' Beatrice giggled. 'Can any man make any woman happy?' 'Did your father make you happy?' Benjamin asked softly.

The girl's eyes hardened. 'God gave us our relatives, Master Daunbey. Thank God, we can choose our friends! Father was harsh. Of course I mourn his passing and pray for his soul, but death is a part of life.'

I just gazed at this hard-hearted hussy, soft and spoilt as a lap dog. She noticed my gaze. 'What are you staring at, varlet?' I bowed slightly. 'My lady, I am not too sure.'

It took the bitch a few seconds to perceive the insult. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. 'You forget yourself,' she hissed.

I could see by the poise of her body that she intended to call on her menfolk for assistance.

'My Lady,' I purred, 'I meant no insult. Certainly not here, in such a beautiful garden. I meant to come down here as soon as we arrived,' I continued, 'but I saw Master Giovanni busily digging so I decided it was best not to.'

My master looked nonplussed but the sultry bitch understood my intent and caught her lower lip between her teeth. 'You are not as stupid as you look, Inglese!'

'Never judge a book by its cover,' I replied cheerfully. 'My Lady,' I added, 'on the day your father died, you were looking at English fabrics?' 'Yes.'

The minx had no choice but to reply. After all, blackmail in Florence is the same as in England. 'And you saw nothing untoward?' 'I have answered that question already.'

'Who else knew your father would be shopping in Cheapside?' 'We've answered that already. Everybody did.'

By then I didn't give a damn – in for a penny in for a pound is the old Shallot.

'And where were you on board ship when Matteo was murdered?'

'Murdered!' Her eyes widened. 'Who said he was murdered, Master Shallot? He slipped and fell overboard. I was sleeping between my mother and her maid.'

'Did you resent your father giving you in marriage to the Lord Enrico?' 'No, men are all the same in the dark, Master Shallot.'

She came a little closer. I must say she looked resplendent in the torchlight, which emphasized her glittering eyes and gave her skin a golden hue.

'And, before you ask, you base-born, tail-wearing Inglese, I have used a fowling piece.' She tapped me gently on the arm. 'You should be careful. You are in Florence now, not the filthy midden you call London.'

And, before I could think of a suitable insult in reply, she turned and flounced away.

‘I don't like her,' Benjamin said. 'She's a dangerous woman, empty-headed but cunning. She has the face and body of a beauty but her mind is as empty as a beggar's purse.' 'Master Daunbey!' Roderigo called us over.

We walked across the garden to where he sat on a turf seat, with the Lady Bianca at his feet staring adoringly up at him. Now even then I was a hardened rogue, yet I had to punch myself at the cold-bloodedness of this family. Roderigo had lost a brother, she had lost a husband and their trollop of a daughter had lost her father. I have seen people weep more bitterly over a favourite dog. Oh, well, that's the way with power and wealth. It shrivels the soul and turns the emotions into silver pieces to be thriftily collected and miserly doled out. 'My Lord Cardinal seemed pleased to see you.'

'We are the envoys of an English king,' Benjamin replied. 'Not to mention His Eminence the Cardinal.' 'How long do you intend to stay in Florence?'

I felt like asking him to be more honest – what he was really asking was how long were we going to poke our noses into his affairs. Benjamin touched my elbow to keep silent.

'Lord Roderigo,' my master replied. 'We have business here, people to see, messages to deliver.'

Benjamin waited for Lord Roderigo to question him further, but the wily nobleman refused to be drawn.

'We also must,' Benjamin added, 'discover the reason for your brother's murder and unmask the assassin.'

'There's really no need of that,' Lady Bianca simpered, blinking furiously as if trying to control her tears. 'Lord Roderigo has already informed the Master of the Eight.'

'Lady Bianca is correct,' Roderigo intervened smoothly. 'We appreciate your king and dear uncle's concern, yet these are delicate matters, best handled by the Florentine authorities.'

'Your brother was also an accredited envoy to England. Our king's peace was violated. He, too, wants answers and justice done,' Benjamin replied.

Roderigo shrugged delicately, as if there was no answer to that. 'Then there's the artist,' I said. 'King Henry would like to offer him an appointment at the English court.' 'Ah yes, signor Borelli.' 'You know him?' I asked. 'Of course, my brother and I collected the painting from him. He lives in a street just behind the Piazza del Signor. One of my servants will take you there in the morning.' Roderigo smirked. 'Provided you offer Borelli enough gold and tell him as little as possible about the climate or the food, he will jump at the chance. Florence has a surfeit of artists.' He got to his feet. 'As for the murder of my brother, we have other ways of uncovering the truth! Florentine ways!' He snapped his fingers and called across to Giovanni, who had been standing in the shadows of the doorway leading to the house. 'The Lord Cardinal has truly gone?' 'Yes, my lord.' 'Then tell Master Preneste we are ready.'

Now, you have got to believe old Shallot. You know I am not a liar, I have danced with the devil on many a night under the silvery moon. I have met the Lord Lucifer in all his guises. I have watched the great witch burnings in Germany across the Rhine. I have been hunted through the wet woods of Saxony by warlocks. Whenever you are up in London, visit the Globe Theatre, watch Will Shakespeare's Macbeth, especially those three hags. I gave him the idea. I did the same for Kit Marlowe and his marvellous play Doctor Faustus. Perhaps Faustus is nearer the truth – there are a legion of cranks who claim that they can call Satan up from Hell but whether he comes or not is another matter. However, that night in the Villa Albrizzi I met a man who did have that power.