We come into a sort of presence or sitting room. At least that’s what most of the ladies are doing. They must be the ladies-in-waiting or privy ladies. I know there’s many levels, but not all the names for them. There’s chambermaids and washerwomen at the bottom. There’s the Queen’s bedchamber ladies at the top. And then there’s all the other ladies in between. Gracie Manners’s sister, who worked as a chambermaid, said Queen Bethany even keeps a few daughters of old Eucharistian families like hostages among her ladies. That way, if any of the families try for a rebellion, she’s got heads to cut off. Except for them, it seems a great advantage to wait on the Queen. When there’s a position that opens up, it’s like a fair in front of the castle, highborn folk all coming to squeeze in a daughter or sister or wife with the Queen’s ladies.

We wait. The rushes under my feet have been trod down, and the stones are hard through my slippers. I shift from foot to foot, the ache building in each sole until I find myself looking hungrily at the cushions two young ladies of an age with me – one pretty, one plain – sit atop nearby. Even with the cushions both sit like they’ve sticks up their backsides. I swallow a little laugh at the thought.

The fair one is dressed almost as well as the Painted Pig, but with an open partlet up top, showing some of her bosom. She’s truly beautiful and has thick gold hair like in songs about pretty girls. Her sleeves, I notice, are of a new fashion, brought in at the wrist instead of open.

‘Have you an extra candle for me?’ the fair lady asks the plain one. The plain one’s face is the kind that’s hard to remember, like there’s nothing there to notice. A face like a bowl of mush. Her dress is dark, simple wool, and her sleeves are wide like mine. From the way she holds her arms down, she’s trying to keep attention from them.

‘Haven’t you any candles of your own?’ Mush Face asks back. ‘I saw a whole sconce in your chamber not two days ago.’

Fair Hair smooths her partlet awkwardly.

‘How now?’ snorts Mush Face. ‘Have you used them all?’

Fair Hair doesn’t answer.

‘Then you’ve either taken up books or a lover.’

Fair Hair tries to hide it, but her eyes say Mush Face got one of her guesses right.