‘I have never spied on anyone,’ I said, conveniently forgetting my work for Lord Robert. ‘The queen sent me to you, as I told you. Now I see that you are respected and well-treated at court, I can leave you, you don’t need me.’

‘I shall decide what service I need and what I can do without,’ she said at once. ‘Not you.’

I made my little pageboy bow. ‘Please, Princess, let me go to my father and my betrothed.’

She was diverted by the thought of my marriage, as I knew she would be. She smiled at me, the true Tudor charm shining through her irritability. ‘Is that what you are after? Ready to put off your motley and go to find your lover? Do you think you are ready to be a woman, little fool? Have you studied me enough?’

‘You would not be my study if I wanted to be a good wife,’ I said sharply.

She gave a ripple of laughter. ‘Thank God, no. But what have you learned from me?’

‘How to torment a man to madness, how to make a man follow you without even turning your head, and how to get down from your horse so you press against every inch of him.’

She threw back her head and laughed, a loud genuine laugh. ‘You’ve learned well,’ she said. ‘I only hope you get as much joy from these skills as I do.’

‘But what profit?’ I asked.

The glance Elizabeth shot me was one of acute calculation. ‘Some amusement,’ she conceded. ‘And real profit. You and I have slept safer in our beds because the king is in love with me, Hannah. And my path to the throne has been a little clearer since the most powerful man in the world swore he would support me.’

‘You have his promise?’ I asked, amazed at her.

She nodded. ‘Oh, yes. My sister is betrayed more deeply than she knows. Half her country is in love with me, and now her husband too. My advice to you, as you go to your husband, is never to trust him and never love him more than he loves you.’

I shook my head, smiling. ‘I mean to be a good wife,’ I said. ‘He is a good man. I mean to leave this court and go to him and become a good and steady wife to him.’

‘Ah, you can’t be that,’ she said bluntly. ‘You’re not a woman grown yet. You’re afraid of your own power. You’re afraid of his desire. You’re afraid of your own desire. You’re afraid of being a woman.’

I said nothing, though it was the truth.

‘Oh, go then, little fool. But when you are bored, and you will be bored, you can come back to me again. I like having you in my service.’

I bowed and took myself off to the queen’s rooms.

The moment I opened the door I knew that there was something wrong. My first thought was that Queen Mary was ill, somehow fatally ill and yet not attended. The room was empty of her women, she was all but alone. The room was gloomy; with the shutters closed, it was cold, as the summer heat did not penetrate the thick walls. She was crouched on the floor, doubled-up, folded over her knees, her forehead pressed on the cold hearthstone at the empty fireside. Only Jane Dormer was with her, seated in the shadows behind her, in stubborn silence. When I went to the queen and knelt before her I saw her face was wet with tears.