A Brood of Vipers

build and how to live. The palace was extraordinary. We went up some steps into a large courtyard with a fountain in the middle, the water cascading from a bowl held by a beautiful nymph carved in ivory. We crossed this court and entered a garden curiously devised with laurel trees, thickets of bay, closely shaded walks, great ponds of water and statues of every variety, mostly carved out of marble. In one corner, so Maria whispered, was a curious ice-house with a cool cellar under it where the melting ice dropped down upon barrels of wine, thus keeping them fresh.
    Chamberlains met us, arrogant men in their Medici colours with the Medici balls, the family coat-of-arms, emblazoned on their tunics. They took us up through sumptuous galleries where paintings hung on the walls next to hangings of cloth of gold and the purest velvet with all sorts of devices depicted there – birds, trees, flowers and strange landscapes. In every room people worked or lolled. I noticed the number of men, some in half-armour, all wearing swords and daggers, who guarded the galleries, doors and antechambers. Cardinal Giulio had his principal chambers at the centre of this opulent web. He awaited us in a beautiful, high-domed room, the walls painted gold and silver and every inch of the floor covered in pure wool rugs. He sat at a desk near a large window overlooking the square, dictating letters – to princes and prelates all over Europe – to five or six clerks working at desks on either side of his own.
    For a while we just stood watching him. At last the cardinal took notice of us, studying us carefully with those hooded eyes as he fingered the gold tassel of his purple robe. He held up a finger. A curiously contrived clock fashioned out of ivory and gold, which sat on the ledge above a cavernous fireplace, chimed musically and then struck the noon day hour. As the last chime died, the cardinal picked up and rang a silver handbell. He clasped his hands, the clerks disappeared and he waved us forward. We walked towards him in a strange silence, because the woollen floor coverings and the heavy drapes on the walls deadened every sound. We knelt and kissed his purple-gloved hand. The rubies on his fingers could have bought half of England. Once the courtesies were finished, he led us over to a small, velvet-draped alcove and sat us down beneath a beautiful painting of Adam and Eve being tempted by the serpent. I remember it vividly, because the naked woman depicted there was one of the most beautiful and life-like I had ever seen. Cardinal Giulio sat opposite us on a small, throne-like chair, a fixed smile on his smooth, olive face. I felt nervous at the prolonged silence and wished those black mutes outside had not so expertly taken our sword belts from us. I looked across the room at the clock, which Benjamin seemed fascinated by.
    'A present from the Emperor Charles,' the Cardinal said quietly. 'He is fascinated by clocks. Did you know that?'
    (At the time I didn't. I knew little about the square-jawed Hapsburg emperor, Charles V, but in time I got to know him well. He was one of the most curious men I have ever met. He was obsessed with time and surrounded himself with clocks of every contrivance. I went to visit him just after he retired to a monastery to prepare for death. The whole bloody place was ticking with clocks, so many you could even hear them in the courtyard. Ah well, that's time!)
    The cardinal drummed one purple-gloved hand on the arm of the chair. He glanced at the clock, then half-turned to stare at us. 'Everyone,' he murmured, 'sends presents to Florence.' I thought he was asking us if we had brought one. I stared dumbly back.
    'The present you brought,' he continued, 'is of the most exquisite variety, power.'
    I didn't know what he was talking about and glanced sideways at Benjamin. My master seemed fascinated by the cardinal and was studying him carefully. The cardinal stirred as if shaking himself from a reverie. 'I am sorry, some refreshments?'
    He must have pressed a device or a secret button in the chair, for a door concealed in the far wall opened. The black mute, whom I had seen with the cardinal at the Villa Albrizzi, came out with a tray bearing three tall-stemmed Venetian glasses. A blackamoor pageboy trotted beside him. The cardinal bowed his head imperceptibly. The mute lowered the tray, took a glass, sipped from it, then handed it to the cardinal, who went through the same ceremony before handing a