‘And if he does then let it be a lesson to you,’ she says firmly. ‘Let it be a lesson to you to mend your ways. You don’t deserve to go to the queen’s court as light as you have been with Francis Dereham. No true lady should have you in her chambers when you have played the slut with such a man.’

This is so unkind that I give a little gasp and feel the tears coming.

‘Now don’t cry,’ she says wearily. ‘Don’t cry, Katherine. You will only make your eyes red.’

Instantly, I hold my nose to stop the tears coming. ‘But if he tells me I am to stay here and do nothing I shall die!’ I say thickly. ‘I will be fifteen next year, and then I will be eighteen, and then I will be nineteen and then I will be twenty and too old for marriage and I will die here, serving my grandmother, never having been anywhere, and never seen anything, and never danced at court.’

‘Oh, nonsense!’ she exclaims crossly. ‘Can you never think of anything but your vanity, Katherine? Besides, some would think you have done quite enough already for a maid of fourteen.’

‘Duthing,’ I say, with my nose still pinched. I let it go and press my cool fingers against my cheeks. ‘I have done nothing.’

‘Of course, you will serve the queen,’ she says scornfully. ‘Your uncle is not likely to miss such a place for one of his family, however badly you have behaved.’

‘The girls said . . .’

‘The girls are jealous of you because you are going, you ninny. If you were staying they would be all over you with pretend sympathy.’

This is so true that even I can see it. ‘Oh, yes.’

‘So wash your face again and come to my lady’s chamber. Your uncle will be here at any moment.’

I go as fast as I can, pausing only to tell Agnes and Joan and Margaret that I know full well I am going to court and that I never believed their spite for a moment, and then I hear them shouting: ‘Katherine! Katherine! He is here!’ and I dash down to my lady’s own parlour and there he is, my uncle, standing before the fire and warming his backside.

It would take more than a fire to warm this man through. My grandmother says that he is the king’s hammer; whenever there is hard and dirty work to do it is my uncle who leads the English army to batter the enemy into submission. When the North rose up to defend the old religion just two years ago when I was a little girl, it was my uncle who brought the rebels to their senses. He promised them a pardon and then cozened them to the gallows. He saved the king’s throne and he saved the king the trouble of fighting his own battles and putting down a great rebellion. My grandmother says that he knows no other argument but the noose. She says he strung up thousands even though inwardly, he agreed with their cause. His own faith did not stop him. Nothing will stop him. I can see by his face that he is a hard man, a man not easily softened; but he has come to see me and I will show him what sort of niece he has.