‘Well enough,’ Tradescant said. ‘Now that I know.’ He pointed to the apothecaries. ‘You three – out of the room.’ He pointed to the other. ‘And you watch the duke’s sleep and guard him from noise and interruption.’

Buckingham made a little gesture with his thin hand. ‘Don’t you leave me, John.’

John bowed, and swept all the men from the room. ‘Consult among yourselves and make whatever he needs,’ he said firmly. ‘I shall watch his sleep.’

‘He needs cupping,’ one of them said.

‘No cupping.’

‘Or leeches?’

John shook his head. ‘He’s to sleep and not be tortured.’

‘What d’you know? You’re nothing but a gardener.’

John gave the apothecaries a hard unfriendly smile. ‘I wager I lose fewer plants than you do patients,’ he said accurately. ‘And I keep them well by letting them rest when they need rest, and feeding them when they are hungry. I don’t cup them and leech them, I care for them. And that is what I shall do for my duke until he orders it otherwise.’

Then he shut the door in their faces and stood at the foot of his master’s bed, and waited for him to have his fill of sleep.

Tradescant could guard his master against the household. But when the king heard that the Favourite had been sick and near to death, he sent word that he would come at once, and the whole court with him.

Buckingham, still pale but only a little stronger, was sitting in the bay window which overlooked John’s new knot garden, John standing at his side, when they brought the message from the king.

‘I’m back in favour then,’ Buckingham said idly. ‘I thought I was finished for this reign.’

‘But you brought Prince Charles safe home,’ Tradescant protested. ‘What more did His Majesty want?’

Buckingham slid a sly sideways smile at his gardener and sniffed at the spray of snowdrops which Tradescant had brought him. ‘A little less rather than more,’ he said. ‘He envied me the triumphant entry into London. He thought I was setting up to be king myself. He thought I wanted Kit Villiers to marry the Elector Frederick’s daughter and ally myself to the Stuarts.’ He laughed shortly. ‘As though I would put Kit over myself,’ he said scornfully. ‘And then he looks from me to the prince and back again and he fears my influence over the heir. And he’s jealous as an old woman. He cannot bear to see us make merry when he is old and aching and longing for his bed. He cannot bear to think that we are merry without him when he has withdrawn. He has given me everything I ask and now he is jealous that I am wealthy and courted. Jealous that I am the richest man in the kingdom with the most beautiful house.’ He broke off and tossed his head.