‘Your Grace,’ he says and bows low, as if to a queen.

I nod.

‘I have brought a letter from the king.’ He offers me the letter. I take it but I do not break the seal. ‘What does it say?’ I ask.

He does not pretend that it is a private matter. ‘It is to tell you that after months of doubt the king has decided to examine his marriage to you. He fears that it is not valid because you were already contracted to marry. There is to be an inquiry.’

‘He says we are not married?’ I ask.

‘He fears that you were not married,’ he corrects me gently.

I shake my head. ‘I don’t understand,’ I say stupidly. ‘I don’t understand.’

* * *

They all come then: half the Privy Council arrive with their entourage and servants, they all come to tell me that I must agree to an inquiry. I don’t agree. I won’t agree. They are all to stay the night here with me at Richmond Palace. I won’t dine with them, I shall not agree. I shall never agree.

In the morning they tell me that three of my ladies are to be summoned to appear before the inquiry. They refuse to tell me what they will be asked, they will not even tell me who will be made to go and testify against me. I ask them for copies of the documents that are to be the evidence laid before the inquiry and they refuse to let me see anything. Dr Harst complains of this treatment, and writes to my brother; but we know that the letters will never get through until it is too late, the ports are sealed and there is no news leaving England at all. We are alone, I am alone. Dr Harst tells me that before her trial, there was an inquiry into Anne Boleyn’s conduct. An inquiry: just as they will make into my conduct. The ladies of her chamber were questioned as to what she had said and done, just as mine will be. The evidence from that inquiry was used at her trial. The sentence was passed against her, and the king married Jane Seymour, her maid in waiting, within the month. They will not even hold a trial for me, it will be done on the king’s signature: nothing more. Am I really going to die so that the king can marry little Kitty Howard? Can it really be possible, that I am to die so that this old man can marry a girl that he could bed for little more than the price of a gown?

JANE BOLEYN, WESTMINSTER PALACE,

7 JULY 1540

We come into the city of London by royal barge from Richmond, it is all done very fine for us, the king is sparing no trouble to make sure we are comfortable. There are three of us, Lady Rutland, Catherine Edgecombe and myself: three little Judases come to do our duty. With us, as escort, is Lord Southampton, who must feel he has some ground to regain with the king since he welcomed Anne of Cleves into England and said that she was pretty and merry and queenly. With him are Lord Audley and the Duke of Suffolk, eager to play their parts and curry favour. They will give their evidence against her to the inquiry after we have given ours.