‘Hello,’ he said, equally inadequate.

‘Let’s go into the shop,’ my father said, casting another cautious glance up and down the street. He led me over the threshold and shut the door behind us. ‘We were packing up here and then Daniel was going to fetch you. Why are you here?’

‘I was running away from court,’ I said. ‘I didn’t dare wait for you to come. I was coming to you.’

‘Why?’ Daniel asked. ‘What has happened?’

‘They are arresting men for plotting to overthrow the queen,’ I said. ‘Cardinal Pole is making the inquiry and I am afraid of him. I thought he would discover where I had come from, or . . .’ I broke off.

Daniel’s glance at me was acute. ‘Were you involved in the plot?’ he asked abruptly.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Not really.’

At his hard sceptical look I flushed red.

‘I was involved enough,’ I admitted.

‘Thank God we are here then,’ he said. ‘Have you dined?’

‘I’m not hungry,’ I said. ‘I can help to pack.’

‘Good, for we have a ship that leaves on the one o’clock tide.’

I slipped off the printer’s stool and set to work with Daniel, my father, and our next-door neighbour, carrying the boxes and barrels and pieces of the press to the wagon. The horses stood still and quiet. One woman threw up her window and asked us what we were doing and our neighbour went and told her that at last the shop was to be let and the old bookseller’s rubbish was being cleared away.

It was near ten o’clock at night by the time we had finished and a late spring moon, all warm and yellow, had risen and was lighting the street. My father swung himself into the back of the wagon, Daniel and I rode on the box. Our neighbour shook hands all round and bade us farewell. Daniel signalled for the horses to start and they leaned against the traces and the wagon eased forward.

‘This is like last time,’ Daniel remarked. ‘I hope you don’t jump ship again.’

I shook my head. ‘I won’t.’

‘No outstanding promises?’ he smiled.

‘No,’ I said sadly. ‘The queen does not need my company, she does not want anyone but the king and I think he will never come home to her. And though the Princess Elizabeth’s household is charged with treason, she has the favour of the king. She might be imprisoned but she won’t be killed now. She is determined to survive and wait.’

‘She does not fear that the queen might pass her over and give the crown to another—Margaret Douglas or Mary Stuart, perhaps?’

‘She had her future foretold,’ I said to him in a tiny whisper. ‘And she was assured that she will be the heir. She does not know how long she will have to wait but she is confident.’

‘And who foretold her future?’ he asked acutely.

At my guilty silence he nodded. ‘I should think you do indeed need to come with me this time,’ he said levelly.