‘Good luck in Calais,’ Robert Dudley said, smiling. ‘Few women succeed in finding the love of their life. I hope you do, little Mistress Boy.’

Then he waved and stepped back, and let me go.

* * *

It was a cold long ride back to St James’s palace but Danny’s little body was warm as he rode before me, and every now and then I could hear a delighted little carol of song from him.

I rode in silence, thoughtful. The end of my journey when I would see the queen loomed very large ahead of me. I did not yet know what I would say to her. I did not yet know what I had seen, nor what to report. Elizabeth raised her right hand and took the oath she had been asked to do, her part was done. Now it was for me to judge whether or not she meant it.

When we got to the palace the hall was subdued, the few guards playing cards, the firelight flickering, the torches burning low. Will Somers was in the queen’s presence chamber, with half a dozen others, mostly paid court officials and physicians. There were no friends or beloved kin waiting to see the queen, praying for her in her illness. She was not England’s darling any more, and the chamber rang with emptiness.

Danny spotted Will and sprang towards him. ‘You go in,’ Will said. ‘She has been asking for you.’

‘Is she any better?’ I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. ‘No.’

Cautiously I opened the door to her privy chamber and went in. Two of her women were seated at the fireside, enjoying a gossip when they should have been watching her. They jumped up guiltily as we came in. ‘She did not want company,’ one of them said defensively to Jane Dormer. ‘And she would not stop weeping.’

‘Well, I hope you lie alone weeping and unwatched one day,’ Jane snapped at her, and the two of us went past them and into the queen’s bedchamber.

She had curled up in the bed like a little girl, her hair in a cloud around her face. She did not turn her head at the sound of the opening door, she was deep in her grief.

‘Your Grace?’ Jane Dormer said, her voice cracking.

The queen did not move, but we heard the quiet occasional sob go on, as regular as a heartbeat, as if weeping had become a sign of life, like a pulse.

‘It is I,’ Jane said. ‘And Hannah the Fool. We have come back from Princess Elizabeth.’

The queen sighed very deeply and turned her head wearily towards us.

‘She took the oath,’ Jane said. ‘She swore she would keep the country in the true faith.’

I stepped to the bedside and took Queen Mary’s hand. It was as small and as light as a child’s, there was nothing left of her. Sadness had worn her away to dust that could blow away on the wind. I thought of her riding into London in her shabby red costume, her face bright with hope, and her courage when she took on the great men of the kingdom and beat them at their own game. I thought of her joy in her husband and her longing for a child to love, a son for England. I thought of her absolute devotion to the memory of her mother and her love of God.