‘At her house at Ashridge.’

‘Are you going alone?’ he asked with concern.

‘No. The queen is sending her doctors and a couple of her councillors. I should think we might be as many as ten in the party.’

He nodded. ‘I am glad. I don’t think the roads are safe. Many of the rebels got away and are heading back for their homes and they are angry men, and armed.’

‘I’ll be well guarded,’ I said. I gnawed on a chop bone and glanced up to see Daniel watching me. I put it to one side, having quite lost my appetite.

‘When will you come back?’ Daniel asked quietly.

‘When Princess Elizabeth is fit to travel,’ I said.

‘Have you heard from Lord Robert?’ my father asked.

‘I am released from his service,’ I said stiffly. I kept my eyes on the counter top, I did not want either of them to see my pain. ‘He is preparing for his death.’

‘It must come,’ my father said simply. ‘Has the queen signed the warrant for the execution of his brother and Lady Jane?’

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘But it will be any day now.’

He nodded. ‘Hard times,’ he said. ‘And who would have thought that the queen could have raised the city and defeated the rebels?’

I shook my head.

‘She can hold this country,’ my father said. ‘While she can command the hearts of the people as she does, she can be queen. She might even be a great queen.’

‘Have you heard from John Dee?’ I asked.

‘He’s travelling,’ my father said. ‘Buying manuscripts by the barrel. He sends them back to me here for safe-keeping. He’s right to stay far from London, his name was mentioned. Most of the rebels have been his friends before now.’

‘They were all men of the court,’ I contradicted him. ‘They knew everyone. Queen Mary herself befriended Edward Courtenay. At one time they said she would marry him.’

‘I heard it was him who named the others?’ Daniel asked.

I nodded.

‘Neither a good subject nor a good friend,’ Daniel ruled.

‘A man with temptations we cannot imagine,’ I said smartly. Then I thought of the Edward Courtenay I knew: a weak mouth and a flushed complexion. A boy pretending to be a man, and not even a pleasant boy. A braggart hoping to leap higher by courting Queen Mary or Lady Elizabeth, or anyone who would help him rise.

‘Forgive me,’ I said to my betrothed. ‘You are right. He is neither a good subject nor a good friend, he’s not even much of a boy.’

His smile warmed his face, and warmed me. I took a piece of bread and felt a sense of ease. ‘How is your mother?’ I asked politely.

‘She has been ill in this cold wet weather, but she is well now.’

‘And your sisters?’

‘They are well. When you come back from Ashridge I should like you to come to my house to meet them.’