Catherine flits from the room and outside we hear the music of the lute suddenly break off as Anne Seymour puts the instrument aside and comes in, closing the door behind her.

“Has your husband said anything about questioning young Tom Howard?” Nan asks her bluntly.

“Tom Howard?” She shakes her head.

“Well, get to your rooms and find out what the council think they are doing,” Nan says furiously. “For Edmund Bonner is looking around Howard lands for heretics and the Privy Council is questioning Tom Howard for heresy, and everyone knows that he has been here listening to the sermons. And many people know that Edmund Bonner released Anne Askew because Her Majesty requested it. How does he now have the courage to question another of our friends? How is he so bold as to go to Howard lands and ask questions about the Howards themselves? Have we lost power without knowing it? Or has Gardiner turned against the Howards? What’s happening now?”

Anne looks from my pale face to Nan’s furious one. “I’ll go and find out,” she says. “I’ll come back as soon as I know. I may not be able to speak with him till dinner.”

“Just go!” Nan spits, and Anne, usually so careful of her own importance, so slow to obey, scurries out of the room.

Nan rounds on me. “Your books,” she says. “Your papers, the new book that you’re writing.”

“What of them?”

“We’ll have to pack them up and get them out of the palace.”

“Nan, nobody is going to search my rooms for my papers. The king himself gave me these books. I am studying his own writings, his own commentaries. We just completed our work on the liturgy together. This is the king’s chosen area of study, not just mine. He is planning an alliance with the Lutheran princes against the Catholic kings. He is leading England away from the Roman Catholic Church towards full reform—”

“The liturgy, yes,” she says, interrupting me, forgetting, in the grip of her fear, the respect that she should show. “You’re safe working on that, I suppose, as long as you agree completely with him. But what about Lamentation? What about that? Would the king think it conformed to The King’s Book? Is your secret work not heretical against his laws? Gardiner’s laws?”

“But the law keeps changing!” I exclaim. “Changing, and changing again!”

“Doesn’t matter. It is the law. And your writing is outside it.”

I am silent. “Where can I send my papers?” I ask. “Where is safe? Shall I send them to someone in the city? To Thomas Cranmer?”

“To our uncle,” she rules. I see that she has already thought of this, that she has been fearful for some time. “He’ll keep them safe. He’ll hide them and have the courage to deny them. I’ll pack up while you’re at dinner.”