‘I am a fool, not a spy,’ I said. ‘I am your fool, not your spy.’

‘You are my fool and you shall give me the gift of your counsel,’ she ordered. ‘And I say, go to Elizabeth, serve her as you serve me, and report to me everything you see and hear, but more importantly wait for your gift to speak. I think you will see through her lies and be able to tell me what is in her heart.’

‘But if she is sick and dying . . .’

For a moment the hard lines around her mouth and eyes softened. ‘If she dies then I will have lost my only sister,’ she said bleakly. ‘I will have sent inquisitors to her when I should have gone myself and held her in my arms. I don’t forget that she was a baby when I first cared for her, I don’t forget that she learned to walk holding on to my fingers.’ She paused for a moment, smiling at the thought of those fat little hands clutching at her for support, and then she shook her head, as if she would dismiss the love she had for that little red-headed toddler.

‘It comes too pat,’ she said simply. ‘Tom Wyatt is arrested, his army fails, and Elizabeth takes to her bed too ill to write, too ill to reply to me, too ill to come to London. She is as ill as she was when Jane was put on the throne and I wanted her at my side. She is always ill when there is danger. She has been plotting against me and she has suffered nothing but a reverse; not a change of heart. I have to know if she and I can live together as queen and heir, as sisters; or that the worst has come to me and she is my enemy and will stop at nothing till my death.’ She turned her dark honest gaze back to me. ‘You can tell me that,’ she said. ‘It is no dishonour to warn me if she hates me and would have me dead. You can bring her to London, or write to me that she is indeed ill. You shall be my eyes and ears at her bedside and God will guide you.’

I surrendered to her conviction. ‘When do I leave?’

‘Tomorrow at dawn,’ the queen said. ‘You can visit your father tonight if you wish, you need not come to dinner.’

I rose to my feet and gave her a little bow. She put out her hand to me. ‘Hannah,’ she said quietly.

‘Yes, Your Grace?’

‘I wish you could see into her heart and see that she is able to love me, and able to turn to the true faith.’

‘I hope I see that too,’ I said fervently.

Her mouth was working, holding back tears. ‘But if she is faithless, you must tell me, even though it will break my heart.’

‘I will.’