Then they appeared, coming fast upriver; first a French warship, guns firing on both sides, then over a dozen French galleys, long and narrow: sleek, fast vessels of war. They were brightly painted, each in a different colour, and their cannon, set in the prows, fired off blasts in reply to ours. The largest galley, covered from prow to stern in a white canopy decorated in gold fleur-de-lys, pulled alongside the King’s barge.

It was too much for me. The sight of those galleys, which I had last seen firing at the Mary Rose; the smoke; the gunfire that shook the ground. I touched Barak on the shoulder. ‘I have to go.’

He looked at me with concern. ‘God’s blood, you look sick. You shouldn’t go alone. Nick, get a boat.’

‘No!’ I answered stubbornly. ‘I’ll be all right, you stay here.’

Nicholas and Tamasin were also staring. Tamasin took my hand. ‘Are you sure? I could see you were troubled earlier.’

‘I will be all right.’ I felt ashamed of my weakness.

‘Nick,’ Barak said peremptorily, ‘go back with him.’

The boy stepped forward. I opened my mouth to protest, then shrugged.

‘Call on us later,’ Tamasin said.

I nodded. ‘I will.’

I walked away, fast as I could through the crowds, Nicholas for once having to lengthen his long stride to keep up with me. The endless crash of cannon suddenly ceased; the admiral must have boarded the King’s barge at last.

‘Watch out there!’ a man called out as I nearly fell into him. Nicholas grasped my arm.

‘He’s drunk, sodden old hunchback,’ another man observed. And in truth it was as though I were drunk, the ground like a ship’s deck, seeming to shift and slide beneath my feet.

WE GOT A BOAT TO the Steelyard stairs. When we stepped off I felt strange, light-headed. Nicholas said, ‘Shall I walk you home?’ He was embarrassed, and had hardly spoken during the journey.

‘No. We’ll walk to chambers.’

Today being a holiday and so many people down at Greenwich, the city was quiet, as though it were a Sunday. I was walking steadily again now, but thought with renewed grief of my friends who had died on the Mary Rose. Their faces came before me. And then I found myself saying an inward goodbye to them all, and something lifted in my heart.

‘Did you say something, sir?’ Nicholas asked.

I must have murmured aloud. ‘No. No, nothing.’ Looking round, I realized we were at Lothbury. ‘We are close to the Cotterstoke house,’ I said. ‘Where that painting is.’

‘What will happen to it now?’

‘Edward’s half of his mother’s estate will go to his family. In these circumstances I imagine his wife will want to get rid of the house as soon as possible, painting or no painting.’

‘Then Mistress Slanning may get her way.’

‘Yes. I suppose she may.’