'Do you know, Shallot,' the wicked bastard purred, 'we all thought you were stupid, with your gauche ways and funny eyes.' He chewed the corner of his lip. 'But you're not, are you? You would make a good Florentine with your sharp brain and keen nose for mischief.' He sighed. 'But not a good lawyer. What proof do you have?'
'Oh, we have some,' I replied. 'We have the motive -revenge against the Albrizzis. We have your undoubted skill with the sling. We have the fact that you are the only survivor.'
He shrugged. 'I was fortunate. All the servants saw me leave the villa. I came back unexpectedly and had to kill Giovanni the assassin.'
'But will your master believe that?' I taunted. 'His Eminence the Cardinal Giulio de Medici, will he support you?'
Do you know, it was the only time I saw a flicker of worry cross that evil young man's face.
'Why the cardinal?' he said hoarsely. But the tone of his voice betrayed him.
'Because it was he who told you how your father died. It was he who arranged the journey to England. It was he who told you about the emerald and, of course, about Matteo and Preneste.' I tapped the table top. 'Those two were the personal retainers of Lord Francesco, and perhaps astute enough to discover the truth.' I sipped from the goblet. 'You undoubtedly saw Matteo try and speak to us on board ship, so he had to be killed. Preneste posed other dangers. He was murdered and then his chamber burnt. We thought it was because of certain paltry papers, but in fact you just wanted to make sure he hadn't committed any of his suspicions to paper.'
Enrico clapped his hands softly. 'You are dangerous,' he said. 'I never counted on fat Henry sending two special agents to root out the murder. I didn't mean to kill you in England,' he continued casually. 'You are right, Master Shallot. I am most skilled with the sling. If I wished, I could have killed you, but I just wanted to frighten you. But frightening you is rather difficult. You proved that against the arrogant bastard Alessandro!'
'When you should have kept your mouth shut,' I interrupted quietly. 'Because you noticed a certain stroke in that duel my master began to wonder if your eyesight was as poor as you claimed.'
Enrico grinned, dipped into a small pocket of his jerkin " and brought out his eye-glasses.
'Nothing but simple glass.' He held them up. 'But they do give you a studious air.'
'Why?' I asked.
'Why what, Inglese?'
'Why the murders now?'
'When you are hunted, Inglese, and you feel the net drawing in, what can you do? What did Daunbey plan for me? A dramatic confrontation with the Master of the Eight present? God knows what proof you might have produced and what would have happened to me then? Arrest, imprisonment, execution! Or, if not that, disgrace or exile? I had to do it!' Enrico's eyes widened. 'You are not Florentine, Shallot. You don't understand the blood feud. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life!' His face grew hard and my heart sank as I saw his hands going under the table again. 'They killed my father, they killed my uncle. They took me into their house and used my wealth. They married me to that bitch on heat!' The skin on his face grew tight, his whole body seemed to quiver with rage. 'Lord, how they must have laughed at me behind their hands!'
Enrico wiped the froth from his lips.
'I warned them.' He chuckled strangely. ‘I sent the owl, the harbinger of doom.' He smiled down at me. 'That succeeded brilliantly. I thought it would be found dead in the garden, but to fly and drop dead in here.' His face became grave. 'I took it as a sign, a sign of God's approval.'
'What happens if you are wrong?' I asked desperately, trying to gain time.
'What do you mean?'
'What if the Albrizzis did not murder your father? What if your father was murdered by the Medici? They took the emerald then sowed these ideas so you would become their agent in the destruction of the Albrizzis. Have you been to the Albrizzi Palace? A painting of Cardinal Giulio as a young man hangs on the wall. It shows him wearing the emerald that Lord Francesco gave to King Henry. The Medici killed your father. They suborned Preneste, who must have supplied the details about your father's fatal journey to Rome. Why else would the Cardinal Giulio promise Preneste he would take care of him? And did you know,' I added, for good measure, 'that the mercenary Giovanni was a Medici spy?'
Enrico blinked. 'What evidence do you have?' He cocked his head to one side. 'What proof can you show? How would the Medici gain from the death of my father? Did they profit like the Albrizzi, setting themselves up as my guardians? No, no.' He put his hand back on to the table and drummed his fingers. 'The Albrizzis were guilty, and have paid for their sins. Vengeance has been satisfied and you, Master Shallot, have two choices. Either you are with me or I'll kill you and your master and blame it on Giovanni.'