‘You checkmated me, Master Cromwell,’ Edward says. ‘But only because you distracted me.’

‘How did I?’

‘You asked me about my sister Jane. Her age, and so on.’

‘You thought I was interested in her.’

‘And are you?’ Edward smiles, to take the edge off the crude question. ‘She is not spoken for yet, you know.’

‘Set up the pieces,’ he says. ‘Would you like the board aligned as it was when you lost your train of thought?’

Edward looks at him, carefully expressionless. Incredible things are related of Cromwell’s memory. He smiles to himself. He could set up the board, with only a little guesswork; he knows the type of game a man like Seymour plays. ‘We should begin afresh,’ he suggests. ‘The world moves on. You are happy with Italian rules? I don’t like these contests that drag out for a week.’

Their opening moves see some boldness on Edward’s part. But then, a white pawn poised between his fingertips, Seymour leans back in his chair, frowning, and takes it into his head to talk about St Augustine; and from St Augustine moves to Martin Luther. ‘It is a teaching that brings terror to the heart,’ he says. ‘That God would make us only to damn us. That his poor creatures, except some few of them, are born only for a struggle in this world and then eternal fire. Sometimes I fear it is true. But I find I hope it is not.’

‘Fat Martin has modified his position. Or so I hear. And to our comfort.’

‘What, more of us are saved? Or our good works are not entirely useless in God’s sight?’

‘I should not speak for him. You should read Philip Melanchthon. I will send you his new book. I hope he will visit us in England. We are talking to his people.’

Edward presses the pawn’s little round head to his lips. He looks as if he might tap his teeth with it. ‘Will the king allow that?’

‘He would not let in Brother Martin himself. He does not like his name mentioned. But Philip is an easier man, and it would be good for us, it would be very good for us, if we were to come into some helpful alliance with the German princes who favour the gospel. It would give the Emperor a fright, if we had friends and allies in his own domains.’

‘And that is all it means to you?’ Edward’s knight is skipping over the squares. ‘Diplomacy?’

‘I cherish diplomacy. It’s cheap.’

‘Yet they say you love the gospel yourself.’

‘It is no secret.’ He frowns. ‘Do you really mean to do that, Edward? I see my way to your queen. And I should not like to take advantage of you again, and have you say I spoiled your game with small talk about the state of your soul.’

A skewed smile. ‘And how is your queen these days?’

‘Anne? She is at outs with me. I feel my head wobble on my shoulders when she stares at me hard. She has heard that once or twice I spoke favourably of Katherine, the queen that was.’