‘He is not an old retainer like Barwic, the cofferer. He was employed at court three years ago, when the Queen’s household was set up. Like everyone at Baynard’s Castle he is part of the domus providenciae, a servant, a craftsman. And he has a strong motive for loyalty and obedience. Working for the court takes you to the top of your profession. Every guildsman in London longs to work here.’ He spoke patronizingly, I thought, an aristocrat talking dismissively of men who worked with their hands. ‘So Hal Gullym will be happy to assist. Now – ’ From his robes Lord Parr produced the Queen’s key, still on its gold chain, and gave it to me. ‘Handle that with great care.’

‘I will.’

‘The guard with a fair beard you see over at that door has been told you are coming to investigate a jewel theft; he will guide you, and wait while you examine the chest. Give the key to him afterwards to return to me; he can be trusted. Then he will take you to Barwic and then Gullym. If you find anything important, send word to Whitehall. Otherwise, attend me there at ten tomorrow morning.’ Lord Parr turned and called to Barak. ‘Over here, sirrah, your master has instructions.’ Then he hobbled away to the inner courtyard to join the members of his family.

THE INTERIOR OF THE BUILDING into which the guard led us was nothing like Whitehall, for all the fine tapestries adorning the walls. This part of Baynard’s Castle was a clothing enterprise; embroiderers and dressmakers working at tables in the well-lit hall. The shimmer of silk was everywhere, the air rich with delightful perfumes from the garments. I thought of what the Queen had said, how the richest of these clothes had passed from Queen to Queen.

Barak shook his head at it all. ‘All these people are working on the clothes of the Queen’s household?’

‘It has a staff of hundreds. Clothes, bedlinen, decorations, all have to be of the finest quality and kept in good repair.’ I nodded to the guard, and with a bow he led us over to one of the many side doors. We were taken down a corridor to a large room where several clothes presses stood, bodices and skirts kept flat beneath them. The Queen’s chest stood on a table; I recognized the distinctive red-and-gold fabric covering its top. It was oak, with strong iron brackets at each corner. Barak walked round it, felt the wood, looked at the lock, then lifted the lid and peered inside. It was a bare wooden box, empty except for the tills in the side where small valuables were kept.

‘Good strong piece. You’d need an axe to break in. The chest is old, but the lock’s new.’ He leaned in and thumped the sides and bottom. ‘No hidden compartments.’

‘It is an old family heirloom.’