A Brood of Vipers (17 page)

Well, what could I do against the advice of some silly fart of a physician?)

The sun was climbing in the sky when we left the Villa Albrizzi. You must remember it was still early in the morning. (The Italians rise just before daybreak and take their rest in the early hours of the afternoon.) At first Giovanni was taciturn, still frightened by that bloody owl, but my master had questions to put to him and was insistent. He conversed casually at first, complimenting Giovanni on his horse and his skill at riding, asking where he had been born and what campaigns he had fought in? Giovanni was like any soldier the world over and, as we ambled down the dusty track winding through the vine- and cypress-covered hills towards Florence, he explained how he had been a soldier for as long as he could remember. I listened intently, trying to ignore Maria, who rode behind Giovanni pulling faces and mimicking him.

'So, you've always fought for Florence?' My master interrupted one rather boring story.

'No, no. For a while I fought with the French. I even spent two years on your island. I was hired as a master gunner.'

'You are skilled with the arquebus?' Benjamin asked innocently.

'As any in Europe,' Giovanni boasted.

Then he realized what he had said and became taciturn again. Urging his horse forward, he hardly said a word until we reached the busy thoroughfare heading through Florence's northern gate.

'I have seen you to the city,' he muttered. 'Now I must return.'

Benjamin turned his horse, watched him go and smiled at me.

'A Florentine mercenary who has worked for Henry of England and is skilled with an arquebus. Interesting, eh, Roger?'

'I could have told you as much!' Maria spoke up heatedly. 'Giovanni's a treacherous bastard. He's one of those men who like killing. He's no different from the family he serves. The Lord Francesco may have been a bad man but he didn't have the blood lust of the rest.' She lowered her voice, for her exclamations in English had attracted the attention of other travellers. 'They are all violent. They would have laughed if Alessandro had killed you. And Giovanni is a spy.'

'What do you mean?' Benjamin pushed his horse closer.

'He's a spy! Either for the de Medici or the Master of the Eight, or probably for both. I have seen him slipping out of the house at night when he's not poking the Lady Beatrice.' She gathered the reins of her donkey. 'That will end in blood,' she added darkly. 'Enrico's no fool. If he catches them in flagrante, either he or Giovanni will die.'

'What else do you know?' I asked.

Maria looked away. 'I have told you what I know.' She looked back across the city, where the great dome of Brunelleschi's cathedral loomed through the haze. 'I hate this place,' she whispered. 'My father died here. And, when I have enough silver and gold, I will leave.' She looked up and her face broke into a smile. 'And it's to England, isn't it, Roger?'

I looked at my master, who shrugged. 'It is to England?' she insisted. 'Yes, Maria, it is to England.'

We continued into the city under a gateway decorated with a number of severed heads. Maria went ahead of us, showing the way through the winding Florentine streets, past the butchers' stalls, stacked high with mutton and veal. I noticed something rather strange. In London you never know what meat you are buying. As I have remarked before in my memoirs, I am an authority on such matters simply because I have eaten both cat and rat meat and so can tell the difference. Others can't. What they regard as succulent hare is often the remains of some alley cat. However, in Florence, according to the decree of the Council, the skins and heads of all animals whose meat is sold must be displayed in front of the butchers' stalls. This may be a wholesome practice, but being stared at by the glassy eyes of sheep, cattle, rabbits and lambs is disconcerting.

The streets were just as busy and packed as those in London. My ears dinned with the clash of pots and pans, the clinking of money, the cries of the owners of old clothes' stalls, the hawkers of wooden ware, kettles and frying pans. The streets were choked with mules and carts. Now and again we would debouch from some narrow alleyway into one of the beautiful squares or piazzas of the city, open and paved with pleasant fountains in the middle. Crossing one of these, I was disturbed by what appeared to be sombre-clad ghosts carrying a black catafalque. As they passed all heads were uncovered and even the most coarse and ribald carters drew their carts to one side to give more room.

'They are the brothers of the Misericordia,' Maria explained. She pointed to the leader of these black ghosts.

'Each unit of ten is led by a Capo di Guardia. You can tell him by the leather bag tied round his waist. It contains brandy, cough lozenges and the key of a drawer under the litter. In this there is a drinking cup, a stole, a crucifix and some holy water, in case a sick person should die on the way to hospital.'

I gazed at the long, black cloaks, the hoods and cowls with holes for the eyes, nose and mouth.

'They look like demons,' I whispered.

'No, no,' Maria replied. 'The Misericordia are the great glory of Florence. They visit the sick and take them to hospital but, according to the rules of their confraternity, they must remain in disguise so no one will think them virtuous nor can they boast of their good work.'

I watched the litter pass.

'But isn't the person dead?'

'Oh, no. They are hidden to save any embarrassment.' Maria wiped her little mouth on the back of her hand. 'Florence's hospitals are the wonder of the world.' She smiled sourly. 'Mind you, they have to be; there's more poisoning and dagger thrusts in this city than any in Italy, even Rome.'

'They look like the Eight,' Benjamin observed.

Maria urged her donkey on, looking over her shoulder at my master.

if you ever fall into their power,' she called back, 'you'll find there's no mercy from the Eight!' A bell began to sound.

'Hurry up!' she called and, as we came out of the alleyway, pointed across the square to a huge, rectangular, fortified building.

'The Piazza de' Medici! The Lord Cardinal awaits you.' She drew in the reins of her mount and came alongside. 'We have a phrase in English - when you sup with the devil

'... you carry a long spoon!' I finished for her. 'In this case,' Maria whispered, 'make sure your spoon is very, very long!'

Chapter 9

We stabled our horses at a nearby tavern and entered the palace. Now the Medicis are certainly corrupt, as I found to my cost, but they knew how to build and how to live. The palace was extraordinary. We went up some steps into a large courtyard with a fountain in the middle, the water cascading from a bowl held by a beautiful nymph carved in ivory. We crossed this court and entered a garden curiously devised with laurel trees, thickets of bay, closely shaded walks, great ponds of water and statues of every variety, mostly carved out of marble. In one corner, so Maria whispered, was a curious ice-house with a cool cellar under it where the melting ice dropped down upon barrels of wine, thus keeping them fresh.

Chamberlains met us, arrogant men in their Medici colours with the Medici balls, the family coat-of-arms, emblazoned on their tunics. They took us up through sumptuous galleries where paintings hung on the walls next to hangings of cloth of gold and the purest velvet with all sorts of devices depicted there - birds, trees, flowers and strange landscapes. In every room people worked or lolled. I noticed the number of men, some in half-armour, all wearing swords and daggers, who guarded the galleries, doors and antechambers. Cardinal Giulio had his principal chambers at the centre of this opulent web. He awaited us in a beautiful, high-domed room, the walls painted gold and silver and every inch of the floor covered in pure wool rugs. He sat at a desk near a large window overlooking the square, dictating letters - to princes and prelates all over Europe - to five or six clerks working at desks on either side of his own.

For a while we just stood watching him. At last the cardinal took notice of us, studying us carefully with those hooded eyes as he fingered the gold tassel of his purple robe. He held up a finger. A curiously contrived clock fashioned out of ivory and gold, which sat on the ledge above a cavernous fireplace, chimed musically and then struck the noon day hour. As the last chime died, the cardinal picked up and rang a silver handbell. He clasped his hands, the clerks disappeared and he waved us forward. We walked towards him in a strange silence, because the woollen floor coverings and the heavy drapes on the walls deadened every sound. We knelt and kissed his purple-gloved hand. The rubies on his fingers could have bought half of England. Once the courtesies were finished, he led us over to a small, velvet-draped alcove and sat us down beneath a beautiful painting of Adam and Eve being tempted by the serpent. I remember it vividly, because the naked woman depicted there was one of the most beautiful and life-like I had ever seen. Cardinal Giulio sat opposite us on a small, throne-like chair, a fixed smile on his smooth, olive face. I felt nervous at the prolonged silence and wished those black mutes outside had not so expertly taken our sword belts from us. I looked across the room at the clock, which Benjamin seemed fascinated by.

'A present from the Emperor Charles,' the Cardinal said quietly. 'He is fascinated by clocks. Did you know that?'

(At the time I didn't. I knew little about the square-jawed Hapsburg emperor, Charles V, but in time I got to know him well. He was one of the most curious men I have ever met. He was obsessed with time and surrounded himself with clocks of every contrivance. I went to visit him just after he retired to a monastery to prepare for death. The whole bloody place was ticking with clocks, so many you could even hear them in the courtyard. Ah well, that's time!)

The cardinal drummed one purple-gloved hand on the arm of the chair. He glanced at the clock, then half-turned to stare at us.

'Everyone,' he murmured, 'sends presents to Florence.' I thought he was asking us if we had brought one. I stared dumbly back.

'The present you brought,' he continued, 'is of the most exquisite variety, power.'

I didn't know what he was talking about and glanced sideways at Benjamin. My master seemed fascinated by the cardinal and was studying him carefully. The cardinal stirred as if shaking himself from a reverie.

'I am sorry, some refreshments?'

He must have pressed a device or a secret button in the chair, for a door concealed in the far wall opened. The black mute, whom I had seen with the cardinal at the Villa Albrizzi, came out with a tray bearing three tall-stemmed Venetian glasses. A blackamoor pageboy trotted beside him. The cardinal bowed his head imperceptibly. The mute lowered the tray, took a glass, sipped from it, then handed it to the cardinal, who went through the same ceremony before handing a glass to each of us. I raised the glass to my lips.

'No, wait!' the cardinal ordered.

And so we did, whilst the black mute and the pageboy stood there. A few minutes passed before the cardinal lifted his glass.

'To that noble prince, Henry of England!'

Benjamin echoed the toast. I mumbled something and, as I sipped from the glass, the mute and the pageboy disappeared through the secret door.

The cardinal grinned at my stupefaction.

'In Florence,' he said, 'one always drinks slowly. If you hold power, you not only make sure others drink before you but wait to see if it has any ill effects.'

He wrinkled his nose as he sipped the ice-cold, sparkling white wine. 'Some poisons take some time to act. 'And some tasters can hold the wine in their mouth. If dismissed too quickly, they leave and spit it out.' He smiled at me over the glass. 'Life in Florence, gentlemen, is very beautiful but, at times, it can be very, very dangerous.' He stirred, his silken robes rustling and giving off the most fragrant of perfumes. 'You brought a companion - little Maria the jester, in her buckram dress and rose-topped shoes?'

He must have caught some alarm in my eyes.

'She's my guest,' he continued. 'She's outside in the antechamber stuffing her little mouth with sweetmeats and waiting for your return. She so looks forward to travelling back with you to England, particularly after your defence of her against that bully Alessandro. You are a good swordsman, Master Shallot! A clever ploy, changing hands half-way through a duel. It's a pity you nicked him in the shoulder. You should have killed the arrogant, empty-headed bastard!'

I don't know about my master but I just sat transfixed, staring into those velvet liquid eyes. How in God's name, I wondered, did he know so much and so quickly?

'So, Preneste is dead?' he went on, 'and not before time. The Inquisition would have liked to have questioned him. But who started the fire? And do you think, Master Daunbey, that the owl was poisoned?' He turned and put his wine glass down on the small, polished table beside him, the top of which was inlaid with mother-of-pearl. 'Very, very clever!' he commented. 'I must remember that.' He folded his hands in his lap.

Now, if his object had been to frighten me then he had succeeded; here was a prince of the Church who seemed to know things immediately, even though they happened miles away. Benjamin, however, was made of sterner stuff.

'The trick with the owl was quite common with the ancient Romans,' he said. 'A bird is easily managed, whether it be an eagle flying over the forum or a rook with a rotten liver being opened for sacrifice so the auspices can be read. Dumb animals are much easier to control than men.'

Lord Giulio chuckled. 'You are a classical scholar, Master Daunbey.'

'More a matter of common sense, Your Grace. As it would be for you to have a spy in the Albrizzi household.' The cardinal's smile widened.

‘I wonder who it is?' Benjamin continued, as if talking to himself. 'How do you know so much so quickly? We left the Villa Albrizzi this morning. Maria accompanied us everywhere.' He held up a finger. 'Ah, the good Giovanni! I suspect that he did not return to the villa immediately but slipped into the city, secretly by another route, and came to tell you all that had happened.'