Today the desks were piled with books, the jars of ink removed. No one sat bent over a parchment script. Another novice passed her, his arms full of books, and went to the table nearest the door, where he stacked them. Luna followed and watched as he took up a large sheet and added the titles to the list. These were the precious volumes waiting to be removed to their new location for safekeeping. A tingle of goosebumps ran across her arms. She watched how carefully the books were handled as two other novices approached and were each given a heavy stack that they carried away through the outer doors in the direction of the main church. The novice then unrolled a clean sheet of parchment and turned to a different table, also stacked with books. He began recording the titles. Luna saw her family name written at the top of the page and surmised these were the volumes from her father’s collection. She moved closer, making sure she didn’t disturb him. The young man worked in companionable silence as Luna rummaged through the stack he had yet to begin on. She ran her fingers down the pile of hard spines: the set of volumes of the Epitome of the Almagest of Joannes de Monte Regio. Very gently she pulled the first volume out, letting it fall into her hands. She rested her palm on the hard leather cover as though it were made of gold.

‘I will return this shortly,’ she said to the novice, and she lugged it back to her desk.

She sat and laid the heavy volume on the desk. It was as long as the length of the tabletop and when she lifted the front cover it fell back with a soft smack. On the opening page there was a detailed printed image: the author sitting beside his teacher, Ptolemy. Luna hoped it would reveal signs of their great intelligence but though it was a fine likeness, her eyes were drawn to the astrolabe above them. Gold paint shimmered on the rings representing the celestial circles and there were brilliantly coloured hoops for the equator and the tropics. She had heard of these globes that spun when pushed but had not seen one in person. The pages were crisp and she turned them slowly, holding her breath at each fold for fear of damaging her father’s precious volume.