My father snapped his fingers to order me to go, but the young lord said: ‘Wait. Let the boy answer. What harm is it? There are only two of us, lad. How many can you see?’

I looked from the older man to the handsome young man and saw that there were, indeed, only two of them. The third, the man in white as bright as burnished pewter, had gone as if he had never been there at all.

‘I saw a third man behind you, sir,’ I said to the older one. ‘Out in the street. I am sorry. He is not there now.’

‘She is a fool but a good girl,’ my father said, waving me away.

‘No, wait,’ the young man said. ‘Wait a minute. I thought this was a lad. A girl? Why d’you have her dressed as a boy?’

‘And who was the third man?’ his companion asked me.

My father became more and more anxious under the barrage of questions. ‘Let her go, my lords,’ he said pitifully. ‘She is nothing more than a girl, a little maid with a weak mind, still shocked by her mother’s death. I can show you my books, and I have some fine manuscripts you may like to see as well. I can show you . . .’

‘I want to see them indeed,’ the older man said firmly. ‘But first, I want to speak with the child. May I?’

My father subsided, unable to refuse such great men. The older man took me by the hand and led me into the centre of the little shop. A glimmer of light through the leaded window fell on my face and he put a hand under my chin and turned my face one way and then the other.

‘What was the third man like?’ he asked me quietly.

‘All in white,’ I said through half-closed lips. ‘And shining.’

‘What did he wear?’

‘I could only see a white cape.’

‘And on his head?’

‘I could only see the whiteness.’

‘And his face?’

‘I couldn’t see his face for the brightness of the light.’

‘D’you think he had a name, child?’

I could feel the word coming into my mouth though I did not understand it. ‘Uriel.’

The hand underneath my chin was very still. The man looked into my face as if he would read me like one of my father’s books. ‘Uriel?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Have you heard that name before?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Do you know who Uriel is?’

I shook my head. ‘I just thought it was the name of the one who came in with you. But I never heard the name before I just said it.’

The younger man turned to my father. ‘When you say she is a fool, d’you mean that she has the Sight?’

‘She talks out of turn,’ my father said stubbornly. ‘Nothing more. She is a good girl, I send her to church every day of her life. She means no offence, she just speaks out. She cannot help it. She is a fool, nothing more.’