‘Gracious no,’ I say feebly. ‘Oh, gracious, no.’ This is very bad indeed but if he has taken Thomas with him then at least my dearest love is safe, and we are not suspected. ‘He will be lonely without me,’ I say, hoping that the archbishop will name his companions.

‘He is like to go mad of grief,’ he says flatly.

‘Oh, dear.’ Well, what can I say? The king was mad as a March hare before any of this, and that in fairness cannot be laid at my door.

‘Has he no companions?’ I ask cleverly. Pray God that Thomas is safe.

‘The groom of his chamber,’ he replies. So thank God Thomas is in no danger. ‘All you can do now is confess.’

‘But I have done nothing!’ I exclaim.

‘You took Dereham into your household.’

‘At my grandmother’s request. And he has not been alone with me, nor so much as touched my hand.’ I draw a little strength from my true innocence. ‘Archbishop, you have done very wrong to upset the king. You don’t know what he’s like when he is upset.’

‘All you can do is confess. All you can do is confess.’

This is so like being some poor soul trudging towards Smithfield with a faggot of wood to be burned to death that I stop, and giggle, from sheer terror. ‘Really, Archbishop, I have done nothing. And I confess every day, you know I do, and I have never done anything.’

‘You laugh?’ he says, horrified.

‘Oh, only from the shock!’ I say impatiently. ‘You must let me go to Oatlands, Archbishop. Indeed you must. I have to see the king and explain.’

‘No, you have to explain to me, my child,’ he says earnestly. ‘You have to tell me what you did at Lambeth, and what you did thereafter. You have to make a full and honest confession and perhaps then I can save you from the scaffold.’

‘The scaffold?’ I shriek the word as if I have never heard it before. ‘What do you mean, the scaffold?’

‘If you have betrayed the king then this is an act of treason,’ he says slowly and clearly, as if I am a child. ‘The punishment for treason is death. You must know that.’

‘But I have not betrayed him,’ I gabble at him. ‘The scaffold! I could swear it on the Bible. I could swear it on my life. I’ve never committed treason, I’ve never committed anything! Ask anyone! Ask anyone! I am a good girl, you know I am, the king calls me his rose, his rose without a thorn. I have no other will than his . . .’

‘Indeed, you will have to swear to all of this on the Bible. And so you should make very sure that there is not a word of a lie. Now, tell me about what took place between you and the young man at Lambeth. And remember, God hears every word you say, and besides, we already have his confession, he has told us everything.’