‘Words, only words. You know me; I am hot to anger, that is all. His men were threatening my son.’ He closed his eyes from the vision of Pippo’s body that flashed into his mind.

‘As I say, I will do my best, but I am the Justice and I must be seen to do my duty for the people.’

The men finished the rest of the wine in silence and Bernardo left Vincenzio alone. He tried to settle his thoughts in preparation for the trial to come. The preacher’s supporters would be there in numbers. He wondered if Tommaso Palagio would stand with him or against him. Bernardo would defend him as much as he could but his role as Gonfalonier kept him out of the thick of it. Vincenzio tried to remember the detail of the paper Luna had written but his attention had been distracted by the guards standing over him. That the Sun is the centre of the universe and immovable and that the Earth is not the centre and moves; that was it. He held his hands to his face and shook his head. Dear God, his daughter was a she-Devil, but he’d not let those guards or Bernardo or any man of Florence believe his daughter wrote such heretical nonsense. He’d rather defend himself against the charge, painful as it was, than suffer the ignominy of a daughter so corrupted, so beyond his control.

The door opened again and Vincenzio gathered his cloak before being led by a guard down to the court. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. This was not the Signoria; it wasn’t even the hall of the Great Council. This was a lowly courtroom. Surely a man of his standing deserved more respect than this? Vincenzio was livid and refused to speak. Despite his silence, discussion of his crimes and charges lasted from morning till the sext bells rang. The court broke for midday prayers and Vincenzio was returned to his room, where he demanded to see Bernardo.

‘You must get me in front of the Signoria,’ he urged his friend. ‘This pedestrian court is no place for one such as I. They discuss men who’ve drunk a season’s worth of my vineyard’s finest.’ Vincenzio breathed deeply. He would not panic. ‘Do you know they want to condemn me to death?’

‘I will form a meeting of the Great Council.’

Vincenzio sat back but his friend’s words gave him little relief. ‘We both know the Council is a collection of the flawed beings that make up most of the city’s motley citizens, not the men you and I know and admire. This is the preacher’s council, and I will not receive a fair hearing before it.’

‘Still, it is the way.’

So Vincenzio descended once more, to stand before a meeting of some two hundred citizens formed to discuss his case. He stood proud and tall but in truth his throat was parched and he’d not eaten since a piece of bread that morn. His spirits were raised, though, at the sight of Professor di Novara, who appeared to speak on his behalf. Vincenzio inclined his head enthusiastically at his friend.