‘I am certain that Lord Lisle is innocent too,’ I say.

‘Without doubt,’ she replies in the same abrupt way.

‘Can I save him? Can you?’

‘No.’

‘Princess Mary, on your faith, can nothing be done?’

She risks a sideways glance at me. ‘Dearest Anne, nothing. There is nothing to do but to keep our own counsel and pray for better times.’

‘Will you tell me something?’

She looks around and sees that her horses have not yet come. She takes my arm and we walk a little way towards the stable yard as if we are looking to see how long they will be. ‘What is it?’

‘Who is this Pole family? And why does the king fear the Papists when he defeated them so long ago?’

‘The Poles are the Plantagenet family, of the House of York, some would say the true heirs to the throne of England,’ she says. ‘Lady Margaret Pole was my mother’s truest friend, she was as a mother to me, she is utterly loyal to the throne. The king has her in the Tower now, with all of her family that he could capture. They are accused of treason, but everyone knows they have committed no offence but being of Plantagenet blood. The king is so fearful for his throne that I think he will not allow this family to live. Lady Margaret’s two grandsons, two little boys, are in the Tower also, God help them. She, my dearest Lady Margaret, she will not be allowed to live. Others of the family are in exile, they can never come home.’

‘They are Papists?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ she says quietly. ‘They are. One of them, Reginald, is a cardinal. Some would say they are the true kings of the true faith of England. But that would be treason and you would be put to death for saying it.’

‘And why does the king fear the Papists so much? I thought England was converted to the reformed faith? I thought the Papists were defeated?’

Princess Mary shakes her head. ‘No. I should think fewer than half the people welcome the changes and many wish for the old ways back again. When the king denied the authority of the Pope and destroyed the monasteries there was a great rising of men in the north of the country, determined to defend the church and the holy houses. They called it the Pilgrimage of Grace and they marched under the banner of the five wounds of Jesus Christ. The king sent the hardest man in the kingdom against them at the head of the army, and he feared them so badly that he called for a parley, spoke with sweet words, and promised them a pardon and a parliament.’

‘Who was that?’ Already I know.

‘Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk.’

‘And the pardon?’

‘As soon as the army had disbanded, he beheaded the leaders and hanged the followers.’ She speaks with as little inflection as if she is complaining that the luggage wagon is badly packed. ‘He promised a parliament and a pardon on the king’s sacred word. He gave his own word too, on his honour. It meant nothing.’