Paul Doherty - A Brood of Vipers

'Well, perhaps dear uncle found it and carefully pieced it together. Whatever, I am sure the old king, lonely and frightened, wrote how he was fearful of his son. Maybe he even suspected he was being poisoned?' 'Is that why Throckle committed suicide?' I asked.

'Oh, yes, do you remember that letter of invitation? The good Sir Edward was invited to visit the court and bring with him certain herbs.' Benjamin smiled thinly. 'It took me some time to realize that these weren't ordinary herbs or flowers, but poisons such as belladonna and foxglove. The flower Henry was holding in that picture is a highly poisonous flower, the false helleborine. It can often be mistaken for the lily.' Benjamin touched me on the hand. 'That's why I sent you and poor Maria to the wise woman in the village near the Albrizzi villa. Most of the poison-flowers and herbs depicted in that painting are known in both England and Italy.'

'So Throckle,' I interrupted, 'read between the lines of that invitation?'

'Yes, he did. He thought he was being summoned to court to answer for certain secret crimes. So, he took the Roman way. He destroyed whatever evidence he possessed, filled a bath with hot water and opened his veins.'

'But why would your uncle threaten Throckle?' Agrippa asked, head slightly cocked to one side. 'Oh, he wasn't threatening Throckle,' Benjamin replied. 'He was, in fact, threatening the king. Henry must have seen a copy of that letter, heard about his old physician's death and realized his chief minister, somehow or other, was also party to the secret.'

'I don't believe that,' I interrupted. 'I think that Wolsey was from the beginning in the plot to kill the old king. After he died the three plotters never mention poison. Throckle takes an early retirement. Wolsey is rapidly promoted and Henry is master in his own house. Now the story lies dormant until Throckle intimates that he would like to leave the country and Wolsey sends him an invitation to court.'

'You believe dear uncle was party to the conspiracy from the start?' Benjamin asked.

'Yes, I do,' I snarled. 'Throckle was safe until he asked to go abroad. He may have thought he was safe even then, that your dear uncle had forgotten what happened sixteen years ago. Dear uncle's invitation, with its secret message, literally terrified Throckle to death.'

'But the painting?' Agrippa asked. 'What has that got to do with it?'

'Ah!' Benjamin pushed away his platter. 'All three of us know,' he said quietly, 'that the king is tiring of his present wife, Catherine of Aragon. We know there are rumours that, with his tender conscience, the king now has an attack of scruples that he should not have married his brother's widow.'

'But Catherine,' I said, 'was a virgin when she married Henry. Her marriage with his elder brother, Arthur, was never consummated.'

'Henry doesn't give a fig for that. Catherine is old and dumpy, God bless her! More importantly, she hasn't borne a living male heir and Henry is getting older. I suspect he began to blame Wolsey, seeking a way out, and my uncle's star began to dip.' Benjamin leaned over and refilled all our cups. 'How can Henry get rid of Catherine?' he asked.

'Poison,' I suggested. 'I wouldn't put anything past that evil bastard!'

'Catherine has her own physician,' Agrippa spoke up. 'She's a Spanish princess as well as Queen of England. Her uncle the emperor would not be pleased.'

'So, what do you do,' Benjamin asked, 'if you have an attack of scruples like our noble king?'

'Seek an annulment,' I replied. 'From the pope. Get the royal lawyers to argue that there was no marriage in the first place.'

'Ah,' Benjamin said, 'but the present Holy Father, Adrian VI, is a man of integrity and great sanctity. He would reject such a plea.' 'But a corrupt pope wouldn't,' I put in.

'Precisely,' Benjamin continued. 'Last autumn my dear uncle took part in a secret diplomatic meeting at Boulogne, ostensibly about England, the Italian republics and the emperor creating an alliance against their inveterate enemy, the King of France. Now,' Benjamin sipped from his cup, 'at that meeting were both dear uncle and Cardinal Giulio de Medici. They would talk, take long walks in the cool of the evening. Lord Giulio would talk about his own problems, the enmity of powerful families like the Albrizzis of Florence and, above all, his great desire to become pope. And what would Wolsey talk about, eh, Roger? His fear of losing control over the king and fat Henry's desire for an annulment?''Of course!' I breathed. 'And that's when plans were laid.' 'Oh, yes, Cardinal Giulio plots to murder the present Holy Father. Secretly, mysteriously, Adrian will die. There will be a conclave of cardinals. England will back Giulio de Medici's elevation to the papacy but,' Benjamin ran his finger round the rim of his cup, 'our good cardinal in Florence does not want to leave for Rome knowing the likes of Albrizzis might make their bid for power. So the Albrizzis are sent to England.' Benjamin sipped from his cup. 'Now, before they leave, Giulio tells Enrico that the Albrizzis were responsible for the murder of his father and uncle and that the emerald Lord Francesco will give to King Henry is proof of this. He persuaded Enrico to begin his bloody vendetta far away from Florentine soil so he would bear no blame.' 'And the painting?' Agrippa asked.

'Oh,' Benjamin replied, 'at Boulogne Lord Giulio revealed his soul's secret to Wolsey and demanded something in return. Wolsey tells him about the mysterious murder of Henry VII. He asks Cardinal Giulio to ensure that the Albrizzis bring a painting which secretly depicts this.' 'Why?' Agrippa asked.

'As a subtle reminder of the secret agreement between Wolsey and Giulio de' Medici. Each has the power to blackmail the other. The Albrizzis commissioned the painting, not knowing its hidden significance, and the stage was set. Giulio knew the truth behind the old king's death. Wolsey knew that Giulio is hell-bent on not only the destruction of the Albrizzis but also on the death of Pope Adrian VI and the acquisition of the papal tiara. In the end,' Benjamin mused, 'they were both successful. The Albrizzis are gone and so is Enrico, with no blame being laid at the door of the Medicis.'

'That's what the Master of the Eight was trying to ferret out, wasn't it?' I exclaimed.

'Oh, yes,' Benjamin replied. 'Now, Throckle's dead. Wolsey is secure in his power because he has Giulio de Medici's sworn word that when he becomes pope he will annul the present king's marriage.' Benjamin sighed. 'He, in turn, was able to destroy the Albrizzis and secure English support. Borelli is dead – some of the cardinal's men would have taken care of him – the painting's destroyed and, heigh-ho, we are dancing along the road to hell.' Agrippa unclasped his hands and shook his head. 'Don't you believe me, Doctor Agrippa?' The magus rubbed his face in his hands.

'I heard rumours,' he said, 'that the old king was estranged from his son. That he had turned against Wolsey. I knew Throckle was constantly watched. True, your uncle did meet Giulio de' Medici at Boulogne. The king was impatient at him and is desirous of getting rid of Catherine. And certainly Cardinal Giulio is evil. He hated the Albrizzis and he wants to be pope. Yes, yes, they are all strands of the same rope. But, tell me, the painting?'

'Think about it,' Benjamin replied. 'The original is destroyed, but do you remember the flowers?' 'Yes.'

'Well, on reflection, they were all poisons! And the small picture on the tomb? A saint dressed in armour. We thought it was St George. In reality, it was St Julian Hospitaller. Very few people know about the legend regarding this saint. Julian was a soldier who killed his own parents and spent his life in reparation for this terrible crime. Henry would know its significance. I am sure there were other hidden signs – that's why the painting is now destroyed. Of course Borelli was murdered, just in case he began to reflect on what he had done.'