Men craned around to see who had taken the duke’s attention and Tradescant fought his way forward.

‘Oh – forgive me, John. I have been so busy. You can go to New Hall now. Call at the docks on the way and get my India goods. Then go home.’

‘Your Grace, you have no chamber prepared for you here,’ John said. ‘I asked, and there is none. Where shall you sleep? Shall I go to your London house and bid the lady, your mother, make ready for you? Or shall I wait and we will go to New Hall together?’

The duke looked across to where the young king was moving slowly through the crowd, his hand extended for people to kiss, acknowledging their bows with a small gesture of his head. When he saw Buckingham watching him he gave him a private, conspiratorial smile.

‘Tonight I sleep in His Majesty’s chamber,’ the duke remarked silkily. ‘He needs me at his side.’

‘But there is only one bed –’ John started, then he bit back the words. Of course a truckle bed could be found. Or the two men could sleep in comfort in the big expanse of the royal bed. King James had never slept alone, why should his son do so if he wanted company?

‘Of course, my lord,’ John said, careful to ensure that none of his thoughts appeared in his face. ‘I shall leave you, if you’re well served.’

Buckingham gave John his sweet satisfied smile. ‘Never better.’

John bowed, and pushed his way to the back of the hall and out into the dusk. He wrapped his borrowed cloak around his shoulders and went outside to the stables. The horses were tired after the day’s journey but he had no intention of riding hard. He chose a steady-looking beast and mounted.

‘When are you back with us, Mr Tradescant?’ a groom asked.

John shook his head. ‘I’m going to my garden,’ he said.

‘You look sick,’ the man remarked. ‘Not taken the king’s ague, have you?’

John thought for a moment of the old king’s long heartsickness for Buckingham, and the net of half-truths and deceptions which were the very heart of court life. ‘Maybe I have a touch of it,’ he said.