I don’t quite understand this so I say nothing to it. There is an awkward silence and clearly it is my turn to speak. I have to think hard to find something to say and the correct English words. Finally I have it: ‘You like to joust?’ I ask.

The scowl he turns on me is quite terrifying, his eyebrows are drawn down so hard that they almost cover his furious little eyes. I have clearly said utterly the wrong thing and offended him very deeply. I gasp, I don’t know what I have said that is so very bad.

‘Excuse me, forgive . . .’ I stammer.

‘I like to joust?’ he repeats bitterly. ‘Indeed yes, I would like to joust, but for being crippled with pain with a wound that never heals, that is poisoning me every day, that will be the death of me. Probably in a matter of months. That makes it agony to walk and agony to stand and agony to ride, but no fool thinks of it.’

Lady Lisle steps forwards. ‘Sire, Your Grace, what the queen means to say is, do you like to watch the joust?’ she says quickly. ‘She did not mean to offend you, Your Grace. She is learning our language with remarkable speed, but she cannot help small errors.’

‘She cannot help being as dull as a block,’ he shouts at her. Spittle from his pursed mouth sprays her face but she does not flinch. Steadily she sinks into a curtsey and stays down low.

He looks her over but does not tell her to rise. He leaves her in her discomfort and turns to me. ‘I like to watch it because it is all that is left for me,’ he says bitterly. ‘You know nothing; but I was the greatest champion. I took on all-comers. Not once, but every time. I jousted in disguise so that no-one did me any favours, and even when they rode as hard as they could I still defeated them. I was the greatest champion in England. Nobody could defeat me, I would ride all day, I would break dozens of lances. Do you understand that, you dullard?’

Still shaken, I nod, though in truth, he speaks so fast and so angrily that I can understand hardly any of this. I try to smile but my lips are trembling.

‘No-one could beat me,’ he insists. ‘Ever. Not one knight. I was the greatest jouster in England, perhaps in the world. I was unbeatable and I could ride all day and dance all night, and be up the next day at dawn to go hunting. You know nothing. Nothing. Do I like to joust?—good God, I was the heart of chivalry! I was the darling of the crowd, I was the toast of every tournament! There was none like me! I was the greatest knight since those of the round table! I was a legend.’

‘No-one who saw you could ever forget it,’ Lady Lisle says sweetly, raising her head. ‘You are the greatest knight that ever entered a ring. Even now I have never seen your equal. There is no equal. None of them in these days can equal you.’