* * *

He spent the voyage gazing over the stern to the receding coast of France, long after the formidable profile of the fortress had sunk below the horizon. As the light drained early from the grey January sky he remained standing, looking back, and when the small cold moon came up he was still there, trying to discern some hope on the black horizon. I knew, because I was watching him, as I sat on a coil of rope at the mast, just behind him. His fool, his vassal, wakeful because he was wakeful, anxious because he was anxious, sick with fear for him, for myself, and for whatever the future would bring when we made land in England, an odd trio: a renegade Jew with a Gentile bastard on her hip, and a newly released traitor who had led his men to defeat.

* * *

I had not expected his wife Amy at the quayside, but she was there, hand over her eyes, scanning the deck for him. I saw her before she saw him and said, ‘Your wife,’ in his ear.

He went quickly down the gangplank to her, he did not take her in his arms nor greet her with any sign of affection, but he listened intently to her and then he turned to me.

‘I have to go to court, I have to explain to the queen what has happened at Calais,’ he said briefly. ‘Heads will have to roll for this, perhaps mine.’

‘My lord,’ I breathed.

‘Yes,’ he said savagely. ‘I don’t seem to have done much to advance my family. Hannah, you go with Amy, she is staying with friends in Sussex. I shall send for you there.’

‘My lord.’ I went a little closer. ‘I don’t want to live in the country,’ was all I could say.

Robert Dudley grinned at me. ‘I am sure, sweetheart. I cannot stand it myself. But you must endure it for a month or two. If the queen beheads me for incompetence, then you can make your own way where you please. All right? But if I survive this, I will open my London house and you shall come back to my service. Whatever you wish. How old is the child?’

I hesitated, realising I did not know. ‘He’s nearly two,’ I said.

‘You married his father?’ he asked.

I looked him in the face. ‘Yes.’

‘And named him?’

‘Daniel, for his father.’

He nodded. ‘Amy will take care of you,’ he said. ‘She likes children.’ A snap of his fingers summoned his wife to his side. I saw her shake her head in disagreement, and then lower her eyes when she was over-ruled. When she shot me a look of pure hatred I guessed that he had ordered her to care for me and my son, when she would rather have gone with him to the queen’s court.

She had brought his horse. I watched him swing up into his saddle, his men mount up around him. ‘London,’ he said succinctly and rode his horse north towards whatever fate had for him.