‘Like that,’ she says flatly.

I can think of nothing to say.

‘I see,’ says the queen. ‘I understand now. And a wise woman say nothing?’

‘She says nothing.’ I hesitate. ‘You cannot prevent it, Your Grace. Whatever comes of it.’

She bows her head and to my surprise I see a tear fall on to the pommel of her saddle and she covers it quickly with her gloved finger. ‘Yes, I can do nothing,’ she whispers.

* * *

We have been settled in our apartments at Westminster for only a few days when I am summoned to the rooms of my kinsman the Duke of Norfolk. I go at midday, before we dine, and I find him pacing about his rooms, not his usual contained self at all. It is so unusual to see him disturbed that I am at once alert to danger. I do not enter the room but stay by the wall, as I would if I had opened the wrong door in the Tower and found myself among the king’s lions. I stay by the door and my hand rests on the door knob.

‘Sir?’

‘Have you heard? Did you know? Cromwell is to be an earl? A damned earl?’

‘He is?’

‘Did I not just say so? Earl of Essex. Earl of bloody Essex! What do you think of that, madam?’

‘I think nothing, sir.’

‘Have they consummated the marriage?’

‘No!’

‘Do you swear? Are you certain? They must have done. He’s got it up at last and he’s paying his bawd. He must be pleased with Cromwell for something!’

‘I am utterly certain. I know they have not. And she is unhappy, she knows he is attracted to Katherine, and she is anxious about that. She spoke to me of it.’

‘But he is rewarding the minister who gave him the queen. He must be pleased with the marriage, something must have pleased him. He must have learned something, he must be turning from us for some reason. He is rewarding Cromwell, and Cromwell brought him the queen.’

‘I swear to you, my lord, I have held nothing back from you. The king has been coming to her bed almost every night since the end of Lent but it is no better than it was before. The sheets are clean, her hair is still in plaits, her nightcap straight every morning. She cries sometimes, during the day, when she thinks no-one is watching. This is not a well-loved woman, this is a hurt girl. I swear she is a virgin still.’

The duke rounds on me in his rage. ‘Then why would he make Cromwell Earl of Essex?’

‘It must be for some other reason.’

‘What other reason? This is Cromwell’s great triumph, this alliance with the Protestant dukes and the king, this alliance against France and Spain, sealed with this marriage with the Flanders girl. I have an alliance with the King of France at my fingertips. I have filled the king’s head with suspicions against Cromwell. Lord Lisle has told him that Cromwell favours reformers, has hidden heretics away in Calais. Cromwell’s favourite preacher is to be accused of heresy. Everything is piling up against him but then he gets an earldom. Why is that? The earldom is his reward. Why would the king reward him if he is not pleased with him?’