There was a knock at the door and Friar Bartolomeo appeared. He was welcomed by them all, mostly by Luna, who deemed his timely arrival a sign from God. Mistress Palagio seemed pleased to have him join them. She clearly enjoyed parlaying with a gentleman; her voice dripped with honey. At least her attention had turned away from Luna, who was trying to hide the colour she felt rising along her neck. She’d not been insulted so directly since the boy at Mass had spat words of hate her way. She’d lost her temper then but she would not do so now. She turned and walked to a settle that sat against the wall. No one commented.

Mamma Lucrezia patted a spot beside her guest for Maria and the conversation turned to the Mass when Filippo would join the preacher’s boys.

‘The fanciulli will sing a new lauda as Friar Savonarola enters. No one has yet heard it, except for the families of the choir boys of course,’ Friar Bartolomeo told the ladies. Luna saw how much he enjoyed being the bearer of news.

‘Such an honour,’ Mamma Lucrezia murmured.

Their guest listened with middling interest. Luna watched Signora Palagio drink the wine her step-mamma offered and eat the sweetmeats put in front of her without compliment. The woman’s eyes roamed from Mamma Lucrezia to Maria and frequently to the portrait of a young Vincenzio hanging on the wall.

‘It is an excellent likeness, is it not?’ Mamma Lucrezia commented.

‘I know the master painter, Sandro Botticelli; he was supposed to come to paint me next. Now, though, he tells us he will not paint again for fear of God’s wrath. I’ve told my husband to insist on it. I suppose this one was done a few years ago?’

Mamma Lucrezia nodded. ‘Indeed, before he was everybody’s favourite. My husband has an eye for a good painter.’

Friar Bartolomeo wandered over and sat beside Luna atop the upholstered cushions decorated with flowers and hares and prancing unicorns. Luna thought they must look out of place, a grey-robed monk and a plain cripple on so much glorious colour, but the friar nodded to her casually.

‘How are you faring, my student?’ he asked.

‘I am trying not to make it so plain how much I hate this, but from your question, I think I am failing,’ she replied.

He chuckled and nodded. ‘To someone who knows you as well as I, indeed you are! Though I do not think the lady can tell or cares if you are uncomfortable. She seems more interested in the sweetmeats.’

Sure enough, their guest was putting one more into her mouth as Friar Bartolomeo spoke. Luna had to stop from laughing.

‘Have you been reading the text I gave you?’ he asked.