‘The Protestant princess is a very martyr to her faith and her plain-faced sister is as dogged as a pack of bear-baiters, hounding the young woman’s pure conscience.’

The queen, resplendent in rich gowns and delighting in her mother’s jewels, looked tawdry beside the blaze of Elizabeth’s hair, the martyr whiteness of her pallor and the extreme modesty of her black dress. However the queen dressed, whatever she wore, Elizabeth, the Protestant princess, gleamed with the radiance of a girl on the edge of womanhood. The queen beside her, old enough to be her mother, looked weary, and overwhelmed by the task she had inherited.

So I could not simply go to Elizabeth’s rooms and ask to see her. I might as well have announced myself to the ambassador from Spain who watched Elizabeth’s every step, and reported everything to the queen. But one day, as I was walking behind her in the gallery, she stumbled for a moment. I went to help her, and she took my arm.

‘I have broken the heel on my shoe, I must send it to the cobbler,’ she said.

‘Let me help you to your rooms,’ I offered, and added in a whisper, ‘I have a message for you, from Lord Robert Dudley.’

She did not even flicker a sideways glance at me, and in that absolute control I saw at once that she was a consummate plotter and that the queen was right to fear her.

‘I can receive no messages without my sister’s blessing,’ Elizabeth said sweetly. ‘But I would be very glad if you would help me to my chamber, I wrenched my foot when the heel broke.’

She bent down and took off her shoe. I could not help but notice the pretty embroidery on her stocking, but I thought it was not the time to ask her for the pattern. Always, everything she owned, everything she did, fascinated me. I gave her my arm. A courtier passing looked at us both. ‘The princess has broken the heel of her shoe,’ I explained. He nodded, and went on. He, for one, was not going to trouble himself to help her.

Elizabeth kept her eyes straight ahead, she limped slightly on her stockinged foot and it made her walk slowly. She gave me plenty of time to deliver the message that she had said she could not hear without permission.

‘Lord Robert asks you to summon John Dee as your tutor,’ I said quietly. ‘He said, “without fail”.’

Still, she did not look at me.

‘Can I tell him you will do so?’

‘You can tell him that I will not do anything that would displease my sister the queen,’ she said easily. ‘But I have long wanted to study with Mr Dee and I was going to ask him to read with me. I am particularly interested in reading the teaching of the early fathers of the Holy Church.’

She shot one veiled glance at me.

‘I am trying to learn about the Roman Catholic church,’ she said. ‘My education has been much neglected until now.’