“I thought you might know. I am to marry the heir of the Elector.”

“Who?” I ask, completely baffled.

“Otto Henry,” she says. “His Majesty my father wants to create an alliance with the German princes against France. I was very surprised but it seems that he has decided to side with the German Lutherans against Spain after all. I would be married to a Lutheran and sent to Neuburg. England will become Lutheran, or wholly reformed, at the very least.”

She looks at my aghast expression. “I thought that Your Majesty had such sympathies,” she says carefully. “I thought you would be pleased.”

“I might be pleased by England becoming fully reformed in religion and by an alliance with the German princes, but I am shocked at the thought of your going to Bavaria. To a country where they might have a religious rebellion, with your father allied to their emperor? What is he thinking? This is to send you into certain danger, to face an invasion from your own Spanish kinsman!”

“And I believe that I would be expected to take up my husband’s religion,” she says quietly. “There is no intention to protect my faith.” She hesitates. “My mother’s faith,” she adds. “You know that I cannot betray it. I don’t know what to do.”

This is against tradition as well as respect for the princess and her faith and her church. Wives must raise the children in the faith of their husband, but are always allowed to retain their own faith.

“The king expects you to become a Lutheran?” I ask. “A Protestant?”

Her hand drops into the pocket of her gown where I know she keeps her mother’s rosary. I imagine the cool beads and the tenderly carved coral crucifix between her fingers.

“Your Majesty, Lady Mother, did you not know of this?”

“No, my dearest. He spoke of it as one of his plans; no more. I did not know it had gone this far.”

“He is going to call it the League Christian,” she says. “He will be the head.”

“I am so sorry,” I whisper.

“You know that they threatened me with death if I did not swear that my father was Supreme Head of the Church,” she whispers. “Thomas Howard, the old duke, threatened to smash my head against the wall until it was as soft as a baked apple. They tamed me as surely as they took a whip to me. The pope himself sent me a message to say that I might take the oath and he would forgive me. I failed my mother then, I betrayed her faith. I can’t do it again.”

Wordlessly, I feel for her hands and hold her tightly.

“Is there anything you can do, Kateryn?” she whispers to me as a friend. “Is there anything you can do?”

“What do you want?”

“Save me.”

I am shocked into silence.