It hadn’t been his idea to get married here. In truth it hadn’t been his idea to get married at all: it seemed so rushed and unnecessary, and they’d hardly had an opportunity to get to know each other in normal circumstances. But Hanne was keen, and young Henry in particular was thrilled at the idea. He had no memory of his mother, and the prospect of his father marrying excited him. Only two weeks after Hanne had moved in with them, Prince had overheard his son call her ‘Mummy’.

But the person who seemed most keen was Tom Gilbey, his erstwhile boss at MI6. ‘You’ll be able to make a decent woman of her, Richard.’ He only called him ‘Richard’ when he was trying to flatter him, when he was about to ask a favour or make a demand of him.

‘You don’t think she’s decent enough already, sir? She risked her life for this country – she spied for us in Copenhagen, was arrested by the Gestapo and ended up in a concentration camp. I’d say that’s the mark of a pretty decent person.’

‘Just a turn of phrase, Prince, you know that. But on balance, perhaps the right thing to do, eh?’

Prince would have been happy with a discreet ceremony in a register office, or if it had to be in a church, then one of the smaller ones dotted around the city would have been fine. But from the first moment Hanne saw the cathedral, she’d been captivated by it, and when he’d told her – in the way one does when showing your home town to a visitor – how in medieval times it had been the tallest building in the world for more than two centuries, she’d announced that that was where they’d have their wedding. Prince had told her it was highly unlikely they’d get permission.

‘Ask Mr Gilbey then – he seems so keen on us getting married.’

So he’d asked Tom Gilbey, more in passing than anything else, the question preceded by an ‘I don’t suppose…’

He ought to have known better, because inevitably it turned out that Gilbey had been at school with the bishop. ‘I’ll telephone him now!’

Prince had said it seemed quite unnecessary to go to that effort and it was only an idea, but Gilbey said not at all, and within a matter of minutes he was speaking to a man he called ‘Bunny’, which seemed an odd way to address a bishop. He spoke quietly, so Prince only picked up snatches. ‘Heroes, both of them… absolutely… almost died… Berlin… unimaginable… tragic… enormous favour… if anyone deserves it…’

When the call ended, he’d turned round to face Prince, a satisfied look on his face. ‘Many congratulations, Richard, you’re getting married at Lincoln Cathedral. Apparently you need a special licence to do so, but Bunny said it would be an honour to grant it, and you can even hold the reception in the Chapter House.’

The bishop’s office couldn’t have been more accommodating, and the dean gave them a choice of chapels for the ceremony. There was some paperwork to sort out, and the Danish Embassy in London was required to come up with a letter confirming that its citizen Hanne Jakobsen was free to marry. They were a bit dilatory at first, but again, Gilbey managed to sort it.