‘You are quite sure, then, there was nothing unusual that night.’

She thought hard, then something seemed to occur to her. ‘Apart from the smell, which soon vanished, there was only one thing, something so small I hesitate to mention it.’

‘What?’ I leaned forward over Lord Parr’s desk. ‘Anything might help.’

‘I told you I came over from my lodgings. You will have discovered how many guarded doors one must pass through in this place – at the entrance to the King’s Guard Chamber, the Presence Chambers, the Privy Chamber, the privy lodgings . . . When I am on duty I am always on the list of people to be admitted. Sometimes a guard new to his duties will ask who I am, check that I am on the list and make a prick against my name with his pin. I do not complain, it is their duty. But in the Queen’s apartments nearly all the guards know me; they just mark my name as I pass. That night the guard on the door to the privy lodgings was a man who has often been on duty there, named Zachary Gawger. To my surprise he stopped me and made a fuss about being unable to find my name on his list. I told him not to be foolish, but he insisted on checking the list twice before he finally found it and let me through. And he spoke in a loud, bullying tone, not fit for addressing a lady of my station.’ She bridled slightly. ‘I wondered if he might be drunk, but the guard captain always checks the guards are sober, and their equipment in order, before he allows them on duty.’

‘It certainly sounds strange,’ I agreed. ‘I shall discuss it with Lord Parr.’ I stood and bowed. ‘I thank you for your time.’

Mistress Odell got up. ‘I am asked to take you to the Queen’s private prayer closet now. The Queen will meet you there. I understand you are to speak to Jane Fool.’

‘’Tis so.’

That touch of a humorous smile again, like Queen Catherine’s. ‘I wish you good luck with her, sir.’

She opened the door, and I followed her out.

WE WALKED DOWN the hallway. A rich perfume of roses and lavender filled the air, the scent coming from petals laid alongside the wainscotting. Through an open door at the end of the hall I had a glimpse of an immensely long, brightly painted gallery with tall windows, and of caged songbirds within that made a pretty trilling. The Queen’s Gallery, I surmised.