Like many Florentine traders using the Arno, the Contis transported barrels of wine by barge to their bottling plant downstream. ‘I’m grateful to you for this,’ I said, as we rode across the Ponte alla Carraia to the Oltrarno district.’ The river looked darkly solid in the milky early morning light and the air smelt fresh. No pall of smoke rising yet over this industrial landscape.
‘I’m glad to help. I hope we’ll find the young man there at this hour.’
The church clocks had struck eight as we set out across the bridge, for Tommaso had services later. But, from my knowledge of the jewellery trade, artisan labour generally began earlier than this. ‘I hope we might see him without Giovanni. I’m not sure how closely they work together.’
The warehouse had its own wharf and was approached thr
