Sky's Dark Labyrinth (28 page)

‘You want your children back, don't you?' Katharina was saying. ‘You can't leave them in Kunstadt for ever.'

‘Of course not.'  

‘What's her name? Will she make a good mother?'  

Kepler smiled despite himself. ‘Susanna. She's modest and thrifty, and she loves children.'  

‘What do her parents say?'  

‘She's an orphan. That's how she came to be Baroness Starhemberg's companion. They've raised her as if she were a daughter.'  

‘Not much of a dowry, then?'  

‘Mother! Such talk is unjustified. What may or may not transpire between Susanna and me is not to be reduced to a matter of money. Now, I don't want to discuss it further.'  

‘Alright. But you've got to talk to me – about anything – or my mind will start to fill with fear again.'  

Kepler's eyes searched the room for inspiration. ‘Though it's hard to believe at the moment, there must be harmony in the world; God's perfection cannot allow it to be otherwise. It must be a harmony so grand that it reduces all earthly woes to triviality.'  

‘I didn't want a sermon.'  

‘It's not a sermon. I'm trying to tell you something. Something I've not told anyone else.' He paused. ‘I have searched for this harmony for years now and … and I've found it. Do you remember me saying that the Sun controls the movement of the planets? Well, for this to be true there must be a mathematical rule that links a planet's distance from the Sun to the time it takes to complete an orbit – that's called the period. I've found that the period and distance are a ratio – just as notes are in a musical scale. In the case of the planets, it's a little more
complicated
: the square of the period is always equal to the cube of the
semi-major
axis of the elliptical orbit. Do you understand?'  

A faint smile tugged at Katharina's thin lips. ‘I'll never understand the things you talk about, but don't stop talking.'

Kepler ran a finger over a patch of her blanket, describing an
elliptical
shape. ‘This is an orbit, and the longest line I can draw inside is the major axis.' He ran his finger across the widest part of his pretend ellipse. ‘Half of this line is the semi-major axis. Multiply it to itself three times and it equals the period of the orbit multiplied together twice. It is the wedge that can be used to drive open the mathematics of the solar force that governs the planetary motion.'

He paused for some sign of affirmation. When it did not come, he turned his head. In the Moon's pale facsimile of sunlight, he could just make out the rise and fall of her chest.

In the moments of calm that followed, Kepler understood his future. He could see himself putting all the things he had to do into action. With his mother safe, he must return to Linz and make a new life with Susanna Reuttinger, if she would have him. Kepler chased away the momentary doubt. Of course she would; he had seen the lingering way she looked at him.

For all her privilege, Susanna was lonely. She seemed to have accepted her orphaned status as her fault. Whenever he thought of her pale vulnerability, he wanted her even more. The shine in her eyes and the sparkle of her voice stirred him in a way that he had almost forgotten was possible. The more he made her laugh, the less it reminded him of Barbara and the more it sounded like a unique connection between him and Susanna.

He would retrieve his children from Kunstadt; perhaps have some more? And he would publish a book about the harmony of the universe, presenting his newly discovered law of planetary motion to the world. Then, at long last, he would finish
The Rudolphine Tables
.

Galileo hamfistedly shuffled his papers again, banging them on the tabletop to force them into a pile. He was in the convent's meeting parlour. Raising himself with a grunt he peered through the iron bars of the nearest window, scanning the empty room beyond.

Where is Maria Celeste? And when did I stop thinking of her as Virginia, the name I chose for her?

He had so much to tell her.

Six months ago, the world had changed in a puff of white smoke from a Vatican chimney. Ignorance and doubt and fear had all been swept away as Cardinal Maffeo Barberini became Pope Urban VIII.

At word of the accession, Galileo had ransacked the trunk of letters in his hallway, finding the correct bundle tied in a silk ribbon, and almost torn the fragile papers in his haste to reread them. They were the letters that the new Pope had written to him years before, when still a cardinal, praising his astronomy and his intellect. They were just as Galileo remembered. Urban referred to him as a pious man of great virtue whose astronomy improved the lives of others.

Galileo had wasted no time in sending his congratulations to Urban. He had considered a direct letter based on these past exchanges, but then he thought the new Pope was more likely to respond to a show of excessive humility. As divine providence would have it, Galileo had recently steered Urban's nephew through a doctoral degree so he used the young man as his messenger.

A few weeks later, a courier presented a missive that made Galileo punch the air in triumph. Keen to continue and even strengthen their correspondence, the Pope had invited him to the Vatican. Galileo laughed at the thought of the consternation this must have produced in the Inquisition offices, not to mention the Roman College. Everything
could change now that the Pope, supreme ruler of all Catholics, was a supporter of Galileo.

Galileo had arrived back from Rome yesterday evening, and he had a story to tell.

Come on, Maria Celeste!

He dropped back into the uncomfortable wooden chair and
impatiently
studied his side of the room. It was clean, but unrepaired holes in the walls revealed the hair and straw of the inner binding. Even the light seemed old in here.

There was movement behind the metal grille. Maria Celeste was by the far door, carrying a small bundle. He pressed himself closer to the wall and held his palm to the metal railing. Their fingers locked. ‘You're cold,' he said.

‘Sister Arcangela wanted me to dowse her again.'

Arcangela – Livia's chosen name. ‘How is your sister?'

‘She's still in her bed with the fever I wrote to you about.'

‘Is it that serious?'

Maria Celeste spoke with deliberate care. ‘There are those who might have shrugged off the illness sooner.'

‘I see.'

‘Here are your collars. I have mended and bleached them.' She passed the garments between the metal bars. Galileo stacked them with his papers.

‘Now let us talk of you and your adventures. It is unforgivable of me to keep you waiting when you have so much to tell. I've missed you this past month, Papa. Tell me, did you meet him? Did you meet the new Pope?'

‘I did. We walked together in the gardens of the Vatican.'

‘Forgive me for being curious, but what is he like?'

‘Everything you could wish for. He retains his great interest in my astronomy. Things will be different this time. Every day for five days we met to discuss philosophy. Just him and me.'

For their first meeting Urban VIII had approached on horseback, the colour of his cassock matching the white hair of his stallion. Galileo had felt his heart accelerate at the majestic sight. Had he not been wearing an expensive new tunic, he might have felt intimidated.

The Swiss Guards kept a respectful distance but were watchful as Urban drew his steed to a halt, patted its neck and slid from the saddle.
The Pope looked younger than his fifty-five years. Galileo fell to his knees and kissed Urban's outstretched hand.

‘Did you hear? Bellarmine passed away,' said Urban.

‘I did, Your Holiness.' Galileo stood up.

‘Died penniless. Managed to give everything he had to the poor,' said the Pope. ‘I expect I'll have to commission a statue of him.'

Galileo said nothing.

Urban had a square goatee that protruded some two inches from the bottom of his chin. His moustache was waxed into horizontal points. He moved steadily, each step seemingly designed to savour his new position in the world. Galileo fell in beside him.

‘You haven't forgiven him for the anti-Copernican edict have you?' asked Urban.

Galileo watched a pair of birds wheel through the sky, choosing his words carefully. ‘I have a lot to thank the cardinal for. Without him, the edict may have been harsher. As it was, Copernicus wasn't banned, only corrected.'

‘Rome is different now.'

Galileo turned, unsure he had heard correctly.

Urban's round eyes were burning. ‘I will turn Rome into a hub of human education, both spiritual and philosophical. I will send missions into Europe and far beyond to take our teachings to the world. But to do it, I need help.'

‘I am your humble servant as you know, but, Your Holiness, you have the Roman College on your doorstep.'

‘Oh, quite so. I've studied with the Jesuits and value them above everybody else, yet I also understand the drawbacks of their system, their resistance to change.' Urban was watching Galileo closely.

‘The Jesuits are the arbiters of Roman knowledge, Your Holiness.'

‘Oh, come, don't fence with me. We both know that you skewered Father Scheiner over his interpretation of the sunspots.'

Galileo's heart accelerated again. The Pope was flattering him: he wanted something. ‘Your Holiness, the good philosopher flies alone like an eagle, not in a flock of noisy starlings. And though the lone voice may struggle to be heard, yet may he reach heights that no starling can ever imagine.'

‘And I am struck by one of your thoughts in particular: that you champion experimental evidence over the wisdom of the ancients.'

Galileo stopped dead. ‘You have read my latest work about the comets of 1618?'

‘
Il Saggiatore
. Yes, I have it read to me at mealtimes. I'm not sure there is anyone else in all Europe who can present a polemic like you. I am captivated by your new way of learning.'

‘We should believe only what we can verify by experimentation. Nothing else is credible. Deduction and logic are second rate compared to the experience of our eyes and the wit of our mathematics. We see nature around us; let us truly investigate it. In this way, we can bring ourselves closer to God.'

‘It seems so obvious in hindsight.'

‘If I may say so, Your Holiness, the greatest ideas always do.'

Urban walked on, forcing Galileo to match his pace. ‘There is one thing that surprises me, Galileo. The Roman College now say that they have measured all three comets and that they are celestial objects, able to move between the planets. Yet you maintain in your book that they are atmospheric phenomena.'

‘Your Holiness, one only has to spit on the floor to see sunlight thus reflected. But only a fool would think he has discovered a new star.'

Urban inclined his head in a sideways nod. ‘There is one thing that
Il Saggiatore
does not mention: the system of Copernicus.'

Galileo could not help but glance over his shoulder. The Swiss Guards were a dozen paces behind. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. ‘The edict of 1616 …'

‘If I had been Pope then, there would never have been an edict.'

Galileo found it hard to convince himself that he had heard correctly.

‘Oh, the look on your face, Galileo … I find nothing wrong with Copernicus's ideas – so long as they are confined to hypothesis, never spoken as truth. There are still too many in Rome who believe the planets are moved by angels to talk of it as anything else. Claim that it is just a mathematical trick to achieve the correct answer rather than assert that this is the true arrangement of planets and all seems
reasonable
to me.'

‘What of the Jesuits and their favour for the Tychonic arrangement?'

‘I think you are fencing with me again.'

‘Forgive me. As we both know, Tycho's system was never more than an ugly compromise.'

‘A stepping stone to Copernicus. If I am going to send my priests and monks off into the world, I need to arm them with the best weapons against ignorance that I can find.'

Galileo felt a shiver pass through him. ‘A book,' he whispered. ‘You need a book that anyone can read arguing for Copernican astronomy.'

‘Know anyone who might like to write it?'

‘Your Holiness, it would be my honour to begin at once.'

Urban smiled. ‘Perhaps I will commission a statue of you one day, Galileo.'

Galileo nearly laughed at his daughter, her eyes were as wide and white as the full moon and her mouth was parted in astonishment. He told her, ‘I'm going to write it in Italian, not Latin, and in ordinary language for the common man to read. They will be my judges. I'll include no mathematics in the actual book but all my arguments will be based on my lifetime of observations and calculations. I'm going to frame the book as a discussion between three philosophers, taking place over a number of days. One philosopher will be a Copernican; the other will be a foolish Aristotelian; and the third will be an undecided but
reasonable
man. On the first day, I'll draw the battle lines: the Aristotelian will describe the Earth as being fundamentally different from all the other celestial objects; and the Copernican will point out that the telescope shows this is not true – that the Moon is Earth-like and probably so are the other planets. On the second day, I'll talk about the twofold motion of the Earth; its daily rotation to give us night and day, and its annual orbit to give us our year. Day Three will see the introduction of the sunspots, while on the fourth and final day they will discuss the tides. By the end of this day, our agnostic will have no choice but to side with the Copernican. There will be no doubt left. At last, I have been given the chance to prove myself.'