Sky's Dark Labyrinth (16 page)

‘I think my patron is such a man as you describe.'

‘Who is he?'

‘Ah! The one thing I may not reveal to you. My master wishes to remain anonymous for … personal reasons.'

‘Is he an enemy of the Emperor?'

‘He is most noble, sir.' Kepler noted the response did not actually answer the question.

‘This would be the most private of transactions,' pressed the gentleman.

‘How old is he? I have to know that.'

‘Twenty-five.'

Perhaps too young to be scheming, thought Kepler.

‘He would of course pay you well for such expert advice.' The man produced a purse of money and rested it on the table. It looked full.

Vulgar, but effective
.

Kepler indicated an empty chair. ‘I'll need his precise date and time of birth.'

He made arrangements to hand over the chart a week from that meeting, saying that he did not want to rush things for such a noble client. In truth, he drew it up that very evening, intending to go to bed and perform the interpretation in the morning. Yet when he saw the arrangement of planets, something about the chart made him pause.

Then he realised, he had seen it before; if not the exact chart, then at least one very similar. He pulled down from the shelf his file of
reference
charts and blew the dust from the top of the pages. Flipping through them, he stopped at the one he had remembered. It was indeed similar but not identical, which was a relief. This was the chart he had drawn up, just for practice, relating to the previous English monarch, Queen Elizabeth.

Both this and the new chart displayed the planets suspended above the horizon on either side of the sky, caught either rising or setting. The aspect was perfect for balancing the individual, preparing them for greatness.

Excited at the prospects for his client's future, he wrote his
conclusions
in a gush. He then spent the rest of the night trying to deduce who the mysterious nobleman might be.

Lights were still burning inside the small house when Galileo arrived.
Just like Marina, a creature of the night
. He paused in the porch, wondering whether Giuseppe would be with her. Deciding it did not matter if he were, he knocked. From force of habit, he knocked gently – the way he used to.

It was some moments before the door opened a crack. ‘Galileo.' Marina's voice was soft, as if she were trying not to wake someone. She wore a simple silk robe, tied at the waist, that clung to the curves of her body. Galileo could see she wore nothing underneath.

‘I need to talk to you,' he said.

She opened the door. ‘I knew it would be you.'

The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her chestnut hair fell in waves to halfway down her back and her dark eyes were as potent as the day Galileo had first seen her, crossing that bridge in Venice a dozen years ago. Motherhood had rounded but not damaged her figure.

He walked past her, into the house. In the main room, embers glowed orange in the fireplace, the last of their warmth all but lost to the room. He stopped at the table and helped himself to a brandy, drank it straight down and poured another.

‘Bad night?' She placed herself carefully on the upholstered settle.

‘Fools, the lot of them, too full of wine to see straight. Most of them are convinced I put crystals in the tubes to trick them into seeing stars. Old Libri didn't even come to the gathering. Libri! Fool. The rest of them spent the whole time complaining of the cold.'

‘Perhaps they're not as well equipped as you to fight the chill,' she said passing her gaze over his paunch.

‘Is a man to be ridiculed for being successful enough to eat? I tell you, Marina, I'm learning as much about human stupidity as I am about the heavens. How could they not see the new stars? If only the
night had been a little clearer. Oh, listen to me: if only this, if only that.' Galileo rubbed his temple, letting his fingers roam upwards to touch his receding hairline. ‘So many now speak out against me that Grand Duke Cosimo's reputation is being damaged by his support for me. Even Kepler – Rudolph's imperial mathematician – is writing asking for witnesses to my discoveries, telling me of his need for an optical tube.'

‘Then send him one, let him verify your claims and put an end to all this fighting.'

Galileo scowled. ‘It's not that simple. I can't risk another astronomer owning an optical tube yet. Not before I complete my survey. These discoveries are mine to make.'

‘But you've sent so many out.'

‘To dukes and nobles, men of no initiative who will look at what I tell them to look at. I dare not send one to another astronomer,
especially
a Protestant astronomer. Yet, I can't ignore him. He's the only one who's shown any inclination to believe me.' A thought struck Galileo. ‘Perhaps I could send Kepler details of my latest discoveries coded into anagrams. That way no one can attack my claims, but should someone else stumble over them while waving around an optical tube, Kepler can prove my priority.' Galileo grinned. ‘And I hear that he wishes to leave Prague. I could recommend him to fill my post here at Padua.'

Marina tensed at the mention of Galileo's impending departure. He cursed himself for stumbling into the subject so inelegantly. ‘That's really what I came here to talk to you about,' he said. ‘I've secured places for the girls. They'll be safe in the convent until I can find them suitors.' He knew he should tell her the whole truth, but the words failed him.

She nodded, hugging herself. ‘When do you move to Florence?'

‘The Grand Duke's litter arrives for me on Thursday. I'll spend some time settling in and then I am to visit Rome, to present the optical tube to the Jesuits, maybe even to the Pope himself.'

‘How often will you return to the university here?'

‘Hardly ever.'

Marina looked so vulnerable. He lowered himself next to her, feeling the comfortable familiarity of her presence engulf him.

She seemed to feel it too. ‘Why did we never marry?' she asked.

‘There was no need. Our relationship was never a secret. I
acknowledged
the children.'

‘But you never let us live with you.'

‘I never saw another woman in all that time. I loved you all too much for that.'

‘Oh, I dare say you've been a better parent to Virginia than I, instructing her as if she were a son, teaching her music …'

‘There was nothing more to be gained by marriage.'

‘Especially to a girl with a Venetian accent.'

‘That's unfair.'

Her expression grew distant. ‘I used to wait with butterflies in my stomach for the Friday boat from Pisa. Every week I was convinced you wouldn't be there waiting for me at the other dock.'

‘And every weekend I was, until you fell pregnant with Virginia and I moved you here to Padua, so I could be close to you both.'

She glanced around the room. ‘And here I still am, as close as I ever got to living under the same roof – even after Livia and then Vincenzio were born.'

‘How is my boy?'

‘He's well. Giuseppe is good to him.'

‘I've made arrangements to continue transferring money to you for his upkeep.'

She nodded without looking at him.

‘Marina, there's something else I must tell you. It's about the girls' convent. It's not here in Padua. It's in San Matteo … in Florence.'

‘Florence!' Her head swung round.

Galileo got to his feet and leaned against the mantelpiece. ‘You can visit,' he said over his shoulder.

‘Promise me you will find them husbands, Galileo. They mustn't become nuns, Livia particularly …'

‘The Grand Duke's court is the best place for me to search.'

‘… she has too much spirit. You've always said how alike we are. I couldn't become a nun.'

‘So I remember,' said Galileo, calling up a hint of her secret smile and a cascade of intimate memories. The ache inside him blossomed
into longing. If only he had not become so busy. His neglect of her and their family was never because he did not care – and for years he had managed to see them at least once a week. ‘Marina …' He caught himself just in time, before he said something he would regret. He could so easily fall in love with her again. What did he mean
again
? He had never fallen out of love, just become ever more distracted by his work. Now his reward was a place at the court of Grand Duke Cosimo II in Florence, and with the optical tube he had a real chance of greatness. If he did not take this opportunity, he would hate himself, or, worse, resent Marina. Yet there was no way he could take her with him. She was not used to such circles and grandeur. She had simple needs and would flounder, and that would reflect badly on him. He swirled the last of the brandy and tipped it into his mouth.

The moment hung between them.

‘I didn't set out to find a replacement for you,' she said, ‘but you had grown so distant.'

He swallowed the apology that sprang to his lips. ‘I could see that you were attracted to Giuseppe the day he brought those first lenses.' The truth was that Galileo had quietly encouraged the affair, by arranging for the lens grinder to make his deliveries to Marina's house rather than to the university where Galileo worked. As the work to develop the optical tube had dragged on, so Marina's distraction had provided him with time. ‘I don't blame you,' Galileo said. ‘You're the same age as each other, and I grow older every day.'

Galileo avoided polished surfaces now, and had done so ever since the morning he had caught his reflection to see his father's ghost returned to haunt him. The snow-white streaks in his dark beard and the way his skin had toughened were all too familiar. His dark eyes remained the same but were now set below a thickening brow and tangled eyebrows, also reminiscent of his father's.

‘I miss you,' said Marina.

I miss you too, he wanted to say. ‘I ought to go.'

‘Of course,' she said without conviction, her eyes wide and inviting.

They had not slept together since Marina invited Giuseppe to her bed. Surprisingly at the time, Galileo had not missed the intimacy but, for some reason tonight, the lost passion was almost unbearable.

Marina slowly opened the front door, then reached up to straighten his hair. Her fingertips sparked against his skin. ‘Age does you no harm, you know. You're still as handsome as when I first knew you, maybe more so. Distinguished.'

He leaned down and quickly planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘Goodbye, Marina.'

All that remained of the midday meal was the smell of garlic hanging in the air. Father Grienberger threaded his way through the early afternoon crowds, using his height to see over the bobbing heads of those returning to work. Under his arm he carried a copy of the
Astronomia Nova
.

He had been feeling heady ever since receiving the book from the Jesuits in Prague, where there had been copies floating around the Imperial Palace. His excitement had quickened when he realised Kepler's epiphany: ellipses instead of circles. He found himself returning to the book time and time again until he had fixed the new meaning in his head. It was such a simple solution to such a complicated problem. All previous scholars had been hidebound by the unfounded assumption of the perfect circular orbit, the shape given credence only by its antiquity.

In addition, there was the news of Galileo's discoveries, which had run through the college like a forest fire. Times were changing, Grienberger could feel it, but to assimilate this new knowledge was going to be difficult. He needed advice.

There he is!

Bellarmine was sitting at a small table on a terrace, spooning food from a bowl. His red vestments set him apart from the merchants in their doublets, concluding their lunches over one last glass of wine.

Bellarmine raised the spoon again, a look of serene pleasure filling his face as he savoured the mouthful, and Grienberger thought how silly the cardinal looked relishing food in public. He approached, casting a shadow across the table.

‘Father Grienberger,' said Bellarmine with surprise.

‘Cardinal Pippe said I would find you here. I wanted to … Is that ice cream?'

‘One of the greatest inventions to have taken place in my lifetime. Sit down and enjoy some with me.'

Somehow the thought of the great theologian slipping out to indulge himself with ice cream was faintly disturbing. ‘No, thank you.'

‘Do at least sit so that I can stop looking up into the Sun at you.'

Grienberger perched, feeling uncomfortable now at being in such a public place and knowing what he had to say. He realised that in his excitement to find Bellarmine, he had not planned how to broach the subject. After a moment he said, ‘Remember when Father Clavius asked you to think about reconciling the new astronomy with theology. Well, the time has come.'

Bellarmine put down his spoon. ‘Explain.' After listening to Grienberger's animated explanation, he leaned back. ‘So Kepler
stumbles
on a mathematical trick to get the right answer. He
assumes
the Earth moves but cannot find any evidence to
prove
it. I think we need not concern ourselves,' he said easily.

‘You don't understand.' Grienberger tried again to explain the simplicity of the system, the accuracy of its predictions, the
obviousness
of it all from a mathematical standpoint, and its reliance on the Sun being the centre of everything. Yet, when Bellarmine's expression darkened, he stumbled over his words and eventually became
tongue-tied
. He riffled through the book, placed it in front of Bellarmine, and pointed out a passage.

Bellarmine scowled. ‘What is this gibberish?'

‘There's more.' Grienberger thumbed to another passage.

‘I have heard enough.' Bellarmine angrily slapped the pages over until the book was shut. ‘You admire this? Does Father Clavius believe this work?'

Grienberger nodded gravely. ‘The mathematics of it, yes. The
theological
justification is down to you.'

‘It is heresy. The Holy Spirit did not lie when dictating the Bible. Tell me, what do you know about an astronomer called Galileo? The Inquisition is hearing disturbing things about him. He's sending “glass tubes” to nobles throughout the Italian peninsula and beyond, currying favour by claiming to see new planets. He's apparently putting other discoveries in coded messages. Yet, he's sending nothing to Rome. What are we to make of this behaviour?'

A serving maid approached the table, intent on clearing away Bellarmine's bowl. He made to stop her but realised that his ice cream had melted. He slid the bowl towards her and his look of displeasure intensified.

‘Can we even believe his discoveries? I have heard that Father Scheiner in Ingolstadt is saying that the results are nothing but trickery, that he has seen through one of these but can see nothing.'

Grienberger chided himself for being so hasty in seeking Bellarmine's help. He had hoped to keep the next piece of information secret for a little longer, at least until the Jesuit craftsmen had succeeded in their work, but he could see that there was only one thing that would satisfy Bellarmine now. ‘Come with me, cardinal.'

In Grienberger's office was a long thick tube that had been carefully split lengthwise and opened out on his desk; inside it were a pair of convex lenses, one at either end of the tube.

‘This is all that one of Galileo's optical tubes is?' asked Bellarmine.

Grienberger nodded. ‘We intercepted it en route to the Duke of Bavaria.' He picked up the lenses and handed them one by one to Bellarmine, who lifted them to his eye and waved them around trying to get them to focus.

‘Pure glass, no tricks,' said Bellarmine. ‘Have you seen the things that Galileo describes?'

‘From the roof of the college before we took the tube to pieces. They are real. We're now making our own optical tubes. We'll rebuild this
one and send it on to the Duke. We have arranged for it to be loaned to Johannes Kepler.'

Bellarmine looked warily at Grienberger, who explained. ‘Kepler has been asking Galileo to provide him with the instrument, but Galileo has refused, making the excuse that he needs them for princes. It's as if he has something to hide. Father Guldin has agreed to make the arrangements in Prague. He was a Lutheran before converting to us so Kepler might view him sympathetically.'

Bellarmine replaced the lenses. ‘You should think yourself lucky that Cardinal Pippe is not here: doing favours for Lutheran heretics …'

‘We still hope to attract him to our ranks. From what I hear, Prague grows more unstable by the day.'

‘Indeed, but would we want Kepler any more? We may end up converting him just to tie him to a stake in the market square.' Bellarmine rubbed his baggy eyes. ‘Father Grienberger, I must know what we are dealing with. I trust the evidence of my eyes in preference to the pen-strokes of a Lutheran, no matter how eminent you say he is. As for Galileo …'

Grienberger spoke quickly. ‘We have already invited him to Rome. We're as anxious to meet him and understand his agenda as you.'

‘When were you going to tell the Inquisition this? Oh, no matter, when does he arrive?'

‘We expect him sometime in the next few weeks.'

‘Good. Let us see what Kepler makes of Galileo's findings – and let us see for ourselves what Galileo has to say. But tread carefully, Father Grienberger, you're on dangerous ground.'