He’d meet with this agent and get the answers he needed but for now, he must dispatch this note to Piero. Vincenzio’s fingers closed firmly across the seal on the rolled parchment that told of Roberto’s safe arrival. He looked one way and then the other; no sign of the messenger. Beyond the garden wall, his daughter sat. He’d brought Luna out to view the stars thinking he’d only be gone briefly but still he waited. A cat skittered across his path and he kicked out at it, muttering under his breath. He hung back in the shadows against the wall. He must not be seen. The minutes passed and he paced back and forth. How long must he wait? He glanced briefly towards the gate, thinking of Luna sitting by the pond. She would be worrying, or worse, about to appear; she did have an unusual need to know his whereabouts. When Giulia birthed a crippled girl-child, he’d accepted it as God’s punishment, though he questioned what sin he’d committed graver than any other young man to deserve such a blow. He supposed he’d find out when his day of reckoning came, though he hoped his benevolence towards Luna would right whatever were his sins in the eyes of the Lord. He stamped his feet. If he’d been blessed with a son seventeen years ago, it would be him waiting in the dark right now. His mind turned momentarily to Filippo. The Lord had eventually answered his prayers with a healthy, robust son who would grow to be a capable and strong heir to the Fusili name. He frowned; Filippo was to sing with Savonarola’s choir at Mass in two months’ time. Vincenzio had not been able to say no when all the good families of Florence had embraced the preacher’s request, though it made him nervous. Another reason to be especially cautious in his dealings with this Medici agent.

Another cat slunk from the shadows and perched nearby, looking up at him expectantly. He kicked out again and felt the reward of its softness against his boot. Where on Earth was the man? He peered left and right once more. He knew Luna’s curiosity would get the better of her soon enough. At least she’d be slow. Luna was clever, though he had to admit Lucrezia was right: his daughter had passed the age where being precocious was acceptable. He felt a stirring of compassion for his little moon, but there was no cause for pity. He had her future in mind and it would come down to patience and diplomacy, both of which he understood.

He heard footsteps and a figure came into view. Vincenzio hurried to greet him and the two moved to a doorway that hid them beneath its eaves.

‘Here is the letter.’ He thrust the rolled parchment into the man’s hand.