The Lady Mary smiled and put her hand over the hand of her best friend. ‘Jane, this throne was given to me by God. No-one thought that I would survive Kenninghall, no-one thought that I would ride out of Framlingham without a shot being fired. And yet I rode into London with the blessing of the people. God has sent me to be queen. I shall show His mercy whenever I can. Even to those who know it not.’

* * *

I sent a note to my father that I would come on Michaelmas Day, and I collected my wages and walked through the darkening streets to him. I strode out without fear in new good-fitting boots and with a little sword at my side. I wore the livery of a beloved queen, no-one would molest me, and if they did, thanks to Will Somers, I could defend myself.

The door of the bookshop was closed, candlelight showing through the shutters, the street secure and quiet. I tapped on the door and he opened it cautiously. It was Friday night and the Sabbath candle was hidden under a pitcher beneath the counter, burning its holy light into the darkness.

He was pale as I came into the room and I knew, with the quick understanding of a fellow refugee, that the knock on the door had startled him. Even when he was expecting me, even when there was no cause to fear, his heart missed a beat at the knock in the night. I knew this for him, because it was true for me.

‘Father, it is only me,’ I said gently and I knelt before him, and he blessed me and raised me up.

‘So, you are in service to the royal court again,’ he said, smiling. ‘How your fortunes do rise, my daughter.’

‘She is a wonderful woman,’ I said. ‘So it is no thanks to me that my fortunes have risen. I would have escaped her service at the beginning if I could have done, and yet now I would rather serve her than anyone else in the land.’

‘Rather than Lord Robert?’

I glanced towards the closed door. ‘There is no serving him,’ I said. ‘Only the Tower guards can serve him and I pray that they do it well.’

My father shook his head. ‘I remember him coming here that day, a man you would think who would command half the world, and now . . .’

‘She won’t execute him,’ I said. ‘She will be merciful to all now that the duke himself is dead.’

My father nodded. ‘Dangerous times,’ he said. ‘Mr Dee remarked the other day that dangerous times are a crucible for change.’

‘You have seen him?’

My father nodded. ‘He came to see if I had the last pages of a manuscript in his possession, or if I could find another copy for him. It is a most troubling loss. He bought the book and it is a prescription for an alchemical process, but the last three pages are missing.’