‘The queen is in her confinement chamber and expecting to give birth to a son. The king will return to England when the baby is born; in the meantime he is protecting the borders of his Spanish lands in the Low Countries, and has sworn to retake Calais for England. The Princess Elizabeth has visited her sister and wished her well. The princess is in good health, good spirits and great beauty, praise God. She has told the queen that she will not marry any Spanish prince, nor anyone of the king’s choosing. She will remain a bride of England.’

I thought it an odd way to give news of the queen, but the servants were glad to hear it and there was a murmur of interest at the princess’s name. Here, as in the rest of the country, the mood against the queen was very strong. Losing Calais was blamed on her, since she had taken us into war with the French against the tradition of her family, and against the advice of her council. They blamed her for the hunger in the country and for the bad weather, they blamed her for not having a child earlier, they blamed her for the deaths of the heretics.

A healthy son was the only thing that would redeem her in their eyes, and some of them did not want even him. Some of them, perhaps most of them now, would have her die childless and the crown go straight to the Princess Elizabeth—another woman, and though they were sick of queens, this was a good Protestant princess and one who had already refused to marry a Spanish prince and who now swore that she had no inclination to marry at all.

There was a little murmur at the news and they began to disperse. Robert shook John Philips warmly by the hand, kissed Lady Philips on her cheek and then turned to me.

‘Hannah? Is that really you?’

I came down the stairs slowly, conscious of his wife behind him, still standing in the doorway.

‘My lord,’ I said. I reached the bottom step and dropped him a curtsey.

‘I would never have known you,’ he said incredulously. ‘You are more than a girl, Hannah. You are a woman grown, and out of your breeches at last! Did you have to learn how to walk all over again? Show me your shoes! Go on! Are you in high heels? And a babe in your arms? This is a transformation!’

I smiled but I could feel Amy’s eyes boring into me. ‘This is my son,’ I said. ‘I thank you for saving us from Calais.’

His face clouded over for a moment. ‘I wish I could have saved them all.’

‘Have you any news from the town?’ I asked him. ‘My husband and his family may still be there. Did you send my letter onward?’

He shook his head. ‘I gave it to my pageboy and told him to give it to a fisherman who goes out deep into the French seas, and asked him to pass it to a French ship if he met with one, but I could do no more for you. We have heard nothing of the men who were captured. We have not even begun peace proposals. King Philip will keep us at war with France for as long as he can, and the queen is in no position to argue. There will be some exchange of prisoners, and men sent home, but God knows when.’ He shook his head as if to dislodge the memories of the fall of the infallible castle. ‘You know, I have never seen you in a gown before. You are transformed!’