Sky's Dark Labyrinth (23 page)

So, why stay in Prague when everything reminded him of what he had lost? He had written to her asking whether she could look after the children while he went on to Linz to claim the job as District Mathematician, teaching in a small school in a Lutheran stronghold, and she had readily agreed.

Kepler left the house two months after Barbara's funeral with his son and daughter and all the possessions he cared for. As the three of them huddled together on the wagon, the clouds broke. Hunched beneath their cloaks and hats, Ludwig started crying and Susanna did her best to distract him by dancing Astrid on his knees. The rain cascaded from the high roofs to gather on the earth and run in rivulets down the streets. Frau Bezold waved them goodbye and shrank into the background as the wagon rolled off into the cold greyness. Soon, she was lost to the crowds, and Kepler stopped looking back.

The city's beleaguered inhabitants were doing their best to go about their business but waiting in line at the various checkpoints made everything slow and tense. After several anxious moments at the city gate, the family left Prague behind. Some way beyond the city walls, they came across a column of Matthias's troops, heading back in. They were returning from a mopping-up operation in the surrounding
countryside
. In their midst was a column of prisoners, shuffling barefoot in the mud. Red welts showed at their ankles and wrists where the shackles chafed, and chains swung between each man, draped from one iron collar to the next.

Kepler nearly exclaimed, for there among them was Tengnagel, looking as miserable and bedraggled as the others. Their eyes locked. There was a strange expression of anguish on the captive's face as he stared at Kepler and the wagon of possessions behind the family.

Peeping out from between the waterproof coverings were the tattered corners of Tycho Brahe's astronomical ledgers.

Cardinal Robert Bellarmine tutted loudly. It was the nearest he had come to anger in a long time. For a moment, he thought he might succumb to temper, an aspect of his personality he thought he had left behind, along with his youth, at some point during the last seventy years.

He put his usual equanimity down to having seen so much that it was impossible to be surprised any more; or simply that he could no longer muster the energy. Whichever was the true explanation, he did not care at the moment. He suppressed the angry impulse and spoke. ‘Most people become wiser with age, but I swear you become more impudent.'

‘But you must resent him a little,' said Cardinal Pippe.

‘I am his loyal servant, how could I resent His Holiness?'

‘Because he was appointed instead of you. Until the last minute, everyone thought you were going to be Pontiff.'

‘That was eleven years ago. How do you dream up these fantasies?'

They were sitting in Bellarmine's office. Pippe sprawled in an
upholstered
chair in front of the desk. ‘You must look at him and say to
yourself
, “That could have been me.”'

Bellarmine narrowed his eyes at the younger cardinal. ‘No, I do not. This conversation is closed. We have far more serious matters to consider today.'

Bellarmine returned his attention to a letter that had been forwarded to the Office of the Inquisition. There were seventy
cardinals
in Rome, all serving the Pope as advisors and preaching to the city's inhabitants. As inquisitors, Bellarmine and Pippe had the
additional
role of combating the spread of Protestantism and, to do that, they needed to be constantly alert for those seeds of doubt that could grow into heresy.

This letter, as with all the serious cases, ended up on Bellarmine's desk. He picked up a hand lens and read through the contents once
more. There was no doubt about it; this particular seed had put down roots and needed weeding out.

The silence was broken by a knock on the door.

Bellarmine glanced at Pippe, who took it as his signal to open the door. He greeted the new arrival. ‘My aching legs thank you for making the journey across the city today.'

‘The least I could do,' said Father Grienberger.

‘My condolences on the passing of Father Clavius. He will be greatly missed.'

‘You are very kind, Cardinal Bellarmine. He was a mentor to us all.'

‘Indeed. He was a loyal servant to the Inquisition Office. And my congratulations on your promotion to Professor of Mathematics.'

‘Thank you. I hope to be a loyal servant to your office, too.'

Bellarmine spread his bony fingers across the letter. ‘This is suspected of containing heresy, and I have been charged with its investigation.'

‘Who wrote it?'

‘Galileo.'

Grienberger's expression wavered, sparking Bellarmine's curiosity.

‘He claims that his discoveries have proven Copernicus. And he is playing at theology to justify a Sun-centred universe,' said Bellarmine.

Grienberger tapped a finger to his mouth before speaking in an undertone. ‘Galileo must be stopped. We cannot risk him provoking a papal decision at this delicate time.'

Bellarmine became impatient. ‘Why not? Wouldn't it be better just to bring an end to this talk, once and for all? I thought we had an
agreement
: Galileo would stick to describing his discoveries as facts but attempt no justification or interpretation.'

Grienberger glanced at Pippe, who was sitting with his arms folded looking stern, and back at Bellarmine. ‘May I speak in confidence?'

Bellarmine concealed his annoyance with a nod.

Grienberger spoke without lifting his gaze, as if addressing the leather on Bellarmine's desk. ‘Galileo now has clear evidence that Aristotle's arrangement of the planets cannot be correct.'

Bellarmine pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Explain, please.'

‘Some time ago he sent word of a discovery to Prague. He coded it in the form of an anagram.
Haec immatura a me iam frustra leguntuory
…'

‘These immature things I am searching for now in vain,' Pippe
translated
. ‘It makes no sense.'

‘… the solution is: Cynthiae fuguras aemulatur mater amorum.'

‘The mother of love emulates the shape of Cynthia. I am none the wiser,' said Bellarmine.

‘Galileo alludes to the fact that Venus displays the same crescent to gibbous phases as our Moon. We, too, have charted this with our
telescopes
at the college.'

‘What does it prove?'

‘As well as changing phases, the planet grows bigger and smaller as it approaches and then recedes from the Earth. The way it does these two things together can only be explained if Venus moves around the Sun.'

Pippe gasped.

‘We are sure of our observations; there is no mistake. Venus orbits the Sun, not the Earth.' Grienberger sounded grave.

‘And Galileo knows this?' asked Pippe.

Grienberger nodded slowly.

‘Then he is dangerous,' said Pippe, rising from his seat.

Bellarmine steepled his fingers. ‘When were you going to tell us of these things?'

‘With a matter of such magnitude we preferred to collect more observations of the other planets before approaching the
theologians
. We think Mercury behaves in the same way, but we need more observations to confirm this. If so, both are clearly in orbit around the Sun.'

‘You no longer have the luxury of time.' Bellarmine lifted the letter.

Grienberger spoke quickly. ‘It would be better if this matter were conducted quietly. We have representatives in Florence who could talk to Galileo, reason with him.'

‘You're too late. Galileo has returned.'

‘To Rome?'

‘Trying to gain another audience with His Holiness, to justify his letter.'

‘That cannot happen.'

‘Oh, we will see to that,' said Bellarmine, ‘but from what you say, you actually favour a rethinking of astronomy.'

Pippe threw his arms in the air. ‘On the say-so of this Galileo?'

‘On the say-so of the Roman College,' Grienberger corrected. ‘We have our own telescopes. We have made our own studies. There is no doubting these observations, but if His Holiness is provoked into a hasty ruling against Galileo, it could set us back decades – perhaps centuries.'

Pippe stared at Grienberger. ‘We cannot go rearranging the heavens. God placed the orbs just as he placed each and every one of us in our correct stations. After our lifetime of faithful service, we receive our reward in Heaven. If we start rearranging the planets, what's to stop people rearranging their lives? No one will know what to believe. There will be mass panic. Society will break down. What will prevent the peasants demanding land or riches? They could reject our authority altogether.'

‘Calm yourself, Cardinal Pippe.' As Bellarmine spoke, he felt a
restless
urgency.
Panic
– another sensation Bellarmine had thought banished to his youth. The universe was coming apart around them, and not even the Jesuits knew how to stitch it back together.

Pippe looked at him pleadingly. ‘Even if these observations are correct, we must suppress them. There's no sin in concealing a truth if it serves a higher purpose. The simple folk will not know how to
interpret
this.'

Bellarmine hoped he appeared more confident than he felt. ‘Gentlemen, we have a lot of work to do and not much time to do it. Here is what I propose …'

Galileo crunched across the gravel outside the Tuscan ambassador's residence. His arthritis was back, gnawing at his joints, and the white of his beard had crept to his head since he'd last stayed in Rome. He defied both reminders of age, forcing himself to move with the speed of a younger man.

Clouds of impatience gathered inside him as he waited. As time stretched on, they became droplets of doubt that his visitor would keep the appointment. Galileo circumnavigated the knee-high hedges of the formal gardens, wondering what he would do if the young cardinal did renege on his promise.

A footman stood in the doorway, supposedly to attend to Galileo's needs but really to keep an eye on him. Since his arrival this time,
Galileo had been regarded with suspicion. The ambassador made his reluctance to offer hospitality perfectly clear and lectured the astronomer on the importance of keeping a low profile.

Galileo dismissed it all as the product of a timid mind and considered having a quiet word with the Grand Duke when he returned to Florence. The ambassador was clearly the wrong man for the job.

This morning, in preparation for his visitor, Galileo had read through his new manuscript once more. Before leaving his apartment, he had wrapped the papers around his left forearm and slipped on his jacket. Now, arms folded, he held the precious document in place.

He stayed close to the fountain. The splash of the water would help mask their conversation – if the cardinal ever appeared.

A flap of robes emerging from the house drew his attention.

At last
, thought Galileo, straightening himself.

The cardinal hurried down the villa steps and across the courtyard. What little was visible beyond the yards of red silk betrayed his youth. His cherubic features were as yet unblemished by the ability to grow a full beard. He was quite out of breath when he stopped in front of Galileo and clearly embarrassed.

‘I am new to Rome. I lost my way.' His voice was so thin that Galileo strained to hear it over the gurgling of the fountain.

The footman watched from the doorway.

‘It is of no matter … my name is Galileo Galilei.'

‘I know who you are, signor. I am Alessandro Orsini and I am humbled to be in your presence. I have read your books and letters. You are a great philosopher.'

Galileo felt the tension ebb from his lower back. ‘I am pleased that you have understood what too many so-called philosophers have failed to recognise. If my work has taught me anything, it is that it takes a certain youthfulness of mind to appreciate my ideas. They are
revolutionary
.'

‘Some say dangerous.'

‘The Holy Office?'

Orsini nodded.

‘You see, this is how I am treated; gagged, while my enemies are given free rein to speak against me.'

‘A letter of yours aroused their suspicions. You are under investigation.'

‘And that is why we have to act decisively. I believe that my enemies have introduced errors into the copies, designed to incriminate me. I have written a fuller account, more detailed, which includes a
discussion
of the tides. This proves the Earth moves through space. If it could be shown to His Holiness, I believe the matter could be brought to a swift conclusion.'

The cardinal swallowed. ‘You wish me to show something to His Holiness?'

‘We must act now before these ideas are banned by those who would block progress. It is people like you who will have to live with the injustice if the closed minds win.'

Orsini tugged his ear nervously. ‘I shouldn't even be talking with you.'

‘I wish only to clear my name. You say you have not long been in Rome – do you know the Campo dei Fiori?'

‘The piazza, yes.'

‘And you know the name Giordano Bruno.'

‘The heretic.'

‘Then you know what happened to him in the piazza.'

‘Burned alive,' Orsini whispered.

‘Do I deserve that same fate?'

Orsini looked at Galileo, eyes wide.

‘It is a matter of life and death, cardinal.'

Orsini was breathing deeply. ‘If I show this to His Holiness …'

‘You will be doing the Catholic world a great service, Alexander.'

‘It's Alessandro, signor.'

‘A name that will doubtless be remembered for its part in bringing God's truth to the wider Catholic world. This will make your name in Rome. Will you do it?'

The young man thought long and hard. He swallowed again and looked up. ‘Yes, in the name of truth, I will.'

Galileo turned his back to the footman at the villa and slid the
manuscript
from his sleeve.

There was a harsh rap on Bellarmine's office door. The Swiss Guards burst in before he could answer. The quartet's leader informed him that he was summoned at once to see Paul V and they marched him
off, sandwiched between their striped uniforms. He felt as though he himself were under arrest.

The sun shafted through the windows in horizontal beams of orange light. Often at this time of day, Bellarmine would watch the view and glory in the softness of the colour. He would allow the beauty of Rome to warm him. Today he could pay it scant attention. His knees throbbed.

‘Gentlemen, may we travel a little more slowly? I am an old man.'

The soldiers displayed no emotion but reduced their pace.

The Pope's chamber was similarly wreathed in orange. A young cardinal stood to one side with his head cast down, flanked by guards. He clutched a sheaf of papers. Bellarmine struggled to recall his name.
Orsini? Yes, that was it, Alessandro Orsini
.

The Pontiff barely waited for Bellarmine to kiss the papal ring. ‘Cardinal Bellarmine …'

‘Your Holiness, I came as soon as I could.'

‘Our gullible young friend here has a new document from Galileo …'

Bellarmine felt his stomach drop away.

‘… My patience with our Florentine astronomer is growing thin. The first I heard of him was that he had discovered a few twinkling lights. Now
all
I hear is that he wants to rewrite our beliefs to
incorporate
the work of some fellow called Copernicus – and he sends my own cardinals to me. I want an end to this nonsense.' He snapped his wrist in a beckoning motion to Orsini. The young man scuttled over, holding out the manuscript. The Pope flicked his head towards Bellarmine, making Orsini proffer the papers to the old cardinal.