‘Elizabeth? You are sure it is a girl?’

‘I am sure. She will be Elizabeth, the first of many children.’

‘If they don’t behead me for treason.’

‘They won’t behead you. I shall speak to the king, and I shall speak to Queen Catherine, his mother, if I have to. And we will be happy.’

* * *

When he leaves me that night, he is still torn between delight that we are to marry, and remorse that he has led me into trouble. I sit up at my window, my hand on my belly, and I look at the moon. Tonight there is a new moon, in the first quarter, a good moon for new beginnings, new hopes, and for the start of a new life. On a whim, I take out the cards that my great-aunt gave me, and I spread them out face down before me. My hand hovers over one card and then another, before I choose one. It is my favourite card of all: the Queen of Cups, the queen of water and of love, Melusina’s own card, a card of insight and tenderness. A girl whose card this is will be a queen herself, a beloved queen.

‘I shall marry your father,’ I say to the little spark of life inside me. ‘And I shall bring you into the world. I know you will be beautiful for your father is the most handsome man in England, but I wonder what you will do with your life, and how far you will go when it all becomes clear to you – when you too see the man that you love, and know the life that you want.’

GRAFTON, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE,

AUTUMN 1436

We wait till the court is on its slow way back to London, staying overnight at Northampton. Early one morning, before my ladies are stirring, I slip out of my rooms and meet Richard at the stables. He has Merry saddled and bridled, and his own war horse ready to go, and we ride down the little road to his home village of Grafton. A priest lives here alone, in his retreat, and there is a little chapel near to the manor house. Richard’s father is waiting there, his face stern and anxious, and he has brought three witnesses. Richard goes to find the priest as his father steps forwards.

‘I hope you know what you are doing, Your Grace,’ he says bluntly, as he helps me down from my horse.

‘I am marrying the finest man I have ever known.’

‘It will cost you dear,’ he warns.

‘It would be worse to lose him.’

He nods as if he is not so sure, but he offers me hisarm and he walks me into the chapel. At the eastern end there is a little stone altar, a cross and a candle burning. Before it stands the priest in the brown gown of the Franciscan order, and beside him, Richard, turning and smiling shyly at me as if we were before a crowd of hundreds and wearing cloth of gold.