“They asked him about your opinions, Your Majesty. They asked him what authors you cite, what books he has seen in your rooms, who else attends the sermons. They searched his rooms for anything written by you. They suspect him of taking your papers to a publisher. I think they may be building a case against you.”

I shiver as if I am cold despite the warm summer sunshine. “I am afraid you are right, Doctor.”

“Can you speak to the king in favor of my brother, Your Majesty? You know he is no heretic. He has thoughts about religion, but he would never undermine the king’s settlement.”

“I will speak if I can,” I say carefully. “But you see for yourself that I am not influential at the moment. Stephen Gardiner and his friends the Duke of Norfolk, William Paget, and Lord Wriothesley, who were my friends, are working against the new learning, and they are in the ascendancy. This time, while the king is in such pain, it is they who are admitted to his rooms. They are his advisors, not me.”

“I will speak to Doctor Wendy,” he says. “Sometimes he consults with me about the king’s health. He might mention my brother’s name to the king and ask him for a pardon, if they charge him.”

“Perhaps all these interrogations and inquiries are just to frighten us,” I say. “Perhaps the good bishop just wants to warn us all.”

The parrot dips up and down as if he is dancing. I recognize that he is hoping for more seeds, and I carefully hand him another. He takes it daintily, turning it round with his black tongue and beak as Doctor Huicke continues quietly: “I wish that were so. You haven’t heard about Johanne Bette?”

I shake my head.

“He is one of my congregation, the brother of one of your yeomen. And the Worley brothers, Richard and John, have been taken from your household, too, for questioning. God have mercy on poor Johanne—he has been condemned to death. If this is a warning, it is written in the blackest of ink and addressed to you. It is your men that they are questioning, Your Majesty. It is your man who will have to climb the scaffold.”

* * *