The most sensible course of action was to plead his daughter’s case to Signore Palagio and ensure the marriage contract remained secure. That loathsome man would no doubt take great pleasure in Vincenzio’s fawning, but he would do it. Once the contract was signed, he anticipated the usual early wedding presents from Guido for Maria—gems and luxurious clothes—and fully expected them to be extravagant, as Tommaso Palagio’s pride demanded. His son’s status would be reflected in their grandeur after all. Vincenzio would pawn the items and use the funds to discharge his debts. There would be ample time for him to purchase them back, albeit at a vastly inflated rate, before Maria would be expected to wear them at the wedding festivities.

He sighed and stood up, stretching his neck from side to side till he heard it crack. The Lord sent him challenges and he would meet them with faith and courage. At least he’d get wine in the tavern and his family would be home by now and Filippo safely recovering. He must be thankful to God for saving his son.

Vincenzio turned out of the square towards the tavern. He walked with an assured swagger, making a point of nodding politely when he passed a familiar face. The streets were busy and a number of the preacher’s followers roamed from house to house. He had no desire to fall under their scrutiny and quickened his pace. If Savonarola had evidence to prove he’d been in league with Roberto and was working to return Piero to his seat in the Signoria, then surely he’d have been arrested by now. So that meant the preacher’s antics during Mass were a warning and that was the best that he could do. Vincenzio felt a rapid flush of hot blood inflame his chest at the memory of Filippo falling, but the preacher’s provocation had not borne fruit. Thank God he hadn’t said anything to condemn himself. Still, he would forever feel guilty about exposing Filippo to such danger. Roberto’s death should have been a warning. Certainly the note that accompanied Vincenzio’s copy of the Great Council’s proclamation was a direct threat. Yet he’d delivered his son to the viper’s nest. What nonsensical lunacy. What mad bravado.