A Brood of Vipers

made to fly into the house?' Benjamin tapped the side of his nose. 'Roger, what do owls love?' 'Mice.' 'Oh, don't be stupid!' 'Darkness, barns.' 'And if you released a bird, a young owl that had been poisoned, where would it fly to?' 'Straight for shelter.' Benjamin turned and pointed to the great open window. 'Well, the poor thing flew through there.' 'But who released it? Everyone was in the room with us.'
    'Were they?' Benjamin asked caustically. 'The two ladies perhaps. But it would be so easy to go out, release the bird and come back.' He looked up at the villa. 'Very clever,' he murmured. He pointed to the windows shuttered against the sunlight. 'Someone prepared this. Do you realize that's the only window open? Moreover, I am sure if that owl had died anywhere else it would have had the same effect. Some hysterical servant bounding in, bawling the news.' Benjamin rubbed his chin. 'But I do wonder who released it?' 'We must not forget the Master of the Eight!'
    'Aye,' Benjamin muttered. 'And we mustn't forget our meeting in Florence. Come, master swordsman, it's time we left.'
    By the time we returned to the villa the Albrizzi household had gone their separate ways. A physician had been called to attend to Alessandro's scratch. The two ladies were in their chambers with an attack of the vapours. Giovanni was in the stableyard, with our horses ready. Maria, standing some way off, held the reins of her little white donkey. The look on her face showed she had already clashed with Giovanni in her efforts to accompany us to Florence. I'd washed and changed my shirt after my sweat-soaked duel. My master had advised me to wash regularly in such a warm climate. it opens the pores,' he explained, 'and keeps the skin fresh. Otherwise' – he grinned – 'you can end up scratching and clawing at your codpiece fit to burst.'
    (A sensible man, my master. I only wish others, particularly the present queen, had his standards of cleanliness. Queen Elizabeth's idea of a bath is to dab rose water on her face and hands, then hide nature under numerous bottles of perfumes. I tell you this, the English court, at the height of summer, smells like a midden-heap. I once tried to pass my master's advice on to the queen, but she stared back horror-struck.
    'Bathe at Easter and Christmas!' she exclaimed. 'Don't be stupid, Roger! Warm water weakens the humours and ages the flesh.'
    Well, what could I do against the advice of some silly fart of a physician?)
    The sun was climbing in the sky when we left the Villa Albrizzi. You must remember it was still early in the morning. (The Italians rise just before daybreak and take their rest in the early hours of the afternoon.) At first Giovanni was taciturn, still frightened by that bloody owl, but my master had questions to put to him and was insistent. He conversed casually at first, complimenting Giovanni on his horse and his skill at riding, asking where he had been born and what campaigns he had fought in? Giovanni was like any soldier the world over and, as we ambled down the dusty track winding through the vine- and cypress-covered hills towards Florence, he explained how he had been a soldier for as long as he could remember. I listened intently, trying to ignore Maria, who rode behind Giovanni pulling faces and mimicking him.
    'So, you've always fought for Florence?' My master interrupted one rather boring story.
    'No, no. For a while I fought with the French. I even spent two years on your island. I was hired as a master gunner.'
    'You are skilled with the arquebus?' Benjamin asked innocently. 'As any in Europe,' Giovanni boasted.
    Then he realized what he had said and became taciturn again. Urging his horse forward, he hardly said a word until we reached the busy thoroughfare heading through Florence's northern gate.
    'I have seen you to the city,' he muttered. 'Now I must return.'
    Benjamin turned his horse, watched him go and smiled at me.
    'A Florentine mercenary who has worked for Henry of England and is skilled with an arquebus. Interesting, eh, Roger?'
    'I could have told you as much!' Maria spoke up heatedly. 'Giovanni's a treacherous bastard. He's one of those men who like killing. He's no different from the family he serves. The Lord Francesco may have been a bad man but he didn't have the blood lust of the rest.' She lowered her voice, for her exclamations in English had attracted the attention of other travellers. 'They are all violent. They would have laughed if Alessandro