‘The king likes Kitty Howard,’ she observes to me.

‘And Lady Anne Bassett,’ I say equably. ‘Young people make him merry. You have enjoyed the company of the Princess Mary, I think.’

‘No,’ she says shortly, there is no diverting her. ‘He likes Katherine.’

‘No more than any other,’ I persist. ‘Mary Norris is a favourite.’

‘Lady Rochford, be my friend: what am I to do?’ she asks me simply.

‘Do? Your Grace?’

‘If he has a girl . . .’ She breaks off to find the right word. ‘A whore.’

‘A lover,’ I correct her rapidly. ‘Whore is a very bad word, Your Grace.’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘Ach, so? Lover.’

‘If he takes a lover, you must pay no attention.’

She nods. ‘This is what Queen Jane do?’

‘Yes indeed, Your Grace. She did not notice.’

She is silent for a second. ‘They do not think her a fool for this?’

‘They thought her queenly,’ I say. ‘A queen does not complain of her husband the king.’

‘That is what Queen Anne do?’

I hesitate. ‘No. Queen Anne was very angry, she made much noise.’ God spare us ever again from the storm that broke over our heads on the day that Anne found Jane Seymour squirming and giggling on the king’s lap. ‘The king was then angry with her. And . . .’

‘And?’

‘It is dangerous to anger the king. Even if you are queen.’

She is silent at this, it has not taken her long to learn that the court is a death-trap for the unwary.

‘Who was the king’s lover then? When Queen Anne made much noise?’

This is rather awkward to tell the king’s new wife. ‘He was courting Lady Jane Seymour, who became queen.’

She nods. I have learned that when she looks most stolid and stupid it is then that she is thinking the most furiously.

‘And Queen Katherine of Aragon? She makes a noise?’

I am on firmer ground here. ‘She never once complained to the king. She always greeted him with a smile, whatever she had heard, whatever she feared. She was always a most courteous wife and queen.’

‘But he took a lover? Just the same? With such a queen at his side? Her, a princess that he had married for love?’

‘Yes.’

‘And was that lover Lady Anne Boleyn?’

I nod.

‘A lady in waiting? Her own lady in waiting?’

I nod again at the remorseless march of her logic.

‘So both his two queens were ladies in waiting? He see them in the queen’s rooms? He meet them there.’

‘That is so,’ I say.

‘He meets them while the queen watches. He dances with them in her rooms. He agrees that they should meet later?’

I cannot deny it. ‘Er, yes.’

She looks ahead to where Katherine Howard is riding close to the king and watches as he leans over and puts his hand on hers, as if to correct how she is holding the reins. Katherine looks up at him as if his touch is an honour she can hardly bear. She leans slightly towards him, yearning, we both hear her breathless little giggle.