She shrank behind the pillar and stood quite still. Her heart boomed loud as a church bell in her head. The charge shouted by Signore Palagio was enough to stifle the enthusiasm for debate. They were a confident pack bunched together, stronger like that. The professor stood tall at the lectern and glared furiously as others turned and left. No one wanted to challenge the preacher’s men, they were each as insecure as the next whilst his authority still ruled. Not even the learned Professor di Novara’s reputation was enough reason to remain at a forum where the word blasphemy had been decried against the gathered many. Friar Savonarola’s punishments came swift and unmeasured, upon not just the individual but on all others close enough to catch the eye of his men.

Luna rubbed her hands down her tights and did not move.

Eventually, Professor di Novara stepped down and left the lecture room and its audience.

‘Come, we will find the professor outside.’ Papa took her by the arm and they left the rotunda. In the first room, she looked about; some brave men stood in groups talking, but others made their way to the outer doors. Luna felt her heart begin to slow. She followed her father to a large group who welcomed them into their circle. Bernardo Rucellai was talking and Luna noticed a few other familiar faces. The professor was amongst them. There was a deceptive lightness in the conversation that centred on his forthcoming journey back to Bologna. Luna listened without paying too much attention. She was fascinated by the freedom of the boys’ clothes. How easily she moved without the weight of tight bodices or that feeling of catching a foot in the length of her skirt as she walked. It was liberating.

‘An interesting point,’ her father said, reaching out to greet Professor di Novara.

‘My friend, Vincenzio, it is good to see you.’ The professor turned to Luna next and nodded formally in greeting. She bowed as judiciously as she could though she chose not to speak. The professor’s gaze lingered; any longer and he’d surely realise she was no boy.

‘May I introduce a most unusual young student,’ Papa said by way of introduction. His voice dipped smoothly.

‘I am always pleased to see the youth of today amongst my audience. What did you make of the debate?’

Luna felt her father’s subtle prod. She could hear his heavy breathing though her own had stopped.

‘Speak, boy.’

The circle of gentlemen waited.

‘Vincenzio, we need students who are unafraid to voice their opinions. So many have been stifled by the preacher whom your city adores; at least here I had expected to find the bold and disobedient, like young Nicolaus Copernicus.’ The professor’s voice didn’t hold any malice. He spoke genially enough, assuming his words would encourage Luna to speak.