“We’ll make an alliance,” the king says. “Against France. And this time it will be unbreakable, and this time we will destroy France and win back our English lands, and more, eh, Seymour?”

“My brother will get an alliance for you and for England that will last forever,” Edward promises rashly. “That’s why he left in haste, to start the work at once.”

I turn my head from one man to the other, like one of the little automata that the clockmakers forge. Ticktock: one man speaks and then the other. Tocktick: it goes the other way. So I am startled when the king turns to me sharply, out of order, and says: “Shall you miss Sir Thomas? Shall you miss him, Lady Latimer? He’s a great favorite with you ladies, is he not?”

Hotly, I am about to deny it, but then I see the trap. “I am sure we shall all miss him,” I say indifferently. “He’s merry company for the younger ones. I am glad that his wit can do good service to Your Majesty, even though it was wasted on me.”

“You don’t like a courtly suitor?” He is watching me narrowly.

“I am a straightforward northern woman,” I say. “I don’t like a lot of lipwash.”

“Enchanting!” Edward Seymour loudly proclaims as the king laughs at my country speech and snaps his fingers for the page, who lifts his leg off the stool, and then two of them haul him to his feet and steady him when he staggers. “We’ll go in to dinner,” he rules. “I am so hungry I could eat an ox! And you must get your strength up, Lady Latimer. You will have service to do also! I want a bonny bride!”

I curtsey as he hobbles past, his great weight bearing down on his frail legs, one calf bulked large with the thick bandage that is wrapped around the oozing wound. I rise up and walk beside Lady Mary. She gives me a cool little smile and says nothing.

* * *

I am to choose a motto. Nan and I are in my bedroom with the door barred to everyone, sprawled on my bed, the candles burning low.

“D’you remember them all?” I ask her curiously.