‘Inwardly, he did not consent,’ he tells me.

‘Oh.’ I pause. ‘He says this now?’

‘Yes. But if she denies that she was pre-contracted then he can still claim that he cannot consummate the marriage because witchcraft by his enemies is working against him.’

‘These Papists?’ I ask.

‘Papists like her friend Lord Lisle.’

I gasp. ‘He would be accused?’

‘It is possible.’

‘Or Lutherans?’ I whisper.

‘Lutherans like Thomas Cromwell.’

My face shows him my shock. ‘He is a Lutheran now?’

He smiles. ‘The king will believe what he wishes,’ he says silkily. ‘God will guide him in his wisdom.’

‘But who does he think has unmanned him? Who is the witch?’

It is the most important question to ask, especially for a woman. It is always the most important thing for a woman to know. Who will be named as the witch?

‘Do you have a cat?’ he asks, smiling.

I can feel myself grow icy with terror, as if my breath is snow. ‘I?’ I repeat. ‘I?’

The duke laughs. ‘Oh, don’t look like that, Lady Rochford. No-one will accuse you while you are under my protection. Besides, you don’t have a cat, do you? No familiar tucked away? No wax dolls? No midnight Sabbaths?’

‘Don’t joke,’ I say unsteadily. ‘It is not a laughing matter.’

At once he sobers. ‘You are right, it is not. So who is the witch who is unmanning the king?’

‘I don’t know. None of her ladies. None of us.’

‘Perhaps it might be the queen herself?’ he suggests quietly.

‘Her brother would defend her,’ I gabble. ‘Even if you do not need his alliance, even if you have come home from France with a promise of their friendship, you surely cannot risk her brother’s enmity? He could raise the Protestant league against us.’

He shrugs. ‘I think you will find he may not defend her. And I have indeed secured the friendship of France, whatever happens next.’

‘I congratulate you. But the queen is the sister of the Duke of Cleves. She cannot be named as a witch and strangled by a village blacksmith and buried at a crossroads with a stake through her heart.’

He spreads his hands as if he had nothing to do with these decisions. ‘I don’t know. I merely serve His Majesty. We will have to see. But you should watch her closely.’

‘I am to watch her for witchcraft?’ I can hardly keep the incredulity from my voice.

‘For evidence,’ he says. ‘If the king wants evidence, of anything, then we Howards will give it to him.’ He pauses. ‘Won’t we?’

I am silent.

‘As we always have done.’ He waits for my assent. ‘Won’t we?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

KATHERINE, HAMPTON COURT,

MARCH 1540

Thomas Culpepper, my kinsman, in the king’s service and high in his favour for no better reason than his pretty face and his deep blue eyes, is a rogue and a promise breaker, and I shall see him no more.