‘We have come to take you to the Tower,’ he says.

I nod. I had thought we would go to Kenninghall but perhaps this is even better, the king often uses the Tower as his London palace, perhaps I am to meet him there. ‘As you wish, my lord duke,’ I say sweetly.

He looks a little surprised at my demure tone. I have to try very hard not to giggle.

‘Katherine, you are to be executed,’ he says. ‘You will go to the Tower as a condemned traitor.’

‘Traitor?’ I repeat.

‘I told you last time,’ he says impatiently. ‘You were convicted by a Bill of Attainder. I told you. You are not required to stand trial, you understood that. You confessed your sins. That confession has been entered against your name. Now the time has come for the sentence.’

‘I confessed so that I would be forgiven,’ I point out.

He looks at me quite exasperated. ‘But you have not been forgiven,’ he says. ‘All that was left to agree was the sentence.’

‘And?’ I say a little pertly.

He takes a deep breath as if to dispel his irritation. ‘His Grace has agreed that you shall be put to death.’

‘He will forgive me when I get to the Tower?’ I suggest.

To my increasing anxiety he shakes his head. ‘For God’s sake, girl, don’t be such an idiot! You cannot hope for that. There is no reason to hope for it. When he first heard what you had done, he drew his sword and said he would kill you himself. It is over, Katherine. You must prepare yourself for death.’

‘That can’t happen,’ I say. ‘I’m only sixteen. Nobody could put me to death when I’m only sixteen.’

‘They can,’ he says bleakly. ‘Believe me, they will.’

‘The king will stop them.’

‘It is his own wish.’

‘You will stop them.’

His eyes are as cold as a fish on a marble slab. ‘I will not.’

‘Well, somebody must stop them!’

He turns his head. ‘Take her,’ he says.

Half a dozen men march into the room, the royal guard who used to parade so handsomely for me.

‘I shan’t go,’ I say. I am really afraid now. I stand to my tallest height and I scowl at them. ‘I shan’t go. You can’t make me.’

They hesitate a little, and look at my uncle. He makes a quick chopping gesture with his hand. ‘Take her,’ he says again.

I turn and run into my privy chamber, swinging the door behind me, but it delays them for only a moment, they catch it before it bangs, they are after me so quickly. I lay hold of one of the posts of the bed and I latch my fingers around it. ‘I shan’t go!’ I shout. ‘You can’t make me. You can’t touch me! I am Queen of England! Nobody can touch me!’

One of the men grabs me around the waist. The other reaches forwards and unlaces my hands, as soon as my hands are free I slap the first one round the face as hard as I can and he lets me go, but a third man grabs me again and the second has my hands this time so though I struggle, he forces them behind my back and I hear one of the sleeves tear. ‘Let me go!’ I scream. ‘You can’t hold me. I am Katherine, Queen of England. You can’t touch me, my person is sacred. Let me go!’