‘It is mine.’ His voice was steady and resolute. There was a note of finality in it. He rolled the parchment and handed it back.

The officers stood on either side of him, like bookends keeping him in place. They were big men who did not need to speak and their silence made them fearsome.

‘Vincenzio Fusili, I arrest you on suspicion of heresy. You will have the chance to defend yourself in front of the Great Council,’ Signore Rucellai said. Then he turned to Mamma Lucrezia and spoke in a gentler tone. ‘I will do my best to defend him, mistress.’

‘Do not fret, wife, I will be home soon,’ Papa said lightly.

The soldiers marched Papa down the stairs.

Mamma Lucrezia was weeping when Luna hurried to where she stood. She led her to the kitchen and made hot drinks of lemon and spice. They cupped the glasses to their cheeks, as though the heat would soothe their fears. Her step-mamma bit her lip and rocked in anguish.

‘Let me go to the monastery,’ Luna pleaded. ‘I will ask Friar Bartolomeo to help.’

‘Yes, you must go straight away, Leonarda, and tell him we demand his assistance.’ She did not rise when Luna gathered her cloak about her, only crossed herself in prayer.

Luna did the same, beseeching the Virgin Mary to protect her father, before slipping through the courtyard and into the street via the small side door.

*

Luna took the long way to the monastery. She turned left at the end of their road and hurried as best she could down the alleyway that led to the path that hugged the river bank. She was afraid, of what exactly she didn’t know, but the path by the river was more secluded than the main streets. Her stick clicked against the roughly hewn stone. She wrapped her cloak more tightly about her as she passed a team of dyers carrying cloth and then the miller’s factory, and a fresh determination caught her. She kept close to the line of trees.

Before long the path turned to a grassy track and wound its way up the hill towards the monastery. Luna had to force herself to go carefully, watching where she set each boot down and holding firmly to her walking stick, when really she wanted to rush on.