I walk out. The guard outside is holding my horse, but already a crowd has gathered and is murmuring against them. ‘You two, come with me,’ I say. ‘You two, go in and set it to rights.’

I snap my fingers and one of the guard helps me into the saddle. ‘Go quickly,’ I urge him, under my breath. ‘Into the saddle and onwards.’

He does as I bid him and we are away from the courtyard and some distance from my house before anyone knows we are gone. I don’t look back. But I remember, as I ride down the road, the dark smear of the smoke stain in the hall of my house, and my realisation that the people had come into my house and taken what they wanted, and done just what they wished.

‘To Westminster Palace,’ I say. I want to be with the court, behind the walls of the palace, guarded by the royal guard. London no longer feels safe for me. I have become like the queen – a woman uneasy in the heart of her own home.

We round a corner and suddenly we are swirled into a mob of people, dancing laughing cheering people, a great joyous May Day crowd. Someone gets hold of my bridle, and I clench my hand on my whip, but the face that turns up towards me is beaming. ‘Easy!’ I say quickly to the guard at my side who is spurring forwards, his hand on his sword.

‘God be praised, we have our champion!’ the woman says, sharing her happiness with me. ‘He is coming, God bless him! He is coming, and he wil petition for our rights and the good times will come again!’

‘Hurrah!’ shout half a dozen people in earshot, and I smile as if I know what is happening.

‘Good woman,’ I say. ‘I have to get through, let me go, I have to meet my husband. Let me go.’

Someone laughs. ‘You’ll get nowhere till he has come! The streets are packed with people like pilchards in a barrel. There is no going through nor going round.’

‘But won’t you come and see him? He is coming over the bridge.’

‘Oh, come,’ somebody else says. ‘You will never see the like of this again, this is the greatest thing to ever happen in our lifetime, in any lifetime.’

I look around for my two men but they cannot keep their place at my side. They are separated from me by a dozen merrymakers, we are totally outnumbered. I wave to one. ‘Go your ways,’ I call. ‘I am safe enough. You know where we will meet.’ Clearly, there is no point trying to resist this crowd and our safest way is to join with them. One of my men jumps from his horse and pushes his way through to come alongside me.

‘Steady on!’ someone says. ‘No shoving. Whose livery are you wearing?’

‘Leave me,’ I whisper. ‘Meet me later. You know where. Don’t upset them.’