Commotion broke out. Chairs were pushed back. Alessandro gabbled something in his native tongue to Roderigo, his hand going to the dagger in his belt. Roderigo sat motionless; he rapped the table for silence.
'Master Daunbey, your servant is blunt.'
'Not blunt, Lord Roderigo, honest. If you want the truth, honesty is the best path to it. And may I add another question - why did the Lord Francesco go unaccompanied?' He stared at the condottiero but Roderigo was now determined to take the heat out of the situation.
'I agree,' he said flatly, 'that silken niceties will not lead us to the truth. To answer bluntly, my brother thought that he was safe in London. Who here would wish him ill?' His hand touched the wrist of the condottiero sitting next to him. 'But we are wealthy people and so attract violence. Master Daunbey, you have seen the gallows outside the palace. If varlets are prepared to steal from their king, why should they draw the line at attacking visiting strangers?' He sniffed, pulled a silken handkerchief from beneath the cuff of his jerkin and politely dabbed his nose. 'And as for anyone here knowing where my brother was, why I knew! But so did everyone else. He made no secret of his excursion.'
'In which case, my lord, I have one more question,' Benjamin said. 'Where was everyone else when the Lord Francesco was killed?'
This time no hand-waving from Roderigo could still the tumult. Alessandro shot to his feet. He was all excited, chattering volubly in Italian, pointing down at Benjamin and myself. I knew very little of the tongue, but I understood he was not wishing us well. Enrico sat staring across the room, his face pulled in silent disapproval. The women, though not so excitable, were dabbing at their eyes and whispering to each other. Preneste the physician and Giovanni the condottiero remained impassive. I glimpsed a flicker of a smile on the soldier's face, as if he enjoyed seeing his noble, wealthy patrons upset.
Nevertheless, as I have said, it is always fascinating to study people in the middle of such commotion. You learn more by gestures than by fiery speeches. The three servants, Preneste, Giovanni and the dwarf Maria all remained calm and silent, tacitly conceding that Benjamin's questions had already occurred to them. But what of the family? Roderigo chewed his lip. His right hand was under the table. Was he squeezing the hand of his dead brother's widow? She, between tears and sobs, gazed adoringly at him. Alessandro was undoubtedly acting. Enrico seemed calm enough, whilst his young wife Beatrice, although clinging tearfully to his arm, looked hot-eyed up the table at the hard-faced Giovanni.
Benjamin, like me, was studying them all and assessing their different emotions. He bowed his head and grinned behind his hand at me. Eventually Agrippa, who sat hunched as if bored to tears, got to his feet.
'Signor Roderigo,' he said, 'Master Daunbey's question is perfectly reasonable. If he cannot obtain such statements then he is wasting your time and you are refusing the king's generous offer.' He emphasized the last phrase.
Agrippa's short declaration brought silence.
'And my question still stands,' Benjamin insisted.
'I will answer for everyone,' Roderigo said. 'The day Lord Francesco went into Cheapside, I and everyone here stayed at Eltham.' He smiled and spread his hands. 'Though, of course, I cannot prove that. Anything else?'
Benjamin shook his head.
'In which case,' - Roderigo got to his feet - 'I understand His Grace and the excellent cardinal are out hunting, a pastime I would like to share.' He smiled falsely. Though, of course, Master Daunbey had to be welcomed.'
The rest of the household also rose, pushing back chairs. Roderigo sketched a bow in Benjamin's direction.
'Master Daunbey, excuse me. I am sure we will meet later in the day. We look forward to you joining us on our journey back to Florence.'
Lord Roderigo sauntered from the room whilst his companions, apparently forgetting us, chattered amongst themselves and followed suit. Agrippa walked down the hall. He firmly closed the door behind them and crept, spider-like, back towards us.
'What do you think?' he whispered.
'Arrogant as peacocks!' I snarled. 'Do you know, Agrippa, there are pools in Norfolk which are calm on the surface but, deep down, violent currents and oozing mud lurk. The Albrizzis are like that. I wouldn't trust them as far as I could spit. Why can't they be kept in England?' I wailed. 'Why must we trot off to Italy behind them!'
Agrippa sat down next to me, his hand on my shoulder.
'Because, dear Roger, the king has other tasks for you. And, secondly, we have no power to retain them. Thirdly, what can the king do? If he refuses to offer any assistance, it may seem that he doesn't care.'
'What other tasks does he have for us?' I snapped.
Agrippa tapped me on the shoulder and got to his feet. 'Let him tell you himself,' he cackled, and sauntered off.