‘It is a bad story and not worth the telling,’ she says.

‘Not you as well! I will be told, Catherine. She is my aunt too, you know. I have a right to know.’

‘Oh, I’ll tell you. But it still won’t make it a good story. The queen was accused of adultery with her own brother, my uncle.’ Catherine speaks quietly, as if it is an everyday event. ‘Also with other men. She was found guilty, he was found guilty, the men were found guilty. The queen and her brother George were both sentenced to death. I went into the Tower with her. I was her maid in the Tower. I was with her when they came for her, and she went out to die.’

I look at this girl, this cousin of mine, my own age, my own family. ‘You were in the Tower?’ I whisper.

She nods. ‘As soon as it was over my stepfather came and took me away. My mother swore we would never go back to court.’ She smiles, and shrugs. ‘But here I am,’ she says cheerfully. ‘As my stepfather says: where else can a girl go?’

‘You were in the Tower?’ I cannot get rid of the thought of it.

‘I heard them build her scaffold,’ she says seriously. ‘I prayed with her. I saw her go out for the last time. It was terrible. It was truly terrible. I don’t like to think of it, even now.’ She turns her face away and briefly closes her eyes. ‘It was terrible,’ she repeats. ‘It is a terrible death to die.’

‘She was guilty of treason,’ I whisper.

‘She was found guilty by the king’s court of treason,’ she corrects me, but I don’t quite see the difference.

‘So she was guilty.’

She looks at me again. ‘Well, anyway, it is a long time ago, and whether she was guilty or not, she was executed at the king’s command, and she died in her faith, and she is dead now.’

‘Then she must have been guilty of treason. The king would not execute an innocent woman.’

She bows her head to hide her face. ‘As you say, the king is not capable of making a mistake.’

‘Do you think she was innocent?’ I whisper.

‘I know she was not a witch, I know she was not guilty of treason, I am sure she was innocent of adultery with all those men,’ she says firmly. ‘But I do not argue with the king. His Grace must know best.’

‘Was she very afraid?’ I whisper.

‘Yes.’

There seems nothing more to say. Lady Rochford comes into the room and takes in the sight of the two of us, head to head. ‘What are you doing, Catherine?’ she asks irritably.

Catherine looks up. ‘Sorting embroidery silks for Her Grace.’

Lady Rochford gives me a long, hard look. She knows I am hardly likely to start sewing if there is no-one watching. ‘Put them in the box carefully when you have finished,’ she says, and goes out again.