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watering eyes and brought them to bear on the source of the voice. A mockery of a human face looked back. It wore a hat reminiscent of a Turkish cupola. Beneath it, two rheumy eyes of hazel gazed unblinkingly from deep sockets. A tightly rolled moustache framed a gappy mouthful of saffron yellow-stained teeth. But that was not the worst of it. The bridge of the nose had been replaced by acylinder of rose-coloured metal, and gobs of some thick unguent clung to the margins where angry flesh met the hideous prosthetic.
    Could this be the great Tycho Brahe?
    The face spoke. ‘I must apologise, more than I had intended, for not escorting you from Prague in person.’
    He was so old. The picture in the frontispiece of his book painted him as a young noble, strapping and brave, not as this ugly palimpsest. Disappointment mingled with Kepler’s physical discomfort, and he thought for a moment he might vomit. Gulping down the nausea, he said, ‘I’m here now.’
    A flicker passed across the old man’s wide face.
    I should have been gracious, thought Kepler, his head pounding.
    Tycho began a slow waddle to the stone entrance with Kepler in his wake. The courtyard was strewn with timber and trestles. Two carpenters in heavy linen smocks tugged a saw back and forth between them, cutting a tree trunk into beams.
    â€˜You join us at an exciting time,’ said his host. ‘We are nearly settled into our new home, and the observatory is close to completion.’
    Inside the castle, all was noise and motion. Giant sheets hung where craftsmen were working the stone, and Tycho batted his arms at the puffs of dust that seeped through the gaps in the coverings.
    â€˜Let me take you straight to the observatory.’ He guided Kepler past wooden scaffolding and under large beams supporting the ceilings to a wide staircase where four servants sweated under the weight of a steel framework. Each side of the square contraption was larger than a man. Inside was suspended a curving track along which ran a moveable armature.
    â€˜Heavens above, that’s a quadrant,’ said Kepler.
    â€˜Set that down,’ Tycho barked at the servants.
    They lowered their burden with a clank onto one of the stone steps and retreated to the balustrades.
    â€˜Take a look.’ Tycho gestured towards the object.
    Marvelling at the engraved scale, Kepler ran his fingers across the cool metal. ‘I’ve only seen hand-held ones before.’
    â€˜You perhaps now glimpse what I have achieved.’
    â€˜It was never in doubt, though I admit the grand scale of it astounds me.’
    â€˜Then let me astound you even more.’ Tycho beckoned the servants back to their task and continued to climb, heaving himself up one step at a time.
    Upon reaching one of the upper landings, Kepler stopped in his tracks. A miniature person was writhing on the floor, stubby limbs scratching at the air. As the bundle of flesh and clothing struggled, it babbled inanely in a squeaky voice.
    â€˜Allow me to introduce Jepp, my constant companion and castle seer.’ Tycho kicked the collection of tiny arms and legs. It sprang to its knees, spitting and clawing the air in Kepler’s direction, forcing him to step back.
    â€˜Evil walks today,’ said Jepp, the words rising with perfect clarity from his incessant mumbling.
    â€˜What does he mean?’
    Tycho laughed with a shrug. ‘He is a harmless dwarf. Come, let us leave him to his ravings.’
    Unnerved by the way the twitching face stared at him, Kepler broke eye-contact and hurried after Tycho. They climbed one further flight of stairs and emerged onto the castle roof. A cool breeze offered balm to Kepler’s cheeks.
    At first he thought his eyes were playing up again; magnifying the world to trick him into thinking that a giant had laid down a set of astronomical instruments for his miniature human helpers to tend. But no, this was reality. Tycho Brahe had