He often felt he had almost caught a glimpse of her, but then she seemed to vanish. His trips had been infrequent, however, as these had been dangerous times and the king feared that the Seymours would suspect Nicholas Oliver was up to something more than simply hammering gold into royal medals for the court.

That poor young king had been through a devil of a time with those mad, power-hungry Seymours. Nicholas would never forget the night that a messenger came to him from Windsor Castle just three years before with a short note. It was in a code known as the Cardan grille, which involved shuffling the letters of the alphabet in a particular sequence and then placing a sheet with punched holes over the message so that only the relevant letters would be revealed. Nicholas was able to quickly decode it. The message from the young king read, Methinks I am a prisoner here in my own castle.

In fact, his protector, Edward Seymour, now the Duke of Somerset, had issued a proclamation that insisted on the protection of the king’s safety, and had removed him to Windsor Palace without consent of the Privy Council. That had been the beginning of the end of the Seymours. The goldsmith had ridden like fury to alert the Duke of Warwick and other members of the council. Within twenty-four hours, Edward Seymour was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of London. Within a very short time, Nicholas Oliver had become King Edward’s favorite and most productive spy. He had the ideal cover—goldsmith to the royal court.

Now he had been summoned again, under the guise of delivering new designs for medals, but in fact to report as well on Princess Mary. The rise in her popularity alarmed King Edward, who was fiercely Protestant. He worried about those who were perhaps wobbling in their devotion to his father’s creation, the Church of England.

When Nicholas Oliver arrived the following day, he took his horse to the stables and then walked through the main gate of Hampton Court. He could see that the entire west courtyard was festooned with flowers and no fewer than four maypoles. In the center of the courtyard, a throne had been set up for the king. In the Clock Court, jugglers and acrobats were practicing, and fools and dwarfs were indulging in their usual antics. As the clock struck ten that morning, trumpets began to blow the royal fanfare, announcing the arrival of the king. Edward was now almost fifteen, but he had the stature and size of a boy much younger. As he walked up the steps of the throne and seated himself, the slight king seemed swallowed by the throne. But he appeared happy. His cheeks were rosy and he appeared in good health.