When she turned again to the path two figures were walking towards her over the next hill. They were not so far away that she could pretend she hadn’t seen them and so she leant against her stick and waited. Her pulse raced. There was not a soul else on these hills. Her hosts were goodly people, but these fields were far from the house and it could be anyone approaching. She steadied herself and saw that it was two men with leather satchels slung across their chests. Her heart thumped as a familiar dread flooded her chest. She drew herself up to stand tall and firm but her racing heart slowed when she recognised Professor di Novara striding into view. His companion walked energetically, though was bent somewhat awkwardly. Wooden rods stuck out from the satchel he carried.

‘Good morrow, signorina.’ The professor bowed. ‘It is unusual for you to be this far from the villa.’

‘I came out walking and the goat’s path led me here.’ Her skirts billowed freely in the wind and she tried to hold them down, aware of how indecorous she must look.

‘It is a peaceful place, is it not?’

Luna turned to the professor’s companion. He was of the age she coupled with ignorance and spite in young men, about the same as that odious Guido Palagio. He was flushed with the exertion of walking and his cap had skewed sideways but he did not bother to right it.

‘May I introduce my student, Nicolaus Copernicus,’ Professor di Novara said as the young man bowed formally. She saw he had a job keeping the satchel from falling and rose with a determined swing of his shoulder. Luna stiffened though he did not seem to notice. Rather, he gave Luna a smile that drew her in despite her instincts.

‘I see you were not expecting company.’

The tilt of the young man’s brow made Luna blush. She felt him looking at her and stole a glance. ‘Good morrow to you, sire,’ she said then turned and hastily walked a few paces. She remembered that face. This was the man who had spoken out with such passion at the Academy. She untied the rope from around her hair and knotted it back round her waist. At least her skirts no longer lifted with the wind.

‘We will rest here.’ The professor doffed his cap to Luna before walking to a spot on the edge of the sparse orchard that faced his home. He dropped happily into the grass and pulled out a flagon of wine.

The young man, Nicolaus, sat by a tree and rested his back against the trunk. He pulled off his cap and scratched his head. Professor di Novara threw him the flagon.

‘What do you do out so early?’ Luna asked.