A Brood of Vipers

Maria? Ah well, she's different. When she died so did a little of myself!)
    'But we were proved right, Master,' I reassured him. 'Enrico was the murderer. Nevertheless he had no hand in Borelli's death. And he knew nothing about the picture.'
    'No,' Benjamin said absentmindedly. i don't think he did. We are still in the darkness, Roger, and the game's not yet over.'
    I groaned but, of course, my master was right. A few hours later, whilst we were sitting in a shady arbour in the Misericordia garden, that excellent imp of Satan, His Eminence Cardinal Giulio de Medici, Prince of Florence, sent his minions to collect us. He was waiting for us, as before, in his palatial, opulent chambers overlooking the piazza. This time he was not so genial. He sat behind his great desk enthroned in that high, purple-backed chair. He reminded me of some splendid peregrine crouched on its perch, wondering whether or not to attack.
    'The captain of my guard,' he began, 'has been to the Albrizzi villa. News of their deaths is all over Florence.' 'Enrico was the assassin,' my master told him. 'Yes, I know,' the cardinal said.
    'Enrico believed,' Benjamin went on, 'that Lord Francesco Albrizzi and his brother Roderigo were behind his father's murder. Now, how would be have found that out, Your Grace?' The cardinal looked at him menacingly. 'What are you saying, Englishman?' he asked softly.
    'Well, someone told him,' Benjamin said briskly, 'that the Albrizzis were the assassins and that they had taken an emerald from his father's body which they kept hidden until they handed it as a gift to King Henry.' The cardinal moved uneasily in his chair.
    'But that same emerald, Your Grace,' Benjamin continued, pointing to the painting on the wall, 'is the one you wear in that portrait, finished just a few years, perhaps even months, after the murder of Enrico's father. Now,' Benjamin crossed his arms, 'from the little I know, Enrico's father was in Rome buying a precious emerald from an eastern merchant. You will remember, Your Grace, that at the time Rome was under the governance of your uncle, Pope Leo X. Anyway, Enrico's father was murdered and the jewel was never seen again. I just wonder
    The cardinal leaned across the desk, tapping his little finger noisily on the wood.
    'Yes, I gave that emerald to Lord Francesco Albrizzi,' he snapped. 'I gave him strict instructions that he was to tell no one where he got it, but say that it was part of his family's treasure.' He spread his hands and leaned back. 'It was the least I could do. Lord Francesco was spending good silver in travelling to England. I could not expect him to purchase the costly gift himself. But,' he held up a finger, 'you have no proof that it was the emerald taken from Enrico's father.'
    'Your Grace is correct,' my master smiled. 'I have no proof at all, just a surmise. Nor am I accusing you of having a hand in that dreadful murder in Rome so many years before. Nevertheless, the jewels were never found. It is strange that you donated such a precious stone to Lord Francesco to give to our noble prince. Perhaps it's the merest coincidence that the handing over of this gift sparked off the murders in the Albrizzi household. After all, what other motive did Enrico have for these slayings except revenge?' Benjamin moved in his chair. He was tense with rage at the silk-clad Prince of Satan sitting so serenely opposite us. 'So,' he said, 'I go back to my original question. Who would tell Enrico all this? Surely someone powerful, someone who has access to secrets. Enrico was already very resentful at being made to marry Beatrice. Perhaps he already entertained vague suspicions which were fed and nurtured by this powerful person. But it needed clearer evidence to turn his suspicion to certainty. That evidence, Your Grace, was, I believe, the emerald.'
    'I could have you arrested for treason,' the cardinal murmured.
    'I doubt it. Others may begin to wonder. After all, you have totally extinguished two of Florence's most powerful families – families which never fully accepted the Medici rule in Florence.' The cardinal permitted himself a small, wry smile. 'But, don't forget, Lord Francesco also handed over other presents.'
    'Ah, yes, the painting from poor Borelli, commissioned by the Lord Francesco.'
    The cardinal's eyes danced in demonic merriment. He wagged a finger at Benjamin. 'You are good, Englishman. You are very, very good!'
    'No!' Benjamin snapped. 'Because of me, others have