This letter is to introduce the ambassador who will represent our country to King Henry and his council. You will extend to him every assistance. I expect you to work closely with him to further our hopes for this alliance that has so far disappointed us. Indeed, the King of England seems to think that he has made a very vassal of Cleves and now he is hoping for our alliance against the emperor, with whom we have no quarrel and are not likely to make one to oblige your husband or you. You should make this clear to him.

I understand that a senior Englishman, the Duke of Norfolk, has enjoyed a visit to the French court and there is no doubt in my mind but that England is drawing closer to France. This is the very thing that you were sent to England to prevent. Already, you are failing your country of Cleves, failing your mother, and me. The ambassador should advise you as to how you can do your duty and not forget it in the pleasures of the flesh.

I have provided him with transport to England and a servant to attend him, but you will have to pay him directly. I assume, from what I hear of your jewels and your new clothes and other ungodly extravagances including, I am told, expensive sables, that you can well afford to do this. Certainly, you would do better to spend your new-found wealth on the future of your country than on items of personal vanity and adornment which can only attract contempt. Just because you have been raised to a high position does not mean that you can neglect your conscience as you have done in the past. I urge you most earnestly to mend your ways, Sister. As the head of your house I advise you to abjure vanity and wantonness.

Trusting that this letter finds you in good health as it leaves me, certainly I hope that it finds you in good spiritual health, Sister. Luxury is no substitute for a good conscience, as you will find if you are spared to grow old.

As prays your loving brother

William.

I put down the letter and I look at the ambassador. ‘Tell me, at least, that you have done this work before, that you have been an ambassador in another court.’

It is my fear that he is some Lutheran preacher that my brother has decided to employ.

‘I served your father at the court of Toledo and Madrid,’ Dr Harst replies with some dignity. ‘But never before at my own expense.’

‘My brother’s finances are a little difficult,’ I say. ‘At least you can live for free at court here.’

He nods. ‘He indicated to me that you would pay my salary.’

I shake my head. ‘Not I. The king gives me my court and my ladies and my clothes, but no money as yet. That can be one of the questions that you raise with him.’