‘Are you happy to do this?’ John Dee asked.

‘What are you going to ask?’

‘If the queen will have a boy child,’ Robert said. ‘There is nothing more important to know than this. And if we can win back Calais.’

I looked towards John Dee. ‘And if my husband lives,’ I reminded him.

‘We will see what is given us,’ he said gently. ‘Let us pray.’

I closed my eyes and at the rolling gentle sounds of the Latin I felt myself restored, returned. I was at home again, at home with my gift, with my lord, and with myself. When I opened my eyes the candle flame was warm as well as bright on my face and I smiled at John Dee.

‘You still have your gift?’ he asked.

‘I am sure of it,’ I said quietly.

‘Watch the flame and tell us what you hear or what you see.’

The candle flame bobbed in a little draught, its brightness filled my mind. It was like the summer sunshine of Spain, and I thought I heard my mother calling me, her voice happy and filled with confidence that nothing would ever go wrong. Then abruptly I heard a tremendous banging that made me gasp and leap to my feet, jolted out of my dream with my heart thudding in fear of arrest.

John Dee was white-faced. We were discovered and ruined. Lord Robert had his sword from his belt and a knife from his boot.

‘Open up!’ came the shout from the barred door and there was a great blow against the wood which made it rock inward. I was certain that it was the Inquisition. I crossed the room to Lord Robert. ‘Please, my lord,’ I said rapidly. ‘Don’t let them burn me. Run me through, before they take me, and save my son.’

In one fluid movement he was up on the window-seat, pulled me up beside him and kicked out the window pane. ‘Jump out,’ he advised me. ‘And run if you can. I’ll hold them for a moment.’ There was another terrible blow on the door. He nodded at John Dee. ‘Open up,’ he said.

John Dee flung open the door and Lady Amy Dudley fell into the room. ‘You!’ she exclaimed as soon as she saw me, half out of the window. ‘As I thought! Whore!’

A servant behind her raised a mace in a half-apologetic gesture. The Philipses’ elegant linenfold door panels were splintered beyond repair. Robert slammed his sword back into the scabbard, and gestured to John Dee. ‘Please, John, do shut what is left of the door,’ he said wearily. ‘This will be half way round the county by dawn.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Amy demanded, striding into the room, her eyes taking in the table, the candles, their flames guttering in the draught from the window, the holy symbols. ‘What foul lechery?’

‘Nothing,’ Robert said wearily.

‘What is she doing here with you? And him?’

He stepped forward and took her hands. ‘My lady, this is my friend and this my loyal servant. We were praying together for my prosperity.’