‘I just want to understand,’ J said quickly. His father’s face was dark with anger, he saw that he had gone too far.

‘Understand what?’

J hesitated. ‘I want to know why you follow the duke above all else,’ he said in a sudden rush. ‘Why you leave me, and leave Mother, and sometimes we don’t see you for months. I want to know what hold he has over you. What hold he has over the king?’

John was thoughtful for a moment then he turned his son and walked beside him, his arm laid heavily on the young slim shoulders. ‘I love him as a master,’ he said. ‘Set above me by God to guide me and command me. I am his vassal, d’you see? He asked me to be his man and I consented. That means that I am bound to him till death, or until he releases me. I didn’t go down on my knees and swear vassalship as I would have done in the old days but the thing is still the same. I am his man and he is my lord. That’s the bond between us.’

J nodded unwillingly.

‘And I love him because of his beauty,’ John said simply. ‘Whether he’s in white silk and showered with diamonds, or whether he’s dressed in brown for hunting, he is as lithe as a willow and as lovely’ – he looked around the garden – ‘as one of my chestnut trees in blossom. He’s a rare rare thing, J. I have never seen his equal. He is as lovely as a woman and as brave as a knight in a story. He moves like a dancer and he rides like a devil, and he makes me laugh when we are together, and he grieves me every day we are apart. He is my lord. There is none like him.’

‘D’you love him more than us?’ J asked, going to the heart of the question.

‘I love him differently.’ John avoided the truth. ‘I love you and your mother as my own dear kin. I love my lord as I love the angels above him and my God above them.’

‘Do you never wonder,’ J asked spitefully from the depths of his hurt, ‘do you never wonder that your love might be misplaced? That your lord, just below the angels, might be what they call him in the market place? A false friend, a thief, a spy, a Papist, a murderer … a sodomite?’

John whirled and smacked his son, a ringing blow which sent the youth sprawling, and then stood over him with his fists clenched, ready to hit him again should he come up fighting. ‘How dare you!’

J struggled backwards, away from his furious father. ‘I …’