A Brood of Vipers

other loose. Now, I have met strange priests but Preneste was one of the strangest. Never once did I come across a breviary or crucifix, rosary or medal. The man hadn't just dabbled in the black arts but steeped himself in them. I recoiled in disgust as I handled the dry corpse of a toad, the yellowing skull of a monkey and a book of spells. Benjamin searched amongst the other coffers and chests, but found nothing. He tiptoed across to me. 'Where would a man like Preneste hide something secret?'
    I picked up the candles and stared around. There were no pictures or hangings on the wall. I rapped the floorboards, but this was no English manor with joists and beams. I gazed at the bed. I remembered the head-board, with its small wooden panels. I pulled back the drapes, climbed on to the bed and, with Preneste staring ghoulishly up at me, began to tap at these panels. One sounded hollow. I grinned at Benjamin.
    'God knows why, Master, but people always think their beds are the safest places.'
    The wood was thin. I punched a small hole with my dagger, then paused, wondering whether the slight noise would arouse attention. However, apart from the thudding of my own heart, J heard nothing except the cries of the night birds from the garden and Benjamin's heavy breathing behind me. I broke the wood away. 'They'll ask questions in the morning, Master,' I grunted.
    'Then they'll have to accuse each other!' Benjamin hissed. 'I doubt if this family would care very much.'
    I snapped away the wood. Somewhere there must be a secret mechanism or lever. Inside I felt a metal spring and, putting my hand deeper down, I drew out a small leather pouch. I handed this to Benjamin, who cut the cord at its neck and took out the manuscripts it contained. He sat on the bed as if he and Preneste were old friends and studied the manuscripts. Two were spells. One was a letter from the Lady Bianca addressed to a 'Bellissimo'. Even with my limited knowledge of the tongue I could, following Benjamin's finger, see that it was a love letter, which Preneste must have intercepted for the purpose of blackmail. 'What if these murders are quite distinct?' I asked. 'You mean the Lord Francesco was killed for one reason and Matteo and Preneste for another?' He shook his head. 'But the means are always the same. I wonder if the Lady Bianca would stoop to murder to hide her infidelities?' He put the letter on the bed and undid another. Written in Latin, it was from no less a person than the Prince Giulio de Medici. The parchment was of high quality, though yellowing with age. Dated years earlier, the letter was 'To my good friend and ally, Gregorio Preneste'. Prince Giulio thanked Preneste for his services and promised that he would use all his power to ensure that Preneste received advancement in the household of Lord Francesco Albrizzi. 'So simple and so obvious,' Benjamin murmured. 'So why hide it away?'
    I was about to reply when I heard a floorboard creak in the gallery outside. We both froze, not even daring to breathe, but heard no further sound. We went back to the letter. At one moment I heard a click, but thought it was one of the night sounds of the house. Benjamin insisted on examining the cavity in the bedhead himself. I, still alarmed by what I had heard, got up and walked towards the door. I slipped and had to steady myself. I looked down and saw a glassy, watery substance on the floor. At first I thought it was one of the dead magician's potions but, bending down carefully, I dipped my finger and smelt it. 'Oil,' I whispered. Now, you must remember that my wits were dulled. Slipping and cursing, I made my way to the door and tried the latch, but it was locked. I heard heavy breathing on the other side and the sound of a tinder striking. I charged back across the room, even as the flame licked under the door. It caught the oil and a sheet of fire raced across the room. Within a minute the room, or at least half of it, was turned into a raging inferno. We scrabbled at the shutters, but they too were locked. I knocked the clasps loose with the pommel of my dagger. The night air rushed in, fanning the flames. Benjamin and I pushed ourselves through on to a small ledge and jumped into the darkened garden.
    We were lucky enough to fall into a flower bed and the drop wasn't too great. I was immediately sick with fright. I crouched like a dog behind a bush. I retched and coughed, uttering every filthy curse I knew, whilst Benjamin rubbed his sprained