The noise dropped and the people settled as the preacher stepped to the pulpit. This was the time for godly reflection. Vincenzio had to squint to see anything through the stream of sunlight. It was very clever the way the preacher stood in the halo of luminosity, just as he spoke of the divine light the Lord had sent to him. All around, people murmured in agreement with his words and Vincenzio was astounded. Was he the only sane man to hear the brittleness in the hollow-cheeked voice? How could Savonarola speak of a new era of universal peace whilst ransacking the homes of good citizens and banishing others? Discord was growing and word had travelled that Florence was become unstable, yet the people believed the preacher’s promise of riches, glory and power.

Luna leant over and grasped his hand; he’d not expected that. Her eyes were bright and he saw straight away she’d been beguiled like all these other fools; the fickle nature of her female emotions was no match for Savonarola.

After what seemed a tediously lengthy wait, Vincenzio finally stepped up to accept the blessed sacrament. One day, his place would be amongst the seats of honour, but for now he must ensure his actions did not raise the Great Council’s suspicions. Perhaps it were best he did not travel so soon after a Medici spy was killed in the city. He must think carefully on the risks.

Once back with his family, he dipped his head closer to Lucrezia. ‘I may have cause to delay my journey to Pistoia.’

His wife’s face dulled. ‘You disappoint me. Some good news right now would be most welcome.’

‘I do what I must to ensure this family’s safety and our future,’ he said through gritted teeth.

Finally the Mass concluded and the family began the slow move towards the exit. Vincenzio felt a hand grab his shoulder and jumped like a rooster in a snake pit. But Friar Bartolomeo only indicated he should follow as he slipped through the crowd. Vincenzio joined him behind one of the side pillars.

‘God’s blessings on you,’ Friar Bartolomeo said in greeting.

‘And on you,’ Vincenzio replied curtly. ‘I did not expect you here.’

The friar looked about before leaning in closer. ‘I had to speak with you; we had visitors at Santa Croce earlier this morn. They were rooting around for illuminated manuscripts and objects of wealth to confiscate, or so they said.’ His voice shook a little.

Vincenzio thought of what his wife had just told him and it seemed that what she’d witnessed in the street was not a random raid but more likely part of the organised approach they’d all been waiting for.

‘They have begun confiscating things, then? I will send my books to you for safekeeping in the crypt.’