'Yes,' he murmured, cocking his head to one side. 'I came back from Florence unexpectedly. Giovanni had completed his bloody work. I saw the cook, poor Alessandro, Bianca on the stairs. I came out here and killed Giovanni, sword against sword, dagger against dagger.'
I stared in disbelief. 'Have you been upstairs?'
He shook his head. 'No, when I saw Bianca I heard a sound from the garden. I came out and found Giovanni.' Enrico stared round into the darkness. 'I killed him here. I went back because he could have an accomplice who might still be here. I heard you and Maria arrive but I dared not reveal myself.'
'You are a liar, Enrico!' I retorted. 'You are a liar!' I stepped back. 'You are mad! You are wicked and you are an assassin!'
The bastard just gazed at me owlishly.
'That's your story anyway, isn't it?' I said. 'You are going to say that you changed your mind and broke off your journey. You returned to find that Giovanni, in a fit of madness, or for revenge, or because he was paid, had massacred the entire family. He had drugged my master and would have escaped if it had not been for your fortuitous arrival.'
Enrico smiled. 'But this is nonsense, Master Shallot. Why should I kill my family? Why murder?' I saw the light of madness flare in his eyes. 'Why murder my beautiful, beautiful wife?'
'Out of revenge,' I replied. 'Just as you killed Lord Francesco, the steward Matteo and the magus Preneste.' I took another step back. 'Quite a subtle plan. Who will conclude to the contrary? After all, Giovanni was only a condottiero, a mercenary, a hired killer. Who would even dream of suspecting the Lord Enrico, madly in love with Beatrice Albrizzi, the faithful godson, the quiet merchant prince. My master?' I smiled. 'That was clever, Enrico. A subtle, nasty touch. What happened? Did you come back to the villa, stable your horse and go into the kitchen, pour a goblet of wine with an infusion of valerian? Did you tell Giovanni to take it up as a present to my master? After all, Cardinal Wolsey of England might well have been enraged at the death of his nephew but this way Benjamin would not only stay alive but would be your principal witness. He would recall that it was Giovanni who served him the drugged wine and thus corroborate your story. You would walk away free, the sole heir of the Albrizzi fortune as well as the perpetrator of a most bloody act of vengeance. So, what do you intend to do with me?'
'With you, Master Shallot?'
I glimpsed the half-smile on his face.
'You meant to kill me too, didn't you? How?'
Enrico shook his head. 'You are insane, Inglese. You have no proof for what you say.'
I placed my body between him and poor Maria.
‘I have a witness,' I said softly. 'The dwarf woman. She's not dead but unconscious. She even told me how you had hidden Giovanni's body in one of the stables.'
Enrico shivered as if the night had grown cold.
'Must we talk here?' he asked, turning his face away.
'We can talk here,' I said, 'or in the palace of Cardinal Giulio de Medici, or in the chambers of that bloodthirsty bastard, the Master of the Eight!'
Enrico looked back, biting his lip, as if faced with some vexing problem.
'There could be another solution,' he said. 'What if I accused you of the murders?'
'There's still Maria.'
By now I was terrified. What could I do? If I followed him into the house and left Maria sprawled in the yard, he would know I was lying. If I stayed, he might kill me there and then. If I turned my back and pretended that Maria was only unconscious, that would leave me exposed. My mind teemed with plots and subtle strategies.
'We'll go in,' I said brusquely.
'That's good, Inglese.'
'On one condition. I go first. Lower your sword, Master Enrico, and put it and your dagger on the ground. As well as the sling or catapult you undoubtedly carry.'
He smirked. 'How did you know?'
I shrugged. ‘We have a saying in England - don't judge a book by its cover. The choice is yours. We either talk in the house or we fight to the death out here!'
Enrico stepped back and placed his sword and dagger on the ground. From beneath his cloak he took out a viciously powerful-looking Y-shaped sling with a leather cup. He put it on the cobbles beside his sword and dagger.
'Anything else?' I asked.
Enrico put his hands in the air. 'Inglese, you have my word of honour!'
Chapter 12
I felt so unreal. I sheathed my sword, took off my cloak and backed away, moving so that my eyes never left him. I wrapped the cloak around poor Maria's corpse, talking softly to her in English as if she were still alive. I pulled the cloak around her little face and head so that Enrico would never guess the truth. He might have another weapon, a stiletto pushed into his boot top, perhaps another damnable catapult or sling. However, as I lifted Maria, light as a feather, and began to back towards the house, I realized that the cunning bastard needed to talk to me. He needed to find out how much I knew, to see if there were any unseen gaps in his story. Or perhaps he saw me as a rogue who could be bought and sold. God knows the truth! All I remember is that it was one of the longest journeys I ever made. Carrying Maria, her thin body wrapped in the cloak, - the dagger still clasped in my sweaty hand, I backed towards the villa.