Luna decided it was no longer the time to ask about the lepers’ Mass. Here was work that needed her attention. When her father stopped throwing books to the desk, he leant across and Luna saw a smaller pile on the shelf beside where he stood.

‘These are the precious volumes that I will entrust to Friar Bartolomeo for safekeeping.’

He added one to that stack, then tossed another carelessly down to the table, followed by another and then a fourth. Luna arranged the volumes on the table into neat towers. She recognised a recently published collection of musings from a local Florentine writer, one her father would not allow her to read. Near it was the first in Marsilio Ficino’s Three Books on Life from which her father gave her step-mamma recipes to aid his headaches. She remembered the man from the few times she’d seen him at her father’s gatherings. A most learned and soft-hearted individual, who she’d always thought would have encouraged her to read his works.

‘Would you allow me to borrow a book?’ she asked.

‘If it’s one of those on the table, I see no issue. More than likely they will end up in the preacher’s bonfire anyway. But these,’ he motioned to the smaller pile on the shelf beside him, ‘you may not take any from there.’ He reached across the shelf for another volume and passed a small text down to her. It landed lightly in her hands. ‘It’s a shame your Greek is not better; a true scholar must be versed in the ancient languages.’

She read the words of the title, ignoring his comment.

‘What will I do without my Aristotle or Plato?’ He gestured to the shelf as he reached for another book and lifted it to his nose. Luna loved the smell of a favourite book too. Then he added it to his small selection. ‘So much knowledge to be put to the fire in the name of our Lord. Damnation to Savonarola.’

Luna ran her hand across the leather-bound cover. ‘I cannot believe they will really burn our books.’

‘Only the Lord’s word is sacred enough for the preacher.’

‘Do you think they will come to us like they did the Canturis?’

‘His eye bears in our direction.’

‘It is not right they can take from people’s homes.’

‘I do not intend for them to take my prized volumes. Friar Bartolomeo is hiding his books to save them; we must do the same.’ He scratched his head, peering up at the laden shelves. ‘We need only gather the most important texts: Pythagoras, Cicero, Pliny the Elder, Plutarch, Philolaus, Heraclides, Ecphantos, Plato. The rest I can afford to lose.’