His words frightened me. I realized that soon I, too, would enter the Mouldwarp's clutches and, once again, dance to his sinister tune.
Across the bridge we rode, through Southwark and turning south-east towards Kent. We cantered under a warming sun past lush fields and down to the great palace of Eltham. Oh, and it was a palace, with its beautiful hall built of ash and ragstone, its outer and inner courtyards, gardens, orchards and fields, all defended by a deep, spacious moat. I heaved a sigh of relief - Henry and Wolsey were apparently in residence. Men-at-arms wearing the king's or the cardinal's livery guarded the roads and the entrance to the drawbridge. As we crossed, I saw the gallows set up on either side of the bridge. Each was six-branched and from every branch swung a half-naked corpse.
'What did they do?' I asked, 'Cough in the king's presence?'
'No,' Agrippa replied. 'They raided his stores. They were porters and scullions; they stole provisions from the kitchen and pantry to sell on the London market.'
I covered my nose and mouth against the stench as Agrippa paused to show warrants and licences to the guards. We passed under the gatehouse and into the outer bailey. A chamberlain informed us that both Henry and the cardinal were hunting in the river meadows. Agrippa told the fellow to show us to our chamber.
'Are the Florentine lords here?' he asked.
The chamberlain nodded.
'Have the king's guests shown to their chambers.' Agrippa gestured at us. 'Benjamin, Roger, wash and change. You can meet the Albrizzis in the great hall.'
And off he stomped, whilst the chamberlain, his sour face pinched into a look of disapproval, waddled ahead of us. Sweaty servitors, our saddlebags thrown over their shoulders, trotted behind. All I can say is I am glad we didn't have to carry the damned things. Guests! We were shown to the top of one of the outbuildings and given a little garret just under the roof - bare boards, dirty walls and a ceiling that was far too low. Two small cots were our beds, with a battered chest for our belongings. Benjamin protested, but the chamberlain puffed his little pigeon chest out. He said the palace was full so we were lucky not to be sleeping in the stables.
'I'd rather be with the horses, you toad-spotted varlet!' I shouted after him, but the fellow waddled off. I slammed the door behind him and unpacked our panniers. We washed, sharing the same jug of water. I now had the devil in me. I went downstairs and returned, after a successful foray in the kitchen, with a jug of wine, two cups, some freshly baked bread and fairly clean napkins.
'Where did you get those, Roger?' Benjamin asked.
'Your "dear uncle" left them out for us.'
The sarcasm was lost on Benjamin, he was so innocent and naive! He sat on his bed, sharing the bread and sipping at the rather thin wine.
'So, the dance has begun again, eh, Roger?'
'Aye,' I replied bitterly. 'First here, then heigh-ho to Florence.'
Benjamin grinned. 'Don't be so downcast, Roger. Think of the glories we'll see. The sun, the beauty. They say the Italian cities are the fairest in the world and Florence is their queen.'
'They also say,' I replied, 'that many people there die young.'
Benjamin refused to be despondent. We changed our boots for more comfortable footwear and went down to the hall. There was the usual pandemonium, servants and chamberlains keen on emphasizing their authority and high office, stopping us at every turn. The hall itself was guarded by royal halberdiers and we had to kick our heels until Agrippa arrived to usher us in.
'The Albrizzis will soon be here,' he whispered.
I gazed around the deserted hall. It was a beautiful, long, polished chamber, lighted by trefoil windows at each end and large bay windows down either side. The furniture consisted of sumptuously quilted chairs, covered stools, delicate-looking tables and sturdy aumbries. Coloured banners and pennants hung from the hammer-beam roof. Gorgeous paintings on the walls were interspersed with shields and the different insignia of the Knights of the Garter and the polished, oaken floor was covered in long, woollen rugs. Servants came in. The table on the dais was hidden by blue velvet curtains; these were now pulled back and chairs placed around the table. I was about to ask Agrippa if the king was returning when a herald, dressed in a glorious red and gold tabard, entered the hall.
'His most august lord, Roderigo Albrizzi!'
The herald stepped aside as Francesco's brother, Roderigo, now head of the family, entered, followed by the rest of the Albrizzis.
My first impression was one of arrogance and colour. The Albrizzis seemed not one whit abashed by the recent and sudden murder of Francesco. They hardly noticed us. Agrippa scurried towards them like some black spider. He bowed and kissed Roderigo's ringed hand whilst the rest of the family chattered and milled about. Agrippa whispered to Roderigo and the Florentine stared at us from under heavy hooded eyes. His face was swarthy and sunburnt. His hair, surprisingly, was not black but auburn, closely cut round his head as was the beard and moustache, which he now carefully stroked as he gazed at us.