I blink. It is the king’s right, as God’s representative on earth, to rule on such matters but sometimes us mortals are a little slow to follow the whimsical changes of God. ‘It is over for her?’ I make a little gesture to the girl at the front of the box who stands now to acknowledge the salute of the champion, and raises her hand and smiles at the crowd who shouts her name.

‘She is finished,’ the duke says.

‘Finished?’

‘Finished.’

I nod. I suppose this means that they will kill her.

ANNE, WESTMINSTER PALACE,

JUNE 1540

My brother has finally sent the documents that show that indeed I was never married before I came to England, that my marriage to the king was my first wedding, and it is valid, as I know, as everybody knows. The documents arrived by messenger today, but my ambassador cannot present them. The king’s Privy Council is in almost constant meeting, and we cannot find out what they are discussing. Having insisted on having this document, they now cannot be troubled even to see it; and what this new indifference means I cannot guess.

God knows what they are planning to do with me, my horror is that they will accuse me of something shameful and I will die in this distant land, and my mother will believe that her daughter died a whore.

I know that terrible trouble is brewing because of the danger that has come to my friends. Lord Lisle, who welcomed me so kindly to Calais, has been arrested and no-one can tell me the charges he faces. His wife has disappeared from my rooms, without saying goodbye. She did not come to ask me to intercede for him. This must mean either that he is to die without trial—dear God, perhaps he is dead already—or that she knows I have no influence with the king. Either way this is a disaster for him and for me. Nobody can tell me where Lady Lisle is hiding, and, in truth, I am afraid to ask. If her husband is charged with treason then any suggestion that he was a friend of mine will count against me.

Their daughter, Anne Bassett, is still in my service but she claims that she is ill and has taken to her bed. I wanted to see her but Lady Rochford says that it is safer for the girl if she is allowed to be alone. So her bedroom door is shut and the shutters in her room are closed. Whether she is a danger to me or I am to her, I dare not ask.

I have sent for Thomas Cromwell who, at least, is blessed with the king’s favour since he was made Earl of Essex only a few weeks ago. Thomas Cromwell at least must stand my friend while my women whisper behind their hands and everyone at court is poised for disaster. But my lord Cromwell has, so far, sent me no reply. Someone surely must tell me what is happening.