‘Yes, sir, of Kendal. My father is a distant relation of the Queen, and owns much property in Cumberland.’ He spoke proudly.

‘I am Serjeant Shardlake, of the Queen’s Learned Council, set to investigate the matter of the ruby ring stolen from the coffer in the Queen’s bedchamber. You have heard of the theft?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘It was stolen while the Queen was with his majesty on the sixth of July, between six and ten in the evening. You were one of those on duty that night?’

Russell looked at me boldly. ‘Yes, sir. Garet Lynley and I came in at six, to bring fresh candles, clean the rooms, and scent them with new herbs. I left at eight. Garet stayed. To attend to the bedchamber,’ he added.

‘Did you enter the Queen’s bedchamber at all?’ I asked sharply.

‘No sir, only Garet Lynley. Only one page is allowed in there each evening, and it was not my turn that day.’

‘Two pages carry out this work every day for two hours?’

‘That is our assignment on the rota. We have to attend to the Queen’s gallery, too, feed the birds there. And her dog.’

I did not like this lad’s arrogant tone. I spoke coldly. ‘Mayhap it does not always take two hours? Perhaps you sometimes sit down, rest?’

‘All servants do, sir.’

‘And boys are prone to meddle. A page stole something from the Queen before, you may remember. And he was sentenced to hang until the Queen pardoned him.’

Russell’s eyes widened. He began to bluster. ‘Sir, I would do nothing like that, I would steal nothing, I swear. I am of good family—’

‘So you say. Did you see anyone else while you were there? Or anything unusual at all?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Think. Think hard. Perhaps the thief left something out of place, moved something?’

‘No, sir. I swear, I would tell you if I had noticed anything out of place.’ Young Russell was kneading his hands together with anxiety now, his childish arrogance gone. I could not see this callow lad being involved in the book’s theft. In gentler tones, I got him to go over his exact movements, then told him he could go. He scurried from the room with relief.

The second page, Garet Lynley, was afraid from the outset; I could see that at once. He was the same age as Russell, tall and thin, his neatly combed brown hair worn long. I bade him sit and asked him about his duties in the Queen’s bedchamber.