‘And there are plants which could yield medicines,’ Tradescant told him. ‘A fruit like an amber strawberry which prevents scurvy, and I was told of a tree which grows at the Volga River which they call God’s tree. It sounds like fennel but they say it will cure many sicknesses. You might see it, my lord. You might take a cutting if you see it.’

‘Come with me, John,’ Sir Dudley replied. ‘Come and take your own cuttings. You’ve been here such a little time and found such novelties. Come with me to Moscow and you can collect your plants all the way.’

For a moment he thought the man would say yes. John’s face lit up at the prospect of the adventure and the thought of the riches he would see.

Then he shook his head and laughed at his own eagerness. ‘I’m like a girl running after a fair,’ he said. ‘I can think of nothing I would like more. But I have to go home. Lord Wootton expects me, and my wife and son.’

‘His lordship comes first?’

John was recalled to his duty. ‘My lord must come before everything. Even my own desires.’

Sir Dudley dropped an arm carelessly around John’s shoulders, and they strolled together to his waiting horses. ‘I am sorry for it,’ he said. ‘There’s no man I would rather have beside me, all the way to China.’

John nodded to hide his emotion. ‘I wish I could, my lord.’ He looked down the wagon train of the strong Tartar horses, tacked up with deep travelling saddles.

‘All the way to China, you say?’

‘Think what you would find –’ Sir Dudley whispered temptingly.

John shook his head but his hand was on the stirrup leather. ‘I cannot,’ he said.

Sir Dudley smiled at him. ‘Then safe homeward journey,’ he said. ‘And if I find anything very rare or strange I will cut it and send it to you, and I will make a note of where I found it so that you can make the journey yourself one day. For you are a traveller, John, not a stay-at-home. I can see it in your eyes.’

John grinned, shaking his head, and made himself release his grip on the stirrup, and made himself step back from Sir Dudley’s horse. He forced himself to watch, and not run after, as the whole cavalcade of them turned from the quayside to set off on the track towards Moscow and the East.

‘God speed,’ John called. ‘And good fortune at the court of the Russian king.’

‘God send you safe home,’ Sir Dudley replied. ‘And when I get home you can name me as your friend, Tradescant. I shall not forget your care of me when I was sick.’