‘Lord Robert . . .’ I whispered.

He met my gaze. ‘Yes, little one,’ he said softly. ‘It was a great gamble and we lost, and the price we will pay is a heavy one. But you’re not a child; you know that it’s not an easy world. I will pay the price when I have to.’

‘Will they . . .?’ I could not bear to ask him if it was his own death that he was facing with this indomitable smile.

‘Oh, I should think so,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Very soon. I would, if I were the queen. Now tell me the news. We don’t have much time.’

I pulled my stool a little closer, marshalling my thoughts. I did not want to tell him the news, which was all bad, I wanted to look into his drawn face, and touch his hand. I wanted to tell him that I had longed to see him, and that I had written him letter after letter in the code which I knew he would have lost, and sent them all into the flames of the fire.

‘Come on,’ he said eagerly. ‘Tell me everything.’

‘The queen is considering if she should marry, you’ll know that, I suppose,’ I said, low-voiced. ‘And she has been ill. They have proposed one man after another. The best choice is Philip of Spain. The Spanish ambassador tells her that it will be a good marriage but she is afraid. She knows she cannot rule alone but she is afraid of a man ruling over her.’

‘But she will go ahead?’

‘She might withdraw. I can’t tell. She is half-sick with fear at the thought of it. She is afraid of having a man in her bed, and afraid for her throne without one.’

‘And Lady Elizabeth?’

I glanced at the thick wooden door and dropped my low voice to an even quieter murmur. ‘She and the queen cannot agree these days,’ I said. ‘They started very warmly, Lady Mary wanted Elizabeth at her side all the time, acknowledged her as her heir; but they cannot live happily together now. Lady Elizabeth is no longer the little girl of the queen’s teaching, and in debate she is her master. She is as quick-witted as an alchemist. The queen hates argument about sacred things and Lady Elizabeth has ready arguments for everything and accepts nothing. She looks at everything with hard eyes . . .’ I broke off.

‘Hard eyes?’ he queried. ‘She has beautiful eyes.’

‘I mean she looks hard at things,’ I explained. ‘She has no faith, she never closes her eyes in awe. She is not like my lady, you never see her amazed at the raising of the Host. She wants to know everything as a fact, she trusts nothing.’

Lord Robert nodded at the accuracy of the description. ‘Aye. She was always one to take nothing on trust.’

‘The queen forced her to Mass and Lady Elizabeth went with her hand on her belly, sighing for pain. Then, when the queen pressed her again, she said that she had converted. The queen wanted the truth from her. She asked her to tell the secrets of her heart: if she believed in the Holy Sacrament or no.’