The bed was heaped with papers and a small pile of clothes. My father was standing before it. I recognised at once the signs of packing for a long journey.

‘Oh, no,’ I said.

My father turned to me. ‘It’s time for us to go,’ he said. ‘Did they give you permission to come away for a week?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But they expect me back. I came running down here in terror that you were ill.’

‘That gives us a week,’ he said, disregarding my complaint. ‘More than enough time to get to France.’

‘Not again,’ I said flatly. ‘You said we were to stay in England.’

‘It’s not safe,’ Daniel insisted, coming into the room behind me. ‘The queen’s marriage is to go ahead, and Prince Philip of Spain will bring in the Inquisition. Already the gallows are up on the street corners, and there is an informer in every village. We cannot stay here.’

‘You said we would be English.’ I appealed past him to my father. ‘And the gallows are for traitors, not for heretics.’

‘She will hang traitors today and heretics tomorrow,’ Daniel said firmly. ‘She has discovered that the only way to make herself safe on the throne is through blood. She executed her own cousin, she will execute her own sister. Can you doubt that she would hesitate for a moment to hang you?’

I shook my head. ‘She is not executing Elizabeth, she is struggling to show her mercy. It is not about Elizabeth’s religion, it is about her obedience. And we are obedient subjects. And she is fond of me.’

Daniel took my hand and led me to the bed, which was covered with rolls of manuscript. ‘See these? Every one is now a forbidden book,’ he said. ‘These are your father’s fortune, they are your dowry. When your father came to England these were his library, his great collection, now they would serve only as evidence against him. What are we to do with them? Burn them before they burn us?’

‘Keep them safe for better times,’ I said, incurably the daughter of a librarian.

He shook his head. ‘There is nowhere safe for them, and there is nowhere safe for their owner in a country ruled by Spain. We have to go away and take them with us.’

‘But where do we have to go now?’ I cried. It was the wail of a child who has been too long travelling.

‘Venice,’ he said shortly. ‘France, then Italy, and then Venice. I shall study at Padua, your father will be able to open a print shop in Venice, and we will be safe there. The Italians have a love of learning, the city is filled with scholars. Your father can buy and sell texts again.’

I waited, I knew what was coming next. ‘And we will marry,’ he said. ‘We will marry as soon as we arrive in France.’

‘And your mother and your sisters?’ I asked. It was living with them that I dreaded as much as marriage.