Leonard Dacre, one of the greatest lords of the North, who has been in London all this while, is now returned home. Instead of seeing that the battle is over, and lost, even with Elizabeth’s great army quartered on his doorstep, he summons his tenants, saying that he needs them to defend the queen’s peace. At once, as always, guided by the twin lights of his fear and his genius at making enemies, Cecil advises the queen to arrest Dacre on suspicion of treason, and forced into his own defense, the lord raises his standard and marches against the queen.

Hastings bangs open the door into my private room as if I am traitor myself. “Did you know this of Dacre?” he demands.

I shake my head. “How should I? I thought he was in London.”

“He has attacked Lord Hunsdon’s army and got clean away. He swears he will raise the North.”

I feel a sinking fear for her. “Not again! Is he coming here?”

“God knows what he is doing.”

“Dacre is a loyal man. He would not fight the queen’s army.”

“He has just done so and is now an outlaw running for his life like the other Northern earls.”

“He is as loyal as—”

“As you?” Hastings insinuates.

I find that my fists are clenched. “You are a guest in my house,” I remind him, my voice trembling with rage.

He nods. “Excuse me. These are troubling times. I wish to God I could just take her and leave.”

“It’s not safe yet,” I say swiftly. “Who knows where Dacre’s men might be? You can’t take her away from this castle until the countryside is safe. You will raise the North again if they kidnap her from you.”

“I know. I’ll have to wait for my orders from Cecil.”

“Yes, he will command everything now,” I say, unable to hide my bitterness. “Thanks to you, he will be without rival. You have made our steward our master.”

Hastings nods, pleased with himself. “He is without equal,” he says. “No man has a better vision of what England can be. He alone saw that we had to become a Protestant country, we had to separate ourselves from the others. He saw that we have to impose order on Ireland, we have to subordinate Scotland, and we have to go outward, to the other countries of the world, and make them our own.”

“A bad man to have as an enemy,” I remark.

Hastings cracks a brutal laugh. “I’ll say so. And your friend the other queen will learn it. D’you know how many deaths Elizabeth has ordered?”

“Deaths?”

“Executions. As punishment for the uprising.”

I feel myself grow cold. “I did not know she had ordered any. Surely there will be trials for treason for the leaders only, and...”