I hesitated, ready to argue, and then I felt the most curious sensation of my life: the desire to tell the truth to someone. I had never before felt the desire to be honest, I had spent all my life enmeshed in lies: a Jew in a Christian country, a girl in boy’s clothing, a passionate young woman dressed as a Holy Fool, and now a young woman betrothed to one man and in love with another.

‘If I tell you the truth about something, will you help me?’ I asked.

‘I will give you the best help I can,’ he said.

‘Daniel, talking with you is like bargaining with a Pharisee.’

‘Hannah, talking with you is like catching fish in the Sea of Galilee. What is it you would tell me?’

I would have turned away but he caught me and drew me back close to him. His body pressed against me, I felt his hardness and I suddenly understood—an older girl would have understood long before—that this was the currency of desire. He was my betrothed. He desired me. I desired him. All I had to do was to tell him the truth.

‘Daniel, this is the truth. I saw that the king would die, I named the day. I saw that Jane would be crowned queen. I saw that Queen Mary would be queen, and I have seen a glimpse of her future, which is heartbreak, and the future of England, which is unclear to me. John Dee says I have a gift of Sight. He tells me it comes in part from me being a virgin and I want to honour the gift. And I want to marry you. And I desire you. And I cannot help but love Lord Robert. All those things. All at once.’ I had my forehead pressed against his chest, I could feel the buttons of his jerkin against my forehead and I had the uncomfortable thought that when I looked up he would see the mark of his buttons printed on my skin and I would look, not desirable, but foolish. Nonetheless I stayed, holding him close, while he considered the rush of truths I had told him. Moments later he eased me back from him and looked into my eyes.

‘Is it an honourable love, as a servant to a master?’ he asked.

He saw my eyes shift away from his serious gaze and he put his hand under my chin to hold my face up to him. ‘Tell me, Hannah. You are to be my wife. I have a right to know. Is it an honourable love?’

I felt my lip quiver and the tears come to my eyes. ‘It’s all muddled up,’ I said weakly. ‘I love him for what he is . . .’ I was silenced by the impossibility of conveying to Daniel the desirability of Robert Dudley; his looks, his clothes, his wealth, his boots, his horses were all beyond my vocabulary. ‘He is . . . wonderful.’ I did not dare look into his eyes. ‘I love him for what he might become—he will be freed, he will be a great man, a great man, Daniel. He will be the maker of a Prince of England. And tonight he is in the Tower, waiting for the sentence of death, and I think of him, and I think of my mother waiting, like he is waiting, for the morning when they took her out . . .’ I lost my voice, I shook my head. ‘He is a prisoner as she was. He is on the edge of death, as she was. Of course I love him.’