‘He snatched my very pipe out of my mouth and broke it!’ one of the courtiers interrupted. ‘I know that the king hates smoke, but it is a sure prevention of infection, and how should His Majesty smell it in another room? I shall write to the duke and complain of my treatment. Twenty years I have been at court, and he pushed me out of the door as if I were his serf!’

‘He has cleared the room of everyone but a nurse, his mother and himself,’ a man declared. ‘And he swears that the king shall have peace and quiet and no more meddling. As if a king should not be surrounded by his people all the time!’

John left them and strolled into dinner. Buckingham and his mother were at the high table; the place for the king was left respectfully empty. Prince Charles was seated next to the empty place, his head very close to the duke’s.

‘Aye, they’ll have much to consider,’ a man said in an undertone and took his seat next to John.

John took some fine white manchet bread and a large joint of pheasant from the plate in the centre of the table. He snapped his fingers for a girl and she came to pour him wine.

‘What’s the countess doing here?’ one man asked. ‘The king can’t abide her.’

‘Caring for the king, apparently. The physicians have been sent away and she is to nurse him.’

‘An odd choice,’ another man said shortly. ‘Since he hates the sight of her.’

‘The king is on the mend,’ yet another man said, pulling out his stool. ‘The duke was right to send those fools away. His Majesty had the fever – why! – we’ve all had a fever. And if the countess knows a remedy which cured the duke, why should she not offer it to the king?’

The men glanced at John. ‘Was it you fetched her?’ one asked.

John savoured the taste of roast pheasant, the rich juices flowing in his mouth. ‘I can hardly remember,’ he said, muffled. ‘D’you know this is the first decent meal I’ve had in a day and a half? I was damming up a fishpond in Essex not long ago. And now here I am back at Theobalds. And very good fare to be had too.’

One of the men shrugged and laughed shortly. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘We’ll get no secrets from you. We all know who is your master, and you serve him well, John Tradescant. I hope you never come to regret it!’

John looked up the hall to the top table where the duke was leaning forward to call to one of the officers. The candlelight made a reddish halo around his black curls, his face was as bright and delighted as a child’s.

‘No,’ John said with affection. ‘I’ll never regret it.’